LIMITED RUN


* Absolute XTC
Are you a fanatical admirer of seminal '80s art rock band XTC? Maybe you'd like to know what all the fuss is about: an eccentric Eno-influenced quartet whose agoraphobic singer/guitarist Andy Partridge announced just after their brilliant single "Senses Working Overtime" became a hit in 1982, that they'd never tour again. Though the band (Partridge and singer/bassist Colin Moulding) continues to record, videos and concert footage are rare. But tonight the AV Club has compiled an impressive collection--including TV appearances and puppet shows. (I'm especially looking forward to "No Thugs in Our House," a song which was the indirect cause of a car crash I was in 15 years ago. Stopped at a traffic light, the driver obsessively rewound the song as we sat a couple seconds too long after the light turned green and a car, barreling up from behind, smashed us through the intersection.) Subpoenaed Lemur will perform some XTC covers, as well as original songs. (KATHLEEN WILSON)

The Breakfast Club
"My image of you is totally blown." Fremont Outdoor Movies, Sat at dusk.

Childish Film Festival
See Stranger Suggests. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, "childish" can mean either "of, belonging, or proper to childhood" or "not befitting mature age, puerile." Chalk this charming three week-long series up in column one. Little Theater, Grand Illusion, Cinerama, see www.nwfilmforum.org for further info.

The Cuckoo
See review this issue. Varsity, Fri-Sun at 2:10, 4:30, 7, 9:20 pm, Mon at 7, 9:20 pm.

Desperately Seeking Helen
The fifth film in Seattle Art Museum's South Asian Reels series, Desperately Seeking Helen tells the autobiographical story of director Eisha Marhara's search for a movie starlet in Bombay. Seattle Art Museum, Fri at 7 pm.

Films by Bruce Baillie
See Blow Up. 911 Media Arts Center, Fri at 8 pm.

Grease
Get it? 'Cause it's actually a horrible movie with shitty songs written in a vaguely '50s idiom but produced for maximum late-'70s disco-shadow airplay. HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! I love it, too! Redhook Brewery, Thurs at 7:30 pm.

In the Mirror of Maya Deren
Maya Deren was the beautiful filmmaker behind what many consider to be one of the most influential American experimental films, Meshes of the Afternoon. Deren died of a brain hemorrhage 42 years ago at the age of 44, and the documentary In the Mirror of Maya Deren, by Czech documentarian Martina Kudlacek, offers interviews with Deren's surviving friends, colleagues, and a few of the many lovers she enjoyed during her short life. It also features footage from her major and minor experimental films (which were silent and shot on 16mm), recordings of her lectures on art and aesthetics, and recordings of the music she collected during her visits to Haiti, a country whose pagan practices fascinated her to no end. (CHARLES MUDEDE)

Kiss Meets the Phantom of the Park
See Blow Up. Sunset, Mon at 8 pm.

* Repo Man
"Goddamn-dipshit-Rodriguez-gypsy-dildo-punks! I'll get your ass!" Grand Illusion, Fri-Sat at 11 pm.

Rock & Roll High School
"They're ugly. Ugly, ugly people." Egyptian, Fri-Sat at midnight.

The Slaughter Rule
See Blow Up. Seattle Art Museum, Tues at 7:30 pm.

Star Trek 2: The Wrath of Khan
"KHAAANNNN! KHAAANNNN!" Fremont Outdoor Movies, Fri at dusk.

NOW PLAYING


* 28 Days Later
How do you like your pop-apocalypse, sci-fi horror? If you like it loud, smart, and scary as all get out, you cannot miss this. Animal activists accidentally release a rage virus on London that turns the population into cannibalistic predators who could outrun a zombie anytime, anywhere. The unaffected few band together and end up in a military compound where the soldiers are as bad as the infected. Yes. This film kicks ass. (SHANNON GEE)

