Film listings are edited by Cheryl Eddy. Reviewers are Robert Avila, Kimberly Chun, David Fear, Dina Gachman, Susan Gerhard, Dennis Harvey, Johnny Ray Huston, Laurie Koh, Patrick Macias, and Chuck Stephens. The film intern is Melissa McCartney. See Rep Clock and Movie Clock for theater information.

Opening

*Aileen: The Life and Death of a Serial Killer See "The Murder Biz," page 35. (1:27) Opera Plaza.

The Big Bounce Another Elmore Leonard novel about a comedic caper hits the big screen. This one stars Owen Wilson and Morgan Freeman and is set on Oahu. (1:29) Century Plaza, Century 20, Jack London, Oaks.

Japanese Story Marooned in the Australian outback, an imperious businessman (Gotaro Tsunashima) and a resentful guide (Toni Collette) are forced into intimacy. But just when the desert turns into an Eden, a fall awaits them. Gossip maestro Michael Musto recently decreed that "quirky romances with a rarefied Japanese twist" have replaced Douglas Sirk tributes as the current cinematic trend; the implicit Western bias of that statement applies to Sue Brooks's Japanese Story as much as to Sofia Coppola's Lost in Translation, though Brooks's fumbling sincerity differs from Coppola's stylish entitlement. These days the lead actors of award-minded dramas are stronger than the films themselves, and Collette's raw, multifaceted performance here is an Oscar calling card complete with the required vanity-free naked moments. (1:45) Lumiere, Smith Rafael. (Huston)

The Perfect Score Erika Christensen, Scarlett Johansson, and four other kids with better things to do than study plot to steal the answers to the SAT. (1:33) Century Plaza, Century 20, Jack London.

*To Be and to Have See "Father Figures," page 36. (1:44) Castro, Smith Rafael.

You Got Served Assorted former members of now defunct teen hip-hop ensemble B2K star in this tale set in the cutthroat world of competitive street dancing. (1:33) Century Plaza, Century 20, Jack London.

Ongoing

Along Came Polly It seems that romantic bliss will forever elude a neurotic insurance risk assessor (Ben Stiller) – especially when he catches his wife cheating on their honeymoon. A chance meeting with a free-spirited old friend (Jennifer Aniston) could change that unlucky-in-love curse, if the gent can control his penchant for social embarrassment and his irritable bowel syndrome. Stiller sleepwalks amiably through his now-signature schmiel routine, and Aniston confirms she'll be a great comedian one day with the right material, but the most striking thing about this easy paycheck is how numbingly familiar it feels. You can pick off the past comic home runs – the reprised Farrelly brothers comedy of heartbreak and humiliation, the ghosts of sitcoms past, Philip Seymour Hoffman channeling Jack Black's anima, Alec Baldwin condensing director John Hamburg's hilarious first film, Safe Men, into one wedding speech – but it's hard to find this jalopy of spare parts particularly funny. (1:30) Century Plaza, Century 20, Grand Lake, Jack London, Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness. (Fear)

*Bad Santa At this point, can any attack on Kris Kringle's public image generate shock? That's one of the chief dilemmas faced by Terry Zwigoff's Bad Santa, which casts Billy Bob Thornton as Willie T. Stokes, a self-described "eating, drinking, shitting, fucking Santa Claus." He's also a crook, robbing stores on Christmas Eve with his elfin partner in crime, Marcus (Tony Cox). Emptying the safes of U.S. consumerist palaces, Stokes is certainly a criminal, but this is a Terry Zwigoff movie: such thievery doesn't make him a villain. Whether documentary or fictive, Zwigoff's films usually sympathize with a malcontented male outcast, and it isn't a stretch to suggest that an ornery shopping-mart Santa makes an apt mouthpiece for the director while he's positioned in the heart of Hollywood. Still, Bad Santa is also a crossover bid; a hilarious shot heralding Stokes and Marcus's annual return to work also signals that Zwigoff wants to raise hell in Arizona, much like his executive producers Ethan and Joel Coen once did. It all ends with a Bing (Crosby's "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas") and a bang as Santa sentimentalists bite the bullet and the whole audience gets the finger. (1:30) Galaxy. (Huston)

