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

*Blind Shaft See Critic's Choice. (1:32) Act I and II, Opera Plaza, Smith Rafael.

*Breakfast with Hunter "How is any filmmaker going to be able to get inside Hunter's head?" writer George Plimpton asks upon noticing the omnipresent film cameras following the king of the gonzos. The answer, as director Wayne Ewing wisely gleaned early on, is that you don't try to penetrate the notoriously addled noodle at all; the trick is to try to keep up with Hunter S. Thompson's wild ride for as long as possible. It's this ideology that makes the day(s)-in-the-life tour with the celebrity journalist circa the late '90s so damned fun to watch, as the counterculture icon as he observes his Sin City literary masterwork, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, struggle to the big screen. Plenty of notables give dutiful documentary lip service, but like the man himself, the actions here speak louder than the words: the film's voyeuristic highs come simply from seeing Thompson unhinged, whether he's berating Alex Cox, attacking Jann Wenner with a fire extinguisher, or teaching Johnny Depp's bird how to talk. (1:31) Roxie. (Fear)

Broken Lizard's Club Dread The comedy team behind Super Troopers returns with this tale of a swingin' vacation paradise plagued by a serial killer. (1:30) Century Plaza, Century 20, Grand Lake.

*Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights See Movie Clock. (1:26) Century Plaza, Century 20, Jack London.

Karaoke Fever A "competition doc" à la Spellbound, but with dramatic tension drawn not from cute little kids but from hell-bent karaoke crooners, Arthur Borman and Steve Danielson's Karaoke Fever follows the many roads that lead to the 1999 incarnation of SoCal's Karaoke Fest. Various performers are highlighted en route to the big night; some are cocky (a Blues Brothers duet act, a solo artist named Julian Moreno who may or may not have changed his name from Ron Williams), some are nonchalant (Mariah Carey sound-alike Gherlie, who's more focused on getting a degree than a musical career), and some see the karaoke world as a stepping stone to the big time (Spencer, who earnestly emotes Phantom of the Opera ballads). This shot-on-video production is made less effective by some audio problems, which at times make even the best singers sound muffled or shrill. But by the end, Karaoke Fever does efficiently answer that age-old burning question: "What happens to all those wannabe stars who are too old and/or not photogenic enough to get on American Idol?" (1:30) Red Vic. (Eddy)

The Passion of the Christ See "Hell on Earth," page 38. (2:07) California, Century Plaza, Century 20, Empire, Grand Lake, Jack London, Orinda.

Twisted Ashley Judd stars as a San Francisco detective on the trail of a serial killer whose victims are all men she has recently slept with. (1:37) Century Plaza, Century 20, Jack London.

Ongoing

Against the Ropes Ever since she was a girl, Jackie Kallen (Meg Ryan) wanted to have a ringside seat in the boys' club of professional boxing. She gets her chance when a piggish fight promoter (Tony Shalhoub) humiliates her into becoming a manager, and her first find (Omar Epps) turns out to be a diamond in the rough. It's easy to see why Ryan, who helped nurture the movie for years, saw Kallen's tough-cookie true story as an opportunity to expand her horizons, but what's funny is how much of the old Ryan persona still comes through – she even makes flinty seem cuddly here. One wonders why she didn't solicit a more experienced director than her costar Charles S. Dutton to helm her pet project, however, as the first-time feature filmmaker's insistence on cliché combinations (there's even a slow Rudy clap!) and slapping on the most willfully cheesy score ever reduces the Cinderella boxing story to nothing but the NutraSweet science. (1:51) Century Plaza, Century 20, Jack London, 1000 Van Ness, Shattuck. (Fear)

Along Came Polly (1:30) Century 20, 1000 Van Ness.

The Barbarian Invasions (2:03) Oaks, Opera Plaza.

Barbershop 2: Back in Business (1:40) Century 20, Jack London, Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness.

