dir. Todd Louiso

Films about grief usually come down to catharsis, for characters and audience alike. We suffer together for 90 minutes and then are invited to let go for a climactic gush as the movie--anything from Stella Dallas to Leaving Las Vegas--hurtles toward redemption. Love Liza is solely about grief, but the needed emotional payoff doesn't solve anyone's problems. That's not the only twist that makes the film so rewarding, but it's high on the list. At the top of that list, predictably, is Philip Seymour Hoffman (freed here from the shackles of Paul Thomas Anderson's horrid dialogue). Hoffman plays a widower who spirals into drug addiction and despair as his grief goes unacknowledged, like the unopened suicide note he carries around while huffing gasoline, sabotaging his career, and alienating his friends. What distinguishes Love Liza is the idea that unprocessed grief will fester and consume the bereaved. It's not a new thought, but in the hands of Hoffman, screenwriter Gordy Hoffman (his brother), and director Todd Louiso (who played the gentle indie nerd in High Fidelity), it is allowed not only to take rich dramatic root, but also to be funny, at the expense of people in pain. In a film full of misery, such humor is the only hope. SEAN NELSON

Russian Ark

dir. Alexander Sokurov

Fri-Thurs Feb 7-13 at the Varsity.

Walking through a museum can be like walking through history, depending on the museum and the walker. It's this principle that inspired this revolutionarily ambitious movie that consists of 867 actors, hundreds more extras, and 300 years of Russian history, all packed into a single Steadicam shot lasting just over 90 minutes.

First things first: This film is a spectacular technical achievement, with some of the most elaborate choreography ever mounted in the cinema; the camera pushes through the Hermitage in St. Petersburg, glancing from painting to ballroom to snowbank, from Peter the Great to Catherine II to Pushkin, with seamless grace and flawless execution. By the end, a majestic orchestral set piece, you're left exhilarated and exhausted. Before the end, however, you may just find yourself drifting. For all its technical marvels, Russian Ark is essentially a monologue of Eastern European cynicism--"Peter the Great ordered the death of his own son. The man who taught the Russians to enjoy themselves. How funny!"--fleshed out with visual aids from history (Catherine looking for a place to pee). The disquisition is led by an arch French diplomat in a waistcoat, who stalks through the Hermitage and history, opining and meditating on human nature while the camera (standing in for the character of "the filmmaker") follows him. Some of the observations, particularly those flecked with sorrow (because all cynicism is, at heart, wounded sentimentality), have the ring of wisdom, but most are along the lines of "Russia is like a theater" or "could this be theater?" The answer to the latter question is no, because without the novelty of the single shot and the unstuck-in-time conceit, this movie wouldn't be a play, it'd be a journal entry. The film's insufferable theatrical conventions--mainly a function of the actors--can be forgiven because of the scope of the production; but when you peel away the technical novelty, you're basically watching a bunch of old paint. SEAN NELSON

The Quiet American

dir. Phillip Noyce

British author Graham Greene was wary of America's involvement in Vietnam way back in 1956, when he published The Quiet American. In the novel, the titular American, Alden Pyle, believes there is a way to save Vietnam from Communism without reverting back to colonialism. The jaded English journalist Thomas Fowler starts to notice the underhanded methods being employed by the U.S. government (and Pyle's apparent ties to them), but is initially hesitant to expose them. The conflict is also played out on a more personal (and metaphorical) level as Pyle seduces Fowler's Vietnamese girlfriend Phuong. Joseph Mankiewicz made the story into a movie in 1958, but turned it into propaganda promoting American policy in Vietnam. Greene was not amused, but knew his book would outlast that version.

Philip Noyce has now made a movie closer to Greene's vision. Michael Caine deserves all the praise he's received for his role as Fowler, while Brendan Fraser slightly overplays the wide-eyed idealism that inspired America's misguided involvement in Vietnam. The metaphor of the love triangle doesn't work here nearly as well as the more overt politics, but the movie is worth seeing if only because it shows how America can do the wrong thing with the best of intentions. ANDY SPLETZER

Venus Boyz

dir. Gabrielle Baur

Thurs Feb 6-Sun Feb 9 at the Little Theatre.

Venus Boyz--a documentary about drag king culture, revolving around New York City's Club Casanova--is eloquently summed up in one scene, wherein a drag king and queen hit Times Square and ask random people what makes a good man or a good woman. The on-the-street responses vary (one answer: "The way a man treats a woman"), but the entire film tries to answer that question, through interviews with women who perform as men, live as men, or consider themselves somewhere in the middle of the gender spectrum.

Even for folks who aren't enthralled with drag shows (like me), it's a fascinating film that'll make you question what qualifies you as woman (or man, for that matter).

The film's Little Theatre showings, hosted by local drag celebs, are part of Drag Fest 2003. A ladies-only moustache contest, other drag films, live drag performances, and a "Pimp & Ho Ball" at Noiselab round out the events (check out nwfilmforum.org for more details). AMY JENNIGES