Big Fish Parenthood can turn almost anybody into a softy, which is good news for the human spirit overall but occasionally very bad news for the artistic one. The fact that he recently had a child with Helena Bonham Carter (who plays several heavily disguised roles here, to no great effect) is the only explanation I can hazard as to why Tim Burton has suddenly started – suck in your breath now – imitating Steven Spielberg's worst instincts. The bedside vigil of semi-estranged son Will (Billy Crudup) over Southern braggart dad Edward Bloom (Albert Finney, better than this crap deserves) is the spur for reprise of the latter's favorite "autobiographical" tall tales, which are like old Twilight Zone episodes with a sugar glaze. This crossbreeding of Forrest Gump and What Dreams May Come is Disney-esque pseudo-folklore whose grasp on "childlike wonder" and maudlin "family is the most important thing!" values feel factory-issued. Never mind that Edward has been a crappy, egomaniacal, hot-air-blowing father – reconciliation here is grimly, cloyingly inevitable. (2:00) Century Plaza, Century 20, Jack London, Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness. (Harvey)

The Butterfly Effect Long have the world's stoners pondered the questions raised in The Butterfly Effect: namely, (a) if you could go back and replay one scene in your life, what would be the consequences for you, your loved ones, and the universe at large, and (b) wouldn't that be trippy? And in a sense, who better than Ashton Kutcher, the small screen's patron saint of smoke-filled rec rooms, to grapple with those questions writ large as Evan Treborn, a troubled college student prone to journaling, nosebleeds, and traveling back in time via memory to avert personal tragedy? There's some sick, sick shit going on here, including child porn and extreme acts of cruelty toward animals and babies. But having to sit through Kutcher's exaggerated attempts at dramatic interpretation for the length of a feature film surpasses even those outrages. It's fun watching Evan and his friends go through extreme makeovers with every new scenario, but as the thrill of hurtling down memory lane wears off, The Butterfly Effect may raise a topical question for restless filmgoers: namely, how would my life had been different if I hadn't gone to the movie theater today? (1:53) Century Plaza, Century 20, Jack London, Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness. (Lynn Rapoport)

Calendar Girls In a small English town, weekly meetings of the Women's Institute give the local ladies a chance to meet and socialize. Mostly they celebrate the virtues of pressing flowers and making jam – and it all seems fairly staid and harmless. However, when John (John Alderton) passes away from leukemia, his widow, Annie (Julie Walters), and her close friend Chris (Helen Mirren) decide to try and raise money for a memorial at the local hospital. Chris gets the idea that they should do a very tasteful nude calendar – so, inspired by John's idea that women (like flowers) in the final stages of their lives are the most glorious, Chris and Annie convince a number of other W.I. members to join them. As it turns out, the calendar of beautiful mature women baring it all for charity becomes an international sensation. Enjoyable, feisty, and incredibly funny, Calendar Girls – based on a true tale – is a film about women, friendship, and how easy it can be to defy expectations. (1:48) Century 20, 1000 Van Ness. (Cindy Emch)

Cheaper by the Dozen No one ever said it would be easy raising 12 kids and sustaining careers, but that's what a college football coach (Steve Martin) and his book-penning wife (Bonnie Hunt) try to do with a pinch of parental love and a whole lotta wacky high jinks. No one said it wasn't difficult crafting holiday films you could drag the whole brood to see, either, but the fact that this remake of the 1950 comedy is diluted for even the tamest of temperaments is typical of Tinseltown's template for "family entertainment" that hardly qualifies as entertaining. There are almost enough pinpricks of well-choreographed slapstick and the tag-team of Martin's Parenthood-redux buffoonery with Hunt's dry sass to prevent perpetual spin cycles for Clifton Webb's corpse, but its reliance on formula – a stock family-first message, cute kids mouthing clever lines – means another helping of warmed-up Disney Channel leftovers barely able to serve two. (1:38) Century Plaza, Century 20. (Fear)