American Splendor
See review this issue. TK

American Wedding
If you're finishing a trilogy about boners, boning, blow jobs, motherfuckers, call girls, and gay dudes, who needs a plot? The answer to your real question: pretty funny, although this third piece of the American Pie trilogy doesn't measure up to the first. And American Wedding definitely belongs to Stifler, who learns that in order to be the star of a Hollywood comedy, you're gonna have to eat shit from time to time. Just please promise this is the last one. (JENNIFER MAERZ)

Bad Boys 2
A Miami drug dealer plans his escape to Cuba--that is, if Will Smith and Martin Lawrence don't riddle him with bullet holes first. Riddle is indeed the right word here, for Smith and Lawrence's raison d'ĂŞtre in Bad Boys II appears to be to dispose of enemies with as many rounds as possible; from the very opening of the film, when the duo bring a swift end to a Ku Klux Klan meeting (shooting as many quips at the hicks as bullets), ridiculous amounts of firepower are expended. Why use two rounds to disable an opponent when you can use 50? Why shoot that bad guy when you can blow him 30 feet into the air? This is Michael Bay 101, and if Bad Boys II proves anything, it's that Bay's attempt at cinematic respectability was soundly ended with the horrendous Pearl Harbor. Bad Boys II is classic, trashy, inexcusable Bay. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)

Bend It Like Beckham
Essentially a traditional coming-of-age story, though with a spicy ethnic twist: A hot Anglo-Indian teenage girl in outer London pursues her dream of professional soccer stardom against the wishes of her traditional Sikh parents--immigrants who, still steeped in Indian culture, are only concerned with her educational and marriage prospects, and consequently just don't get it. Stuff happens and challenges are overcome, and Mummy and Papa come around in the end, as we know they will, but the predictable conventionality of the plot structure is expertly obscured by the pleasures of the journey. It is all charming fluff and captivating if improbable lightness, of course, but for a feel-good comedy, there is no higher praise. (SANDEEP KAUSHIK)

Bruce Almighty
Just when you thought there was nothing worse than an earnest Jim Carrey comedy, it hits you like a sack of shit in the kisser--there is something worse, and that's an earnest Jim Carrey comedy that casts the overacting, overarching comedian as God. If I wanted religion and the importance of prayer shoved down my throat like a giant morality tampon sucking up every last bit of patience until I'm suffocating on it, I'd be on my knees in a pew already. But there's no reason for me--or anyone else--to sit through crap with lines like, "Miracles are single mothers of two who take their kids to soccer practice." Are you fucking kidding me? Is this a joke? No, it's not. It's the inane story of Jim Carrey as Bruce Nolan, a loser who takes the Lord's (Morgan Freeman) name in vain until He gives ol' Bruce His job so Bruce can see the importance of prayer beads and learn why God doesn't help people win the lottery and stupid stuff like that. It's also yet another example of how Jim Carrey has failed to be significantly funny since In Living Color hit reruns (and I don't even know if he was funny on that show anymore). (JENNIFER MAERZ)

Camp
Camp, Todd Graff's low-budget comedy about a summer camp for theatrically inclined teens, arrives in Seattle trailing a crowd-pleasing reputation and an impressive amount of critical praise. The crowd-pleasing rep is understandable--any film devoted to the dramatic exertions of pubescent misfits is sure to provide its share of enthralling hilarity. But the critical gushing is... bizarre. Because where several big-name critics claim to have witnessed "a triumphant minor miracle," I saw only a fatally klutzy teen soap opera, albeit one with some devilish twists, some NAMBLA-flavored eye candy, and a whole bunch of entertaining wigs (not to mention one super-sappy plot twist that literally had me gaping in horror). Still, if you've ever been brought to tears by anything written by Andrew Lloyd Webber, you will most likely cheer for Camp. (DAVID SCHMADER)

Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle
What I wanted to see was a parable about the power of an older, wiser woman striking back at the young, naive, and pert-breasted. And Demi Moore looks amazing, it is true. But it isn't possible to read anything into this movie: If you try to apply your brain to it, it snaps back like a rubber band. Reality is just a construct anyway, subject to flat, shimmering moments of CGI. The more improbable the situation, the funnier it is (from the falling getaway truck that miraculously provides a getaway helicopter, to the big book on opera on the table in Charlie's office); Cameron Diaz and Drew Barrymore can barely keep their faces straight as they deliver their lines--even Lucy Liu's deadpan shows signs of cracking. Full Throttle is not so much a movie as a string of inside jokes, action sequences, costume changes, and shots of Diaz's ass, but that's the point, right? There's a story in here somewhere about the witness protection plan, an ex-Angel, and some orphans, but really it's a wet dream for both genders: Never underestimate the pure pleasure of seeing a gal throw a man through a jukebox. (EMILY HALL)

Daddy Day Care
Is Eddie Murphy just too busy counting his money to read scripts? Or perhaps they're all just printed on hundred-dollar bills. The once-great man hits us with yet another piece of middling excrement in the form of a Mr. Mom knock-off.

Dirty Pretty Things
I'm sad to announce that Dirty Pretty Things is a failure. True, it is a beautiful failure, as it is beautifully shot, with beautiful set designs, and beautiful actors (Amistad's Chiwetel Ejiofor, who plays, with great success, a fallen but still noble Nigerian doctor, and Amélie's Audrey Tautou, who plays with considerably less success a vulnerable Turkish immigrant); but in terms of its concept, plot, and general message, the movie falls apart shortly after it starts. (CHARLES MUDEDE)

* Finding Nemo
A ridiculously gorgeous film, Finding Nemo proves yet again Pixar's current chokehold on big-screen animation. From the facial expressions of the fish and background shots of gently swaying sea grass, to expansive harbor shots of Sydney and the continual mist of plankton wisping by, every frame has been so detailed and obsessed over that the film stuns. Add in Pixar's gift for scripting, a gift that always makes their films tolerable for adults, and the end product is a flower of a movie, exceedingly well imagined, that is more than worth the multiplex gouging. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)

Freaky Friday
Despite the generally amiable Jamie Lee Curtis and the overwhelming presence of feigned teen rock band sequences (the greatest joy that the pubescent live-action genre affords), the new Freaky Friday movie is not the old Freaky Friday movie. Absent: Jodie Foster, Barbara Harris, Boss Hogg, and (in the most unfortunate oversight) the earth-shattering car-chase/water-skiing/hang-gliding finale. Present: an univested Jamie Lee, obligatory modernizations, and (most inexplicably) something called "Asian voodoo." (ZAC PENNINGTON)

Freddy Vs. Jason
I understand that a couple of decades of speculation will let anybody down, but childhood fantasies notwithstanding, FvJ is more of mess than you could possibly imagine. No, really. Granted, the Nightmare On Elm Street and Friday the 13th series' have long been entirely inexplicable (what with their innumerable ressurections, circular logics, and endless devices used to ensure mammarian explosion into the triple digits), but this time around one gets the feeling that director Ronny Yu left about six hours of boring ol' continuity on the cutting room floor. What for all purposes should have been merely a mediocre horror film instead shifts mid-stream to become a mediocre action film--leaving an even lamer shitbag of indecision. Let me save you the trouble: nobody dies... because they're ALREADY DEAD. (ZAC PENNINGTON)

* Gigantic (A Tale of Two Johns)
Gigantic chronicles They Might Be Giants' 20-year journey from a one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn to that same one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn, only now they're famous and have a Grammy on the wall. In between, we learn, by way of funny interviews with Flansburgh and Linnell, alongside talking-head testimony from devotees like Sarah Vowell, Dave Eggers, Ira Glass, Frank Black, and Syd Straw, and abundant archival footage, that their response to the attention they receive is amused resignation. Whether you like the band or not, it's hard not to be inspired by their indefatigable, self-contained idiosyncrasy. (SEAN NELSON)

Grind
Take a bunch of companies--SoBe, Pepsi, Butterfinger, Independent, and Slap, to name a few--and write a storyline around their huge banners and products that uses lots of fart and shit jokes, and chicks with big tits in little bikinis, and four dudes with some of those Simple Dreams of making it big. Voila! A product perfect for kids too stupid to know the difference between a terrible movie and a terrible movie about skateboarding. (JENNIFER MAERZ)