*The Battle of Algiers Not many movies can boast a continual presence on many greatest-film-ever lists and the dubious "privilege" of being name-dropped by Pentagon officials as a tool for understanding terrorism some 39 years after its release, but Gillo Pontecorvo's masterpiece is not your typical Saturday afternoon matinee. It's truly revolutionary in every sense of the word, from the you-are-there newsreel aesthetic (it's hard to register that you're watching a work of fiction even after several viewings) to its cast of real-life Algerian Liberation Front members dramatizing their guerrilla struggle against French colonialists. History won't be weighing in on any current imperialistic parallels viewers might recognize in Pontecorvo's ticking agitprop time bomb for several generations, but if there's a lesson to be drawn from this classic, it's that the fight for hearts and minds by any other name still comes with a price: the humanity of both oppressors and resistance alike. (2:03) Castro, Shattuck. (Fear)

Big Fish (2:00) 1000 Van Ness, Shattuck.

The Butterfly Effect (1:53) Century 20, 1000 Van Ness.

Calendar Girls (1:48) Piedmont.

Catch That Kid (1:34) Century 20.

*City of God City of God is a Rio de Janeiro housing project, but rather than simply present it as a setting, director Fernando Meirelles views it as a character – perhaps the dominant one – in the film. In one vivid segment a single fixed point of view witnesses the deterioration of an apartment as it's passed down from one drug dealer to another. The stronger and younger the kingpin, the trashier his kingdom. But static points of view aren't Meirelles's specialty. Working with codirector Kátia Lund, he's stylistically giddy in the face of much adolescent and preadolescent violence, running circles around the surface linearity of the plot's chapter structure and uncorking an array of techniques: God's-eye aerial shots that suggest the almighty has a finger on the fast-forward button, freeze-frame character intros that revive blaxploitation swank, and camera movements that follow the paths of ricocheting bullets or circle around the violence with the speed of a meth-addled figure skater. (2:10) Opera Plaza, Orinda, Shattuck. (Huston)

*Cold Mountain (2:35) Century 20, Four Star, Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness.

Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen Big-city hip meets suburban drab in this syrupy teen flick, and never before has Disney's shamelessness looked so fashionable. The drama begins when Lola (Lindsay Lohan) moves from the shiny Big Apple to a lamentably uncool suburb in New Jersey, where even an up-to-the-minute wardrobe can't help her fit in at her new high school. She still manages to land the lead in the school play, but finds a formidable rival in Carla Santini (Megan Fox), the neighborhood's popular, all-purpose bitch. Lola's only hope is to meet her favorite rock star, Stu Wolff (Adam Garcia) – "the greatest poet since Shakespeare" – and pray that her classmates believe he's her buddy. Stuffed with maudlin subplots and one-liners ("May choirs of rockstars sing you to sleep"), the film's only saving grace is its moral message: you have to know someone famous to be popular. But assailing this ridiculous movie is like scolding a mercurial teen – entirely apt but what's the point? (1:30) Century Plaza, Century 20, Grand Lake, Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness. (Kim)

The Cooler (1:41) Galaxy.

Crying Ladies (1:50) Century 20.

The Dreamers Romantic, atmospheric, nostalgic, offhandedly stunning, and extremely silly, the first minutes of The Dreamers are a not-quite-straight dose of Bernardo Bertolucci. His unmatched directorial flair for shadows that dart from the corner of the screen functions as a flirty counterpoint to the severe blocks of black in Samuel Fuller's Shock Corridor, watched by a rapt crowd at Henri Langlois's famed Cinémathèque Française. The audience includes American in Paris Matthew (Michael Pitt), who is about to meet cute twins Theo (Louis Garrel) and Isabelle (Eva Green). It's extraordinary that Bertolucci – the masterful stylist whose filmic flesh caresses famously sent Pauline Kael reeling – hasn't indulged a movie-length ménage à trois so thoroughly before. The Dreamers' turning point occurs when conservative Matthew faints after a shake-it-like-a-Polaroid-picture moment of exposure. Reawakened, he finally enters the twins' childish playland only to discover a sheltered, decaying realm he only half comprehends. The resulting psychological and political insights verge on trite. (2:01) California, Empire, Lumiere. (Huston)