*Cold Mountain A more reliable literary adapter than Merchant Ivory (at least of late), Anthony Minghella, director of The English Patient and The Talented Mr. Ripley, brings admirable cinematic sweep, intelligence, and detail to Charles Frazier's hugely popular historical novel. Jude Law is astutely cast as Inman, the young laborer turned Confederate soldier who makes a long, dangerous trek back to his rural North Carolina town during the waning days of the Civil War. Egging him onward through various hardships and bounty-hunter perils is the promise of a reunion with Ada (Nicole Kidman), pampered, Charleston-bred daughter of a minister (Donald Sutherland) whose premature death leaves her alone and helpless amid wartime deprivation. The original, tentative romance between principals is flash-backed between scenes from their variously harrowing present: traveling on foot, he's nearly killed several times over; she almost starves to death before spunky hillbilly Ruby (Renée Zellwegger, dynamic if borderline cartoonish) shows up to commandeer cultivation of the late minister's neglected farmland. Starting with a memorably horrific depiction of the era's savage yet impersonal warfare (dramatizing the July 1864 siege of Petersburg, Va.), Cold Mountain is never less than engaging, with passages by turns lyrical, ironic, brutal, and tender. Still, it's not quite as moving as one would like – and actually becomes least so when Ada and Inman are finally reunited in the last act. (2:35) Century 20, Four Star, Grand Lake, Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness, Orinda. (Harvey)

*The Company The climactic moment of Robert Altman's The Company takes place 20 minutes into the film, as a pair of dancers perform a soulful, romantic duet on an outdoor stage and the weather turns bad. It's a gorgeously theatrical moment – and a lucky break for one of the dancers, an upcoming member of the company named Ry (Neve Campbell), who was understudying the part when the scheduled soloist sustained an injury. And in another movie altogether – let's say 2000's Center Stage – this windswept scene would have been a shoo-in for grand finale. Instead, we're in Chicago, watching real members (except for Campbell) of a slightly fictionalized Joffrey Ballet, in a film where a surprising, successful performance is, in the shorter term, one good night for one dancer in a season of ups and downs. When director Robert Altman set out to make the film, he clearly believed the real-life dramas of the company's days and nights would be enough to sustain a one-and-a-half-hour movie. But the question remains, will people be transfixed by a series of quiet offstage spectacles, stay to the end waiting for the point to kick in, or leave the theater early in disgust to have irate discussions in the car about the nature of art? (1:52) Embarcadero. (Rapoport)

The Cooler William H. Macy is a sadder-sack Bogart, and Maria Bello an updated Gloria Grahame, in this slick indie gloss on retro-Hollywood "B" conventions. He's a former gambler so pathetically ill-starred that he's employed as a "cooler" at a fading-out Vegas casino – a man whose luck is so bad he can be counted on to end winning streaks simply by passing the tables. She's a much younger cocktail waitress with (what else?) a "past." When they fall in love, love redeems them – and their luck, which unfortunately earns the wrath of a casino boss (Alec Baldwin) who can't endure such status quo shifts in the face of his own imminent corporate-management phaseout. The acting is very good, of course – how could Macy disappoint in yet another "lovable loser" role? – and director and coscenarist (with Frank Hannah) Wayne Kramer's story is crafty and flavorful enough in an MGM-circa-1955 way. But even then the story wasn't very fresh or especially interesting, save as a showcase for actors who deserved better. Which they still do. The final reel springs some decent surprises, yet the scent of reheated genre formula is still the strongest smell to emerge from The Cooler. (1:41) Empire, Galaxy. (Harvey)

Fantasia (1:40) Four Star.

*The Fog of War: 11 Lessons from the Life of Robert S. McNamara Faced with the unspeakable, say, the killing of 100,000 civilians in one night of firebombing in Japan, an artist could be excused for choosing not to speak. You certainly can't blame Errol Morris for offering up Philip Glass's assertive soundtrack as a fig leaf for Robert McNamara as he stands naked in a survey of a half century of horrific war footage he had some part in creating. Morris's primary challenge in The Fog of War, a documentary about the frightening fallibility, the terrible inevitability of the American war machine, is that he doesn't just have images of chemical warfare, missiles dropping, nations destroyed. He also has a speaker, a practiced one, to explain and reflect and second-guess – to, in essence, misdirect. Which may be why Morris gives this former secretary of defense under Presidents Kennedy and Johnson so much room to speak, even when he's evading; it's Glass who gives us the real interpretation. Glass's take comes through loud and clear in wind and strings: be afraid, be very afraid. (1:46) Embarcadero. (Gerhard)