* The Hulk
Whether or not you buy the beast onscreen is dependent upon just how far you yourself are willing to leap--but the old tale has been given a modern overhaul by Ang Lee and writers James Schamus, John Turman, and Michael France for The Hulk. It may in fact be the most grown-up--and most emotionally fucked-up--comic-book movie ever assembled. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)

I Capture the Castle
Taking back the English period piece from those Merchant-Ivory hacks, this is one girl's coming-of-age film that anyone can enjoy. Two sisters live with their family in a remote castle, and their romantic prospects are severely limited until two American brothers inherit the land they are living on. The star of the movie is good, old-fashioned repression, and it is refreshing to see the more traditional happy ending replaced by unresolved longing. (Andy Spletzer)

The Italian Job
Pompous jackass (Edward Norton) and inflection-handicapped pretty boy (Mark Wahlberg) team up in The Italian Job, a remake of the 1969 heist comedy starring Michael Caine and Noel Coward, and somehow, shockingly, the result is not completely fucked--a sturdy, if unsurprising, summer fluff piece. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)

Johnny English
With the brief flash of the rather subtle, rather British Studio Canal logo immediately preceding that of the gaudy American Universal, I held the slightest inkling of hope for Johnny English, the once-brilliant Rowan Atkinson's latest vehicle for mediocrity. But be warned: Despite its appearances, Johnny English is not a British film. It is an American film. As American as his previous effort, the dismal Bean. Which means, in short, he gets shit stuck in other shit. And is shat upon. Shit, shit, shit. Shit every-which-a-way. (ZAC PENNINGTON)

Lara Croft Tomb Raider: Cradle of Life
It's come to this: a movie where all the references are not to previous adventure flicks, but to special effects from previous adventure flicks. That's what happens when you run out of ways to pit the evil against the less evil. What it is is Raiders of the Lost Ark all over again, with a race to find an ancient artifact that holds an unholy power that could flatten the world, and to get there unless the unscrupulous baddie gets there first. (Really, the similarities are uncanny, down to a coded map to the relic's location, and a medallion that holds the clue.) But originiality of plot line is hardly the reason to see this, of course. The reason is Angelina Jolie, in a parade of urban-guerrilla/rave-girl outfits. She is rather magnificent, even when she's ridiculous. (EMILY HALL)

Le Divorce
Le Divorce robs Merchant Ivory of their period trappings; it is set in the present day (based on Diane Johnson's novel), thus conjuring up nightmarish memories of the team's 1989 Slaves of New York. The effect is like granddad coming into the party to rap with the young folk: The tone, the timing, the touch is wrong. Kate Hudson and the vaguely haunting Naomi Watts (who may be as permanently shadowed by Mulholland Drive as Anthony Perkins was by Psycho) are sisters in Paris, but if this suggests the Ă©lan of expat adventure, forget it. They both act as though they've had the blood drained out of them; Ivory has the distinction of being the first director to dull Hudson's goldenrod glow. (CLAUDE ROC)

League of Extraordinary Gentlemen
A lame exercise in myth-historical revisionism in which the action is dull, the dialogue witless, the effects absurd (Mr. Hyde looks like the Hulk; Nemo's Nautilus looks like a binary code ejaculation), and the story about as lucid as Ronald Reagan. While they may never run out of comics to make into would-be summer blockbusters, they certainly appear to have run out of good ones. (SEAN NELSON)

Legally Blonde 2
More than any other actress, 27-year-old Southerner Reese Witherspoon embodies American ideals at their most... idealistic, representing the beauty, altruistic savvy, and awesomely fine-tuned dental hygiene we so admire in our finest citizens. A former cheerleader/debutante with a Stanford education, Witherspoon is the vision of moral upstandingness--the perfect fusion of Jackie Kennedy and Grace Kelly. She has even birthed a child and kept her figure. That's why we believe she can and will change the world through animal rights in Legally Blonde 2, in which Witherspoon reprises her amazing role as Elle Woods, whose desire for truth, justice, and the American way equalizes her unapologetic materialism. (JULIANNE SHEPHERD)

The Magdalene Sisters
Much is sacrificed (narrative continuity, character, plot) in The Magdalene Sisters to the terrible injustice wreaked upon the girls virtually imprisoned in the Magdalene laundries in Ireland--girls sent away by their parents (with the collusion of family priests, relatives, and a priggish society) for getting pregnant, being raped, or just for being dangerously attractive. Effectively the girls were disowned. The film is very heavy-handed and obvious, and perhaps too moralizing for a film about the dangers of moralizing. (EMILY HALL)

Marci X
In her long-awaited return to starring-role status (her first since the underrated masterpiece that is Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion), Lisa Kudrow stars as the heir to a successful hardcore hiphop label who must clean up the hardest of the hard, played unconvincingly by Damon Wayans. TK

Masked and Anonymous
Set in a mythic future America ravaged by revolutionary war, Masked concerns the planning and execution of a benefit concert headlined by the mysterious musical elder Jack Fate (Bob Dylan), featuring a cast of characters--from carnival barkers and minstrel dandies to dark ladies and prodigal sons--who might've wandered off side two of Highway 61 Revisited, portrayed by a cast of actors--Jessica Lange, John Goodman, Angela Bassett, Jeff Bridges--who might've wandered out of an Altman film. It's as an inspired continuation of Dylan's cryptic myth that Masked and Anonymous scores its biggest points. As a movie, it's a mess (albeit one with a knockout cast and some admirably big ideas). But as a cinematic rendering of the Bob Dylan experience, it's a beguiling, frequently intoxicating artifact. (DAVID SCHMADER)

The Matrix: Reloaded
The Wachowski Brothers--two ĂĽber-geeks, evidently, who surely concocted the entire Matrix universe whilst scheming in their parents' basement--have veered the series' storyline sharply this time around, as what appeared to be true in the elder sibling is not necessarily true in the younger, but even if the story is still massively underwhelming (at least to me--the Matrix obsessives will undoubtedly wet themselves, and God bless them for it), the sheer audacity the Wachowskis bring to the screen for Reloaded can only be described as brilliant. Like I stated before, you will see cool shit like you wouldn't believe--cool shit that makes the original Matrix look like The Ice Pirates--and whether you buy into the Wachowskis' massive tale or not, any film that shows you something you've never seen before--indeed, never dreamed possible, really--is worth the effort. There is art that moves you, and art that awes you. The Matrix Reloaded, despite its flaws, is the latter. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)

The Matrix: Reloaded at IMAX
Okay, so an already bloated movie is about to gain mucho weight, which means ĂĽber-geeks will get a chance to see Trinity's PVC-clad heart-shaped ass in three-story-tall glory. This is an enhancement, to be sure, but much like Attack of the Clones' stint at IMAX, The Matrix: Reloaded's transition from big screen to really fucking big screen seems completely unnecessary.

Medallion
Jackie Chan plays a stenographer in this 19th-century period piece about corruption in the British Parliment. Either that, or he compiles the scraps from his last decade of filmmaking into another piece of ass-kicking trash. Whichever. TK

A Mighty Wind
As with Christopher Guests' other films, Waiting for Guffman and Best in Show, the results of A Mighty Wind are alternately hilarious and flat. So much of what makes these movies enjoyable rests on the rhythm of the improv, which is why the increasingly rigid formula is both troublesome and necessary: It's the skeleton that allows these world-class performers to let loose (Fred Willard once again steals the show). The problem is that it's become so familiar that, taken together, the three films feel like one long, predictable sketch. (SEAN NELSON)

Mondays in the Sun
The title is a great description of unemployment, and it turns out to be the best part of the movie. A Spanish shipyard has shut down. The economy is depressed. Four men represent four different takes on how unemployment has affected the citizens. Despite some solid performances and plenty of good intentions, this is the kind of movie that would have worked better as a play. (Andy Spletzer) TK

My Boss's Daughter
Much to my editor's shagrin, Ashton Kutcher spends an hour and a half desperately trying to fuck another trashy Hollywood blonde (in this case Tara Reid)--to little avail. TK

* Nowhere in Africa
Nowhere in Africa follows a rich Jewish family that leaves Germany in 1938 and moves to Africa. There they can avoid the Nazis, but have to deal with some other issues like, oh, the lack of water. Naturally, the characters all experience guilt (you just can't have a Holocaust movie without guilt), but there are also things here you never see in any movie, such as the scene in which a swarm of locusts plunders a field of maize. The hazards of humanity and the hazards of nature are not dissimilar, this movie argues, though (at two and a half hours long) not very succinctly. Thankfully, the actor Merab Ninidze, who's very sexy, is in almost every scene. (CHRISTOPHER FRIZZELLE)

Open Range
There are certain sentences one never expects to write. Case in point: The new Kevin Costner picture is not long enough. Am I high? That depends on just when you're reading this, but as I write this review the answer is no--Kevin Costner's new Western, Open Range (which he directed, mind you), is indeed not long enough. Still and all, this doesn't mean that the picture is a good one (it's not)--just that one notices while watching it that Costner, after the three-hour debacle that was The Postman, is a little gun-shy when it comes to opus length this time around. Hence Open Range's 110-minute span--a span that is certainly reasonable, but here, given what Costner wishes to show us, comes up rather meager. Part standard Western, part attempted romantic epic, Open Range starts patiently and solidly, but ends up rushing through its climax; the romance, such as it is, takes it in the teeth, and what was meant to be big and important is instead messy and clumsy. Which is too bad, because it has one of the best shootouts in years. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)

Passionada
This is the tripiest tripe in Tripetown: Passionada leans very hard on the narrative and visual language of sitcoms--the reaction shot, the meaningful look--all woven into Three's Company-style hijinks, and a neat tie-up at the end (even Grandma gets a boyfriend). Even the dialogue seems cribbed from TV: "I don't know who you are anymore!" and "For once in your life fight for something!" (EMILY HALL)

Pirates of the Caribbean
Watching Pirates of the Caribbean, I realized how supremely disappointing it is that in the 108 years since the Lumière brothers first fumbled with their primitive cinematograph, we are only just now being given a zombie pirate movie. And even if the film's story is fairly irrelevant (a quick summation: cursed pirate ship, kidnapped maiden, much swordplay), the action is solid, the CGI intricate, and the writing adequate--and what more could you want from a summer blockbuster, especially when Johnny Depp is such a sight to behold in the film? (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)

Rugrats Go Wild
Why does it feel like they're not even trying anymore? Why do all American animated features have to be musicals? Why is this film's biggest selling point that it marks Bruce Willis' triumphant return to voice-over? Why indeed, my friend. Why indeed. (ZAC PENNINGTON)

S.W.A.T.
Samuel L. Jackson plays an angry black man in a uniform ("Um... Mr. Jackson? Can I get you some coffee or something?") opposite Colin Farrell in a film about the efforts of a Los Angeles-based S.W.A.T. team to ensure that a drug kingpin doesn't escape police custody.

Seabiscuit
Based on the best-selling book of the same name, Seabiscuit chronicles the true story of an unmanageable horse (Seabiscuit), an outcast trainer (Chris Cooper), and a scruffy jockey (Tobey Maguire) who all come together thanks to a rich businessman with a big heart (Jeff Bridges) and go from the under-horse, to big winner. Set in the Depression, the tale of the rise, fall, and second coming of these characters is interesting enough, except that the whole thing gets bogged down under these really hokey pretenses, where Bridges and Cooper are given lines about not throwing a life away just 'cause it's a little damaged, or that a horse that doesn't give up racing just because he's too small is a good lesson for all the underfed families suffering from the Depression's fallout. Maybe I'm too cynical for Triumphant Lessons like this, but I like a little more grit under the nails of my Hollywood movies, and the manicured emotions in Seabiscuit are a bit too Hallmark for me, even if they are based on a true story. (JENNIFER MAERZ)

Secret Lives of Dentists
The Secret Lives of Dentists, Alan Rudolph's latest, is a failure of a film. Worse, it is an inconsequential failure, barely alive enough to register while you watch it. Starring Campbell Scott, Hope Davis, and Denis Leary, it attempts to be a high-minded contemplation of matrimony, damaged mental states, and cowardice, but instead ends up being a combo of Fight Club and Thirtysomething, and the result can be summed up in a single word: ouch. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)

Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas
Tyler Durden, some gay-ass prince, and the chick from the T-Mobil commercials with the speech impediment run into big birds and big fish and big goddesses and after a whole lot of swinging and flying through the air, all ends well. In conclusion: It's dumb. No one over 10 years old ever needs to see a DreamWorks animated film. Pixar is totally cooler. And Bradley Steinbacher can suck it for sending me to this film. (MEGAN SELING)

Spellbound
Jeffrey Blitz's amazing documentary Spellbound chronicles eight near-teens as they compete in the National Spelling Bee. At least, that's the film's obvious premise; the less obvious one, what the documentary really is, is a love letter to America. National pride via a national bee. And there is much pride to be found. The film's subjects come from happy homes, and each is driven to take the national title; their love of words, and an eagerness to succeed, fuels the long hours of rote memorization they endure. Their parents may have money, or not, but one thing is readily apparent: The kids are bound for successful careers and lives. They are the American dream, on stage, trying to remember how to spell "logorrhea." (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)

Spy Kids 3D
The third installment of Robert Rodriguez's kiddie franchise rests firmly in two dimensions for the bulk of its duration. Set in the framework of a video game, SK3-D features the squandered genius of Alan Cumming, Steve Buscemi, Mike Judge, Ricardo Montalban, and George Clooney, some embarrassing work by Salma Hayek and villain Sly Stallone, and the uncomfortable attempts of a sexy, sexy 11-year-old Courtney Jines (I mean, what the fuck?) to project her desperate interpretation of allure. With shots that stand to age as well as Jaws 3-D, the real tragedy here is that the children of America live in a world where this sort of tripe stands as a pale approximation of the majesty that was Captain EO. (ZAC PENNINGTON)

Step Into Liquid
See review this issue. TK

The Swimming Pool
François Ozon's latest tribute to the sexy superiority of French women. Starring Charlotte Rampling and Ludivine Sagnier.

Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines
After a late-'90s dance around the rim of the cinematic dustbin, Arnold Schwarzenegger is reprising his most famous role as the T-101, this time taking on the beautiful and dreaded T-X. It has been 83 years since the passing of the 19th Amendment, and now, finally, women are able to claim victory in the battle for equality. They have their own ultimate killing machine. Unfortunately, the film is not victorious in the least. (BRADLEY STEINBACHER)

Uptown Girls
After seeing Uptown Girls, I am convinced that one of the funniest things in the whole entire world is watching an adorable eight-year-old girl look Brittany Murphy straight in the face and ask, "Are you on crack?" It's funny 'cause it's true; Miss Murphy has never looked more like an overdose victim in high heels than she does in this movie--during some scenes I swear her skin was blue. (MEGAN SELING)

* Whale Rider
Audiences at Toronto and Sundance loved this film and so will you if you like triumphant tales of charismatic youngsters who defy the stoic immobility of old-fashioned patriarchs. I like it because it captures traditional Maori ceremonies and songs on film while also showing that New Zealand is not just a backdrop for the Lord of the Rings trilogy. (Shannon Gee)



The Winged Migration
Following geese, cranes, swans, puffins, penguins, pelicans, and gulls, the makers of the insect documentary Microcosmos spent four years capturing impossible images of birds, via a bevy of methods and a gaggle of cinematographers, for Winged Migration, a documentary that is as much about the wonders of flight as the migration of birds.

* X2: X-Men United
The screenplay, by Michael Dougherty and Daniel Harris, is great; it would have been disastrous for the filmmakers not to rely on it. Forgoing excessive sweaty violence for richly imaginative narrative, X2's world is brought to life even more spectacularly than the first X-Men film, with very human elements of persecution, morality, and acceptance. (JULIANNE SHEPHERD)