Eurotrip It's no Road Trip, but for most of its running time this Continental knockoff from the former's producers is pretty funny. Scotty (Scott Mechlowicz) is mortified – on high school graduation day – to discover that not only is his girlfriend dumping him, but that she's also done half the class of '04 behind his back. He subsequently decides, with best friend Cooper (Jacob Pitts), to join twins Jenny (Michelle Trachtenberg) and Jamie (Travis Wester) on a summer trip to Europe, with Scotty's as-yet-unmet German Internet pen pal (Jessica Boehrs) the ultimate goal. The first stop is London, thronged with soccer hooligans (led by actual soccer "hard man" Vinnie Jones); then Paris, to prove that beating up on mimes can still be très amusing; Amsterdam, where attractions include ex-Xena Lucy Lawless as a dominatrix; and so forth, until Rome, where inspiration suddenly lapses amid tasteless but tepid Vatican gags. Still, a good three-quarters of Eurotrip is hilarious in a low-brow yet likable, non-mean-spirited way. (Even the myriad gay jokes land on the right side of silly.) Showing up briefly are Joanna Lumley, Fred Armisen, Rade Serbedzija, and Matt Damon, the latter mysteriously easy to overlook (though he's very conspicuously placed) thanks to a shaved head and a few tattoos. (1:32) California, Century Plaza, Century 20, Jack London, Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness. (Harvey)

50 First Dates Adam Sandler should thank his lucky stars for Drew Barrymore. After a string of loser films (Little Nicky, Mr. Deeds, Anger Management) he's finally back on top with Barrymore by his side. The duo don't quite recapture the magic of The Wedding Singer, but thanks to Barrymore's quirky charm and endless charisma, they manage a hilarious romantic comedy, which, oddly enough, isn't a chick flick. While the ludicrous premise is a bit hard to swallow – Barrymore's character loses her memory every night – Sandler makes it work and thankfully doesn't push the gross-out humor too far. The supporting characters, played by Lord of the Rings' Sean Astin and Sandler fave Rob Schneider, steal most scenes they appear in. Sandler is at his best when matched with Barrymore and would do well to remember that. (1:36) Century Plaza, Century 20, Jack London, Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness. (Melissa McCartney)

*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) Act I and II, Embarcadero. (Gerhard)

*The Fourth World War Big Noise's new film could be considered the antiglobalization movement's Koyaanisqatsi. The media collective has edited together outraged humanity from all points to build a case against globalization and for mass action on every continent where bottles can be thrown and police cars firebombed. The footage – much of it up close and frightening – is not safely culled from outside sources, but shot by the collective itself on the front lines, in grave danger. The scope of the argument may be too big as the film hops from Israeli-Palestinian conflict to anti-WTO protesters in Genoa and Quebec to the activism of post-apartheid South Africa to the Zapatistas of Chiapas, but as protest porn, it can't be beat. Michael Franti helps narrate, and Ozomatli and Manu Chao help give the revolution a powerful soundtrack. (1:14) Victoria Theatre. (Gerhard)

Girl with a Pearl Earring (1:39) Clay, Shattuck.

The Gospel of John (3:00) Galaxy.

House of Sand and Fog (2:06) Oaks.

In America (1:43) Albany, California, Embarcadero, Orinda.

Kitchen Stories Forging a path on the post-World World II road to maximum peace-front efficiency, Sweden's Home Research Institute is conducting studies in domestic habit – the better to streamline every manse into a well-oiled engine for meal production and added quality leisure time. Having already "done" the average housewife, the HRI's new focus is the single male. One group of "observers" is dispatched to rural Norway. Pen and clipboard dutifully in hand, perched owl-like atop what appears to be a giant baby's ceiling-scraping high chair, Folke (Tomas Norström) must spend hours each day recording the scullery movements of Isak (Joachim Calmeyer) in his frigid farmhouse. Gradually, the two middle-age men breach officialdom's prescribed barriers, finding they enjoy one another's company very much. No, Kitchen Stories isn't a coming-out tale. Rather, this third feature from Bent Hamer is another writ-small portrait of gently funny, well-observed, moderately eccentric humanity whose charm creeps up on you slowly but surely. (1:35) Opera Plaza, Shattuck, Smith Rafael. (Harvey)

The Last Samurai (2:24) 1000 Van Ness.