Girl with a Pearl Earring Lost in Translation It girl Scarlett Johansson plays another passive protagonist in Peter Webber's debut film, an accomplished yet oddly distanced translation of Tracy Chevalier's acclaimed novel. She's forced to work as a servant in the household of master painter Johannes Vermeer (Colin Firth) when her own family's fortunes take a downturn in 1665 Delft, Holland. Uneducated yet naturally inquisitive, she gains the attention of the master as model and apprentice – both roles scandalous for a lower-class girl of the era. Girl with a Pearl Earring is nothing if not artful: domestic strife, moral hypocrisy, and class consciousness are neatly interwoven with an artistic inspiration that would eventually loom large in art history. It's handsomely done in aesthetic terms, polished in performance terms. Yet for all its intelligence and skill, Girl just kinda sits there, emotionally, and becomes more schematic than moving. (1:39) Clay, Empire, Jack London. (Harvey)

*Gloomy Sunday Though steeped in melodrama, Nick Barkow's novel of overlapping love affairs amid war-torn 1930s Budapest translates stunningly to the big screen. Director Rolf Schübel recaptures all the magic of an old-school drama as his charismatic actors bring the romantic script to life. Very much in love, Laszlo (Joachim Krol) and Ilona (Erika Maroszán) run a restaurant and hire Andras (Stefano Dionisi) to play piano. Andras is quickly pulled in by Ilona's charms, and the three develop an understanding relationship, rather than suffering one man to live without her affection. The film takes its name from the stirring yet depressing song Andras writes for Ilona (in real life, the so-called suicide song, made popular by Billie Holliday, was written in 1935 by Hungarians Rezsö Seress and Laszlo Javor). A return to real movie making, where all the elements blend in a harmony seldom seen in Hollywood these days, Gloomy Sunday cleverly deals with threats to perfect love: the "other man," manipulation, war, and even death. (1:54) Balboa, Smith Rafael. (McCartney)

House of Sand and Fog Kathy Nicolo (Jennifer Connelly) is a recovering addict whose husband left a few months ago and who ekes out a living cleaning other people's houses. She's depressed. Hence she's not very quick to catch a serious bureaucratic error: nonpayment of an (erroneously charged) business tax ends up getting her evicted from her own home, which has been put up for public auction. The house is sold to Massoud Amir Behrani (Ben Kingsley), a former colonel in the Iranian air force who sees it as the lucky fiscal break he's desperately sought since fleeing his native country. As mutual obstinacy, legal snafus, and some very poor tactical decisions heat up resentment on both sides, Kathy and Massoud head toward a tragic showdown. Commercial director Vadim Perelman's debut feature shaves and/or downplays some of the more extreme melodrama in Andre Dubus III's original literary potboiler. But House takes itself awfully seriously, to diminishing results – the last reel goes over the top, with Sir Ben chewing scenery beyond duty's call. (2:06) Empire, 1000 Van Ness. (Harvey)

In America It's tough to put a magical sheen on living in a drug-addled tenement, but writer and director Jim Sheridan (In the Name of the Father) gives it a shot with In America, a modern Irish immigration story based on his own experience. Attempting to escape the memory of their lost son, Johnny (Paddy Considine) and Sarah (Samantha Morton) move to New York City with their two young girls. Dirt poor but determined, wannabe actor Johnny struggles almost inhumanely to make his family's life bearable, but he can't connect to them given his refusal to grieve. Sisters Sarah and Emma Bolger give amazingly natural performances as the daughters who take the ghetto in stride, expressing genuine delight at the flock of pigeons hogging their new digs. Still, Sheridan's gritty New York is too tangible for the ethereal touch to work beyond the eyes of the sisters, and the film's reliance on cosmic intervention at key moments actually injects predictability into an otherwise engaging story. (1:43) Embarcadero. (Koh)

The Last Samurai After James Clavell's Shogun and Kevin Costner's Dances with Wolves, noble savage clichés just aren't what they used to be. Yet here's Tom Cruise as Captain Nathan Algren, a Civil War veteran who travels to Meiji-era Japan to become a player in the samurai rebellion, a conflict that pits the ancient ways against a rapidly modernizing world. Falling under the influence of his captor, outlaw Katsumoto (Ken Watanabe), Algren discovers an "intriguing people" whose devotion to "honor" and "loyalty" inspires him to strap on armor that makes him look about as dramatic as an ice hockey player. To be fair, there's some decent action scenes, but they're not enough to compensate for the film's deadly dramatic failings. The big problem with The Last Samurai is director and co-screenwriter Edward Zwick (Glory) and producer Cruise have constructed a warped Akira Kurosawa fantasy without a single plot twist or surprise that isn't glaringly obvious from frame one. (2:24) Century 20, Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness. (Macias)

