Arts & Culture

Film listings are edited by Cheryl Eddy. Reviewers are Kimberly Chun, Michelle Devereaux, Max Goldberg, Dennis Harvey, Johnny Ray Huston, Louis Peitzman, Lynn Rapoport, Ben Richardson, and Matt Sussman. For rep house showtimes, see Rep Clock. For first-run showtimes, see Movie Guide.

OPENING

Eat Pray Love Julia Roberts has a midlife crisis. (2:30) Cerrito, Elmwood, Marina.

The Expendables Sylvester Stallone directs and stars (along with just about every other action hero, ever) in this mercenaries-in-the-jungle-with-big-guns adventure. (1:43)

The Extra Man The polar opposite of buddy cop action flicks and spoofs a la The Other Guys, with only a faint resemblance to the bromances of Judd Apatow, Adam McKay, Will Ferrell, Seth Rogen, and so on, The Extra Man is a gently weird throwback to another era, much like its title character, Henry Harrison (Kevin Kline). Sweet, cross-dressing-curious teacher and would-be writer Louis Ives (Paul Dano) is drifting though life passively when he stumbles on eccentric playwright Harrison’s room-for-let and his oddball realm of hangers-on. A blustery, prickly, proudly misogynistic collector of Christmas balls, given to spasms of improvisational dancing, Harrison relishes his role as an escort to aged socialites, crankily shucking and jiving to score invites to fancy dinner parties and vacation homes in Florida. When Ives isn’t courting environmental magazine editor Mary (Katie Holmes) or hiding from the fearsome-looking wooly recluse Gershon (John