The Legend of Leigh Bowery Early on in Charles Atlas's tribute to the enfant terrible of London's '80s art world and drag scene, a family member holds up a school picture of the young Australian lad radiating a wide-grinned innocence. Cut to the boy years later dressed in a latex bodysuit and in blackface, and you've pretty much captured the essence of the late Leigh Bowery, a one-man fashion disaster-cum-shock artist who somehow managed to make his clubland-meets-Cabaret Voltaire vogue designs both whimsical and absolutely terrifying. That a documentary about a figure so devoted to breaking down all types of barriers – from sexuality and haute couture to simple good taste – should tell his story in the tame verite path of talking-head interviews almost seems more perverse than Bowery's anything-goes attitude. But when Atlas simply lets Bowery's legacy do the talking through the plentiful photo shoots and performance footage left behind after the innovator's AIDS-related demise in the '90s, the result feels legendary indeed. (1:22) Roxie. (Fear)

*The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (3:21) Century 20, Grand Lake, 1000 Van Ness.

Lost in Translation (1:45) Four Star, 1000 Van Ness, Orinda, Shattuck.

*The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra (1:29) Shattuck.

*Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World (2:08) Oaks.

Miracle Miracle dramatizes the story of the 1980 U.S. Olympic hockey team's victory over the previously unbeatable USSR ice jockeys; any modest pleasures derived from the stock underdog true story come from recognizing the familiar signposts along its well-worn path – the Ditka-esque coach (Kurt Russell) whose methods are eccentric but effective, the tortuous training montages, the kids who need to prove they've got what it takes, the inspirational speeches, and finally the against-the-odds climactic game that plays like tryouts for Valhalla. Director Gavin O'Connor (Tumbleweeds) has a knack for capturing the era's Northeastern blue-collar landscape, giving the story a concrete sense of place and time. But the movie's insistence on treating the event as if it were myth ludicrously pushes the proceedings into the stratosphere, starting with the sucking-in-the-'70s credit sequence and building toward the idea that this match was the only salve for a beleaguered nation. (2:25) Century 20, Grand Lake, Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness. (Fear)

*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, Piedmont, Shattuck. (Harvey)

*My Architect (1:46) Galaxy, Shattuck, Smith Rafael.

Mystic River (2:20) Century 20, Empire, Lumiere, Shattuck.

*Osama Writer-director Siddiq Barmak's Osama describes the strategies and consequences of a world turned upside down, of a life continually perverted into its opposite. The first Afghan feature film since the rise and fall of the Taliban centers on a 12-year-old Afghan girl (an affecting Marina Golbahari) who lives with her mother and grandmother in Kabul during the reign of the Taliban (1996-2001). Her male relatives were lost earlier to the war with the Soviets and the subsequent civil war, and with her mother unemployed (the hospital she worked at was closed down by the Taliban), the family faces starvation. Mother and grandmother take the desperate step of cutting the girl's hair and dressing her as a boy. In a nearly constant state of fear, the girl shoulders the responsibility of finding work and bringing home food. In the facial expressions and body language of his excellent amateur cast, Barmak, who fled Kabul two weeks after the Taliban invasion, captures the physiognomy of a war-shattered people, physically and mentally exhausted yet necessarily alert. A few of Barmak's directorial choices are heavy-handed, but the film compels the viewer with its aesthetically rich lingering on the details of life, a style obviously influenced by, among other things, Iran's decidedly humanist cinema. (1:22) Lumiere. (Avila)

Peter Pan (1:45) Orinda.

Something's Gotta Give (2:03) Century 20, Four Star, Galaxy, Kabuki.

The Station Agent (1:28) Opera Plaza.