*The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King The quest to deliver "The Greatest Fantasy Trilogy Ever Made" has been completed. The hype is right. The Return of the King is the best of the three, but only in part. And it all depends on which part you're talking about. In the first act, we're still mucking about with various monarchs, noble families, and peasants as the film unfolds. Our main characters, hobbits Frodo (Elijah Wood) and Sam (Sean Astin), are still on their dangerous trek to the volcanic Mount Doom. Gandalf (Ian McKellan) and plucky halfling Pippin (Billy Boyd) have arrived at the kingdom of Gondor – ground zero for the long-awaited War of the Ring – where the tone of Return becomes quiet and hushed. Heroically, director Peter Jackson decides to slow down and take a breath himself. From here on out, Jackson assumes a total mastery of the material, and even the deviations from Tolkien's text start to look like improvements. The long, arduous journey to the credits may not have been perfect, and perilously few of those character subplots ever pay out, but for a hearty share of its 3-hour-and-18-minute running time, there can be no doubt that King rules. (3:21) Century Plaza, Century 20, Grand Lake, 1000 Van Ness. (Macias)

Lost in Translation Halfway through Lost in Translation, it's clear director Sofia Coppola misplaced something other than language somewhere in the air between LAX and Narita. She obviously lost the plot (what glassine, paper-thin bits of it existed, by all accounts) and decided instead to just leave the camera running on her assembled beautiful or amusing characters-slash-objets – a preppily lush Scarlett Johansson, the sleek playground of Tokyo's Park Hyatt, and a resigned Bill Murray – hoping they'd provide the in-flight impromptu entertainment. Maybe in a perfectly art-directed world, they would suffice to fill the pretty vacant spaces of this barely outlined tale. But that's assuming we're as easily amused by Lost in Translation's 105 minutes of good-looking images and vacuous chitchat as we are by sound bites about celebrity cribs. That's assuming we've never glimpsed the sci-fi Tokyo skyline, tried our hand at karaoke, or followed Murray as he navigated a real, meaty part. Instead, Coppola succumbs to the same mistake made by pop stars who get lazy, believe their own hype, and decide everyone can relate to songs about their distorted experiences. (1:45) Century 20, Four Star, 1000 Van Ness, Orinda. (Chun)

Magic Kitchen (1:40) Four Star.

*Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World Peter Weir's first film since The Truman Show bears little resemblance to any other action behemoth in recent memory. For the most part, that is a very good thing. Welding together chunks from the lengthy historical fiction series by Patrick O'Brian, Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World isn't so much episodic in the usual brief-pauses-between-escalating-climaxes sense as it is picaresque in, well, a 19th-century sense. Like O'Brian, Weir is more interested in the workings and the character of HMS Surprise and its crew (led by Russell Crowe's authoritatively low-key Captain Jack Aubrey) than in battles per se. Which is not to say the face-offs against "old Boney's" (Napoleon Bonaparte's) frigates aren't highly visceral, nor are the surgeries performed by resident doctor-naturalist Stephen Maturin (Paul Bettany) lacking in gruesome impact. But the movie bears Weir's trademark spectral qualities: the images are spectacular yet fallible, obscured by darkness and the elements; an offhand, lyric humanism makes this probably the least macho film of its type ever made. (2:08) Balboa, Oaks. (Harvey)

Mona Lisa Smile (1:59) Galaxy.

*Monster As de-glamming makeovers go, Charlize Theron's dumpification in this dramatization of the late Aileen Wuornos's 1989-90 serial killing spree sure kicks the bejesus out of Nicole Kidman's Oscar-winning nose cap last year. You can believe it when characters here identify her as indigent and/or crazy by just a glance. Without going into much tortured-childhood backgrounding (a few discreet, disturbing flashbacks under the opening credits suffice), this first feature by writer-director Patty Jenkins effectively conveys the accumulated psychological and physical damage that perhaps inevitably turned Wuornos into a menace. The film charts a span when her life got both better and a whole lot worse: A committed if awkward relationship with a younger woman (Christina Ricci, just so-so) gets her off the streets, determined to improve her circumstances. Without means, education, or any (legal) work experience, however, that goal proves near impossible. And once she crosses a line – killing a brutal roadside-pickup prostitution client in self-defense – financial desperation, suppressed rage, and a faint grip on reality push her to cross it again and again. While the murders are handled bluntly enough, Monster is more depressing than scary or lurid. Its principal aim is as a cautionary character study: used or abandoned by family, institutional help and society in general, Wuornos embodied how extreme human need can warp into "monstrous" toxicity. A worthy movie, driven by a very strong lead performance. (1:51) Embarcadero, Century Plaza. (Harvey)

My Baby's Daddy (1:31) Century 20, 1000 Van Ness.

