dir. Ferzan Ozpetek

Opens Fri Dec 27 at the Varsity.I have to admit, I avoided Turkish expat director Ferzan Ozpetek's first film Steam: The Turkish Bath on title alone. The preview was angled in such a way as to make it look like a gay film--and although I am gay, I avoid my people's movies at all costs (that will include Chicago, thank you). I did my time for my crime 10 years ago, seeing every crappy fagodrama that flickered on a screen. Then I wised up. Or I just got tired.

Still, I went to His Secret Life with an open mind. I have been surprised by films with gay content (like Wild Reeds and Wong Kar-Wai's Happy Together). If the characters are allowed to have real lives separate from being gay, and the plots are more than a "lesson," I can love it. Unfortunately, this is not the case with His Secret Life.

Antonia's husband, Massimo, is killed in a car accident, and she discovers his secret life through an inscription on the back of a painting titled Fate Ignoranti, which means "ignorant fairy." Antonia eventually befriends his lover Michele (that's a dude's name in Italy, dude). She realizes Massimo was involved in a whole other world, and slowly becomes part of that world. This film has the best intentions, but that doesn't make for engaging viewing. His Secret Life feels like a Lifetime channel movie, if Lifetime did subtitles and gay three-ways (now you'll go see it). NATE LIPPENS

Scumrock

dir. Jon Moritsugu

Fri Dec 27 at the Little Theater.The slash-and-burn landscape of the "punk aesthetic," that of the most readily definable Sex Pistols/Dead Boys/Germs variety, is one frequently adopted in nonmusical art forms, from visual art to theater, fashion to literature. The word "punk"--welling with emotional immediacy, with impulse trumping artistic professionalism--is an alluring adjective for artists, a celebration of id over ego that so much art labors to verbalize. Unfortunately, the torch-bearing majority of these nonmusical punk art forms fail to hold a candle to their audio lineage. For better or worse, the immediacy of punk rock is difficult to translate into labor-intensive crafts like literature and filmmaking.

Scumrock, the latest by cult "punk filmmaker" Jon Moritsugu (Der Elvis, Mod Fuck Explosion), adheres to the predictable self-indulgence of most self-consciously DIY cinema--satirical, meandering story line, non sequitur tangents, scenes caulked together with gratuitous sequences of blaring soundtrack, etc.--charting all of the reference points, but without any of the passion. The plot, a sardonic meditation on the frustrations of artistic creation, follows two aging San Francisco hipsters (a filmmaker and a musician) struggling to prove themselves as artists before reaching their 30s. Despite a handful of captivating characters, a surprisingly absorbing story, and a brilliant soundtrack (with contributions from the likes of Casiotone for the Painfully Alone and the Gossip), Scumrock is an ultimately forgettable wash of slapdash imagery and theme. Haste in place of spirit, aesthetic in place of substance. ZAC PENNINGTON

Talk to Her

dir. Pedro Almodovar

Now playing at the Egyptian.Talk to Her, Spain's camp bad boy Pedro Almodovar's latest film, contains no drugs or sex, and I didn't even notice until it was over. That's because Almodovar has always trafficked in extreme emotions and the actions that spring from them. Actions and craziness often overshadow feelings in his earlier films--but with Talk to Her, Almodovar gives us the most mature and deeply felt of his movies.

Not that there isn't plenty of shiny surface and beautifully modulated melodrama in Talk to Her--it's just less a product of a love of Fassbinder and Douglas Sirk, and more of a meditation on love and loyalty. It tells the story of two comatose women (one a female bullfighter and the other a ballerina), the two men who care for them (Benigno, a male nurse, and Marco, a writer), and the friendships that grow between them. The two men deal differently with their sleeping beauties: Marco retreats into silence and Benigno, who cared for his mother before becoming a nurse, talks and carries on as if Alicia were awake and responsive. The movie unfolds with grace and still manages to shock while being funny, strange, morally complex, and moving. NATE LIPPENS

L'Avventura

dir. Michelangelo Antonioni

Opens Thurs Dec 26 at the Grand Illusion.Anna (Lea Massari) is a self-possessed young woman who hasn't seen her boyfriend Sandro (Gabriele Ferzetti) for a month. As anyone who's ever been in a long-distance relationship knows, sometimes that distance is hard to shake. She's grown used to being alone, and as much as she'd like to reconnect with Sandro, she cannot; but that doesn't stop her and her good friend Claudia (Monica Vitti) from joining Sandro and his friends on a boat trip. As it turns out, nobody on the boat really communicates with each other.

Michelangelo Antonioni infuses L'Avventura with a longing for contact, and the inability to sustain a connection. If you know anything about this film, you know that Anna disappears about 30 minutes in. She gets pulled so far into her loneliness, her alienation, into her self, that she has no more need to be present in the story. But she continues to haunt the film. Claudia becomes a sort of double of Anna, and she and Sandro start to fall in love--but can they overcome the gulf that drove him and Anna apart? It's all in how you interpret the very last shot. What is not up for debate is the gorgeous cinematography, the impeccable direction, or the timeless themes that make for a masterpiece of Italian cinema. ANDY SPLETZER