Touching the Void Mountaineering documentaries generally suffer from the fact that you aren't there, while dramatized ones are either physically unconvincing or have jaw-dropping stunts but wooden characters. Hitherto a notable nonfiction director (One Day in September), Kevin Macdonald chose to realize this adaptation of Joe Simpson's classic 1988 bum-adventure memoir as a mix of documentary and reenactment, which brings its own problems but overall works pretty well. Simpson and his hiking partner Simon Yates alternate telling the tale in talking-head style while two actors (Brendan Mackey and Nicholas Aaron) register varying degrees of panic, exhaustion, and horror high in the Alps (standing in for the Andes). Touching the Void defines the subgenre of "armchair near death-experience travel;" the story is an incredible triumph over impossible odds. But as a viewer who actually enjoys grueling, steep hikes but draws the line when falling equals death, I couldn't help thinking, "These dumb suckers were sooooooo lucky!" from the opening titles to the final credit crawl. (1:46) Albany, Bridge, Piedmont, Smith Rafael. (Harvey)

*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, Shattuck. (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) Embarcadero, Shattuck. (Harvey)

Welcome to Mooseport A former U.S. president (Gene Hackman) opts to settle down in the quaint New England burg of Mooseport. He ends up running for mayor to impress the town's shapely veterinarian (Maura Tierney) – angering her boyfriend, the local hardware store owner (Ray Romano), who decides he'll run for the office against the ex-Commander in Chief. There's a myriad of possibilities for a film armed with this premise – Capra-esque populism, a biting satire of modern-day politics, the gentle ribbing of homespun-Americana values – which makes the decision by director Donald Petrie (Miss Congeniality) to veer down the blandest middle-of-the-road path possible all the more frustrating. What few yuks are present never rises above the laugh track level; in fact, with its gaggle of familiar TV faces on parade here, this harmless Saltine cracker of a movie really feels like nothing more than two hours of innocuous prime-time programming, projected onto a slightly bigger boob tube. (1:50) Century Plaza, Century 20, Jack London, Kabuki, 1000 Van Ness. (Fear)

You Got Served (1:33) Century 20, 1000 Van Ness.

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

Rep Picks

'The Best of INPUT' Serving as a warm-up to the Bay Area's hosting of the big 2005 International Public Television (neé INPUT) conference, this two-day festival courtesy of KQED and the Independent Television Service highlights the best viewer-sponsored broadcast programs from around the globe. The grab bag of short films and tidbits literally runs the gamut from flashy neorealism (Sweden's The First Gypsy in Space) to flaccid reality TV (Ireland's please-tell-me-this-a-parody documentary on blind ambition titled Marcus), but a few true treasures stand out from the pack: France's faux-vérité Dark Side of the Moon, an eerily convincing "investigative report" that attempts to expose a conspiracy between NASA, Nixon, and Stanley Kubrick to fake the 1969 Apollo moon landing; Switzerland's Dogme-styled Back for More, in which an absentee father's abrupt attempt to return to the fold amplifies the previous disharmony one-hundredfold; and the brilliant "Hidden," an animated short about an eight-year-old boy living underground due to immigration policies that packs more poignancy and resonance into eight minutes than most bloated spectacles do in several hours. See Rep Clock for a schedule. KQED. (Fear)

*Eyes Without a Face Yes, Billy Idol turned this movie into a song – though he does little more than repeatedly croon the title phrase – but don't hold that against Georges Franju's eerily prescient 1960 look at cosmetic surgery and identity theft. Celebrities from Hollywood and Neverland might see more of themselves than they'd like to in Franju's strange tale of a scientist (Pierre Brasseur) who kidnaps young women and attempts to graft their faces onto the crash-damaged visage of his daughter (Edith Scob). Eyes Without a Face is France's addition to a 1960 triumvirate of trailblazing horrors rounded out by Psycho from the United States and Peeping Tom from England. Franju's 1949 slaughterhouse doc The Blood of the Beasts had already established that he was capable of staring a flayed victim in the eye without flinching: you've been warned. But this Buñuel-ian assault also has many Cocteau-like poetic touches, from the deranged calliope-like score to Scob's mime-like reliance on melancholic hand gestures. Look for the inimitable Alida Valli, who makes a post-Visconti and pre-Argento supporting turn, donning a shiny black trench coat to assist the doctor in his nighttime schemes. (1:35) Castro. (Huston)

*Human Rights Watch International Film Festival See "Around the Block," page 37. PFA Theater.