Mystic River After a poorly executed prologue – and before the plot goes to hell in the last reel – this adaptation of Dennis Lehane's novel plays ideally to Clint Eastwood's strengths as a levelheaded, respectful director of both talented actors and meat-and-potatoes drama. A childhood incident in which 11-year-old Dave was kidnapped by pedophiles before the eyes of playmates Jimmy and Sean still hangs over their adult lives. All remained in their original rough, Boston neighborhood, though the three have maintained an awkward distance from each other ever since. That ends when the daughter of corner store owner Jimmy (Sean Penn) is murdered after a night of barhopping – a night when Dave (Tim Robbins) comes home at 3 a.m. to wife Celeste (Marcia Gay Harden) bloodied by what he claims at first is an altercation with a mugger. Guess who's the homicide detective assigned to the case? Sean (Kevin Bacon), of course, alongside his partner, Whitey (Laurence Fishburne). Underplaying the material's potentially clichéd tough-guy milieu and pulp-thriller aspects, Eastwood and scenarist Brian Helgeland orchestrate an engrossing drama. Just the kind of starry, serious, conventional project sure to be remembered at awards time, Mystic River is nonetheless seriously compromised – in my book at least – by a last act that throws away the credible resolution we've been led toward, instead springing a left-field one wildly dependent on coincidence and contrivance. (2:20) Century 20, Grand Lake. (Harvey)

Paycheck (2:00) 1000 Van Ness.

Peter Pan (1:45) Century 20, Orinda.

Pieces of April The fact that Pieces of April was a buzz film at the Sundance fest this year attests to the sorry state of American indie cinema, which has essentially become a minor-league Hollywood. A secondhand "original" soundtrack of corrosive Stephin Merritt lullabies sets the tone of Peter Hedges's digital-video comic drama. The screenplay's tired Guess Who's Coming to Dinner-meets-Daytrippers scenario traps viewers in a car with a miserable cauca-zombie family as they journey toward a Thanksgiving feast that's been thoroughly botched by black sheep April (Katie Holmes, in art-damaged attire that's very early '90s) and her (gasp!) black boyfriend, Derek Luke. Hedges's presentation of working-class urban life is even more stereotypical than a Wayans comedy, but at least the Wayans clan bring parody to the table. Pieces of April's moth-eaten liberal idea of just desserts requires that the sarcasm eventually gives way to a multicult sweetness – though not before Patricia Clarkson, as April's mother, provides a few potent glimpses of a dying woman's solitude. (1:20) Balboa. (Huston)

*The Same River Twice Documentarian Robb Moss shot Riverdogs, a chronicle of his 35-day Grand Canyon rafting trip with 17 (mostly nekkid) best friends, in 1978. A quarter century later he contrasts that footage with the present-day lives of his now middle-aged former fellow travelers, who've nearly all settled into more conventional lifestyles: kids, home ownership, marriage, divorce, health woes. Yet a spark of lingering counterculturalism remains for many; no less than two have earned stints as progressive mayors. The Same River Twice has the built-in fascination of watching real people evolve on camera. If modern life casts a rather wistful shadow on the idyllic views of freespirited youth au naturel amid nature, this is nonetheless one movie that suggests '60s-bred ideals aren't quite dead yet. The only disappointment here is that Moss doesn't seize the opportunity to comment on or analyze the phenomenon of '70s communal lifestyles in general; he's content simply providing a before-and-after snapshot. (1:18) Smith Rafael. (Harvey)

Something's Gotta Give An aging Casanova (Jack Nicholson) locks horns with the uptight playwright mother (Diane Keaton) of his younger girlfriend when the two are forced to share the scribe's Hampton household. Neither can stand the other, but guess who surprisingly falls for each other, go their separate ways, were meant to be together, etc.? The notion that two treasures of American acting get to make sexagenarians sexy and trade barbed ripostes seems like a dream come true. Unless, of course, the duo's dialogue seems cribbed from The View, the film is shot like a Pottery Barn catalogue, and the indiscreet smarm of the bourgeoisie is somehow supposed to pass for knowledgeable carnality ... then, well, any potential dissipates posthaste. Writer-director Nancy Meyers (What Women Want) seems convinced that cutesy charm and reel-life charisma can substitute for real wit or Mars-versus-Venus insight; the only thing that ends up "giving" is one's tolerance for saccharine (cocooned in smug self-love) trying to masquerade as romantic comedy. (2:03) Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness. (Fear)

The Station Agent Along with Pieces of April, this was part of Patricia Clarkson's one-two punch at the Sundance Film Festival; actually, Clarkson was in four films there, but the other two weren't award winners. In The Station Agent she plays a divorcée grieving her son's death, and the movie's strongest scenes involve her cold-shoulder response when people misguidedly reach out to offer comfort. Tom McCarthy's film is choreographed so that a triad of misfits – two loners (Clarkson and Peter Dinklage) and one extrovert (Bobby Cannavale) – meet up on the train tracks of small-town life, only to break apart again. Dinklage's dwarf protagonist alternately faces and escapes a patronizing world, but it's his rejection by Clarkson's character that truly stings. If all this sounds depressing, rest assured The Station Agent doesn't forget to add moments of hope and whimsy; they just aren't as interesting as its dark side. (1:28) Smith Rafael. (Huston)

Teacher's Pet (1:07) Century 20, 1000 Van Ness.

*Tokyo Godfathers Director Satoshi Kon's previous film, 2001's awesome Millennium Actress, took audiences on a dizzying trek through 2,000 years of Japanese history. His latest work, Tokyo Godfathers, homes in on the tumultuous events of a single Christmas holiday, with equally impressive results. Three homeless friends (a young woman, a transvestite, and an aging drunk) stumble across an abandoned baby and vow to return it to its parents, wherever and whoever they may be. The premise is little more than a redo of John Ford's 3 Godfathers, but Kon takes the material in smart new directions. With extraordinary yet subtle animation, he caricatures an already surreal Japan and gives the stage over to the city's most seldom heard voices. While touchy subjects are on the agenda, Tokyo Godfathers never gets preachy or overly sweet. Instead, there's a dense amount of visual and verbal gags to keep things engaging. Humorous, emotional, and concisely executed, it's the anime film to top in 2004. (1:31) Lumiere. (Macias)

Torque If a bad movie knows it's bad, does that make it any better? The jury's still out on Torque, a two-wheeled entry into the above-the-law speed-demon genre made popular by The Fast and the Furious. A ridiculous plot about bikes, babes, gang rivalry, crystal meth, reunited lovers, meddling cops, etc. exists only to provide an excuse for the film's many high-speed chase scenes, lensed with CG-assisted slickness (and a good deal of product placement) by prolific music video helmer, and first-time feature director, Joseph Kahn. Self-aware dialogue – including a barb at Vin Diesel's Furious catchphrase, "I live my life a quarter mile at a time!" – doesn't really add much to this too-familiar tale. Torque's one bright spot is Ice Cube, whose unique ability to layer menace over good-heartedness leaves the likes of Diesel (who Cube'll be replacing in the XXX sequel) in the dust. (1:21) Century 20, Jack London, Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness. (Eddy)

*The Triplets of Belleville Perhaps the first major animated export from France since René Laloux's sci-fi epics Fantastic Planet (1973) and Light Years (1988), comic book artist Sylvain Chomet's feature debut is a uniquely vinegary comedy that's like a grown-up 101 Dalmatians. A champion Tour de France bicyclist is kidnapped by bad guys and taken to America for ill purposes. His abduction spurs cross-Atlantic pursuit by grandmother Mme Souza and their corpulent, waddling dog Bruno. Their principal helpers are the titular trio, 1930s music-hall stars since fallen into decrepit eccentricity. Dialogue-free Triplets is funny, inventive, and endlessly referential. The only minus is an overpoweringly dour comic tilt that may strike some viewers as a tad too dyspeptic and cranky for full enjoyment. Like Ralph Bakshi's cartoon features of yore – albeit in a much less racy vein – Triplets is dazzling at times yet so misanthropic you might leave the theater feeling a tad soiled. (1:20) Embarcadero. (Harvey)

*21 Grams 21 Grams is a good movie hobbled most by its certainty of greatness; its entire construction, nonstop emotional urgency, and near complete lack of humor signal as much throughout. It's better than most "prestige" efforts – certainly the concurrent Sean Penn vehicle Mystic River, which similarly orchestrates several personal tragedies into contrived sentimental-existential narrative symphonies – due to the makers having one foot in art-house cred and another in starry Hollywood uplift. Amores perros director Alejandro González Iñárritu and scenarist Guillermo Arriaga should be congratulated for making a film that was first conceived for Mexico City seem not at all awkward in the English-language U.S. milieu; what's more, there's a grittiness of tenor and texture that's brave for a commercial film. 21 Grams is so frequently so good on a scene-by-scene basis that one wishes only it hadn't gotten some very big ideas. It's bleak, inventive, and heartfelt to degrees that feel right until they don't. (2:18) Bridge. (Harvey)

Win a Date with Tad Hamilton! Director Robert Luketic (Legally Blonde) should have entered a sweepstakes to win a decent script and some personality for his characters. As far as I can tell, writer Victor Levin spent time trapped inside a Hallmark store pilfering romantic wisdom (to use the term loosely) from Valentine's Day cards; then, after collecting all the lines about love Shoebox had to offer, he divided them among the bland cast. As small-town girl Rosalee, Kate Bosworth (Blue Crush) is cute; she grins constantly and is sweeter than you can stand. Topher Grace holds his own as Rosalee's hilarious, bitterly sarcastic, and romantically overlooked best friend. But Josh Duhamel, the "Tad" of the title, is supposedly a hugely successful, lecherous Hollywood jerk. Considering he can't even act interested in the other characters – or act like he's awake for that matter – it's hard to buy him as a famous thespian. Not everything about this film is bad; it's just that nothing stands out as overwhelmingly good. (1:36) Century Plaza, Century 20, Jack London, Kabuki, Orinda. (McCartney)

The Young Black Stallion (1:00) Metreon Imax.

*Yves Saint Laurent: 5, Avenue Marceau, 75116 Paris To Deneuve or not to Deneuve – that is the question for those who catch only one of David Teboul's pair of documentaries about Yves Saint Laurent. 5, Avenue Marceau, 75116 Paris, the more kinetic and cinematic of the two, favors the former option. A bespectacled, tough Catherine Deneuve appears early with maximum dramatic diva effect, violently pulling back curtains so viewers can watch her judge and model YSL daytime wear while surrounded by a buzzing throng. During this brief, too-smart-for-reality-TV performance, one learns that she has many hens (and prefers them to roosters), and that – surprisingly – she'll answer a cell phone call in the midst of a conversation. Of course, the film is about Saint Laurent, or, more specifically, the creation of his 2001 spring-summer collection, from sketches to finished garments. Direct and highly stylized, Teboul's direction doesn't have to look far to find an arty angle – one shot uses a dressing-room mirror to hallucinatory effect – but he's also keenly attuned to the personal dynamics of those who work by Saint Laurent's side, and the resentments of those who work under them. One dress-in-progress is, in the designer's own words, "sensational." (1:25) Roxie. (Huston)

*Yves Saint Laurent: His Life and Times A more straightforward biographical primer that functions as a counterpoint to the artist-at-work approach of David Teboul's other Yves Saint Laurent documentary, His Life and Times fascinates and frustrates as it charts the rapid ascent, descent, and resurrection of Christian Dior's heir apparent, who bows only to Chanel when contemplating his own legacy. Some anecdotes are funny: his mother remembers a three-year-old Yves voicing disapproval about an aunt's dress! The personalities of two YSL muses – Loulou de la Falaise and Betty Catroux – are set in stark relief, while the designer's chief love, Pierre Berge, offers different memories of, and perspectives on, their shared past. (That is, when his parrots aren't drowning him out.) Chain-smoking and quoting from his beloved Proust as he nears retirement, Saint Laurent resembles a less-alien Andy Warhol in terms of chilly enigmatic presence; his melancholic side is abundantly apparent, but Teboul – true to his fashion – shies away from unflattering personal details. (1:17) Roxie. (Huston)

Rep picks

*'Global Lens' See Movie Clock. Smith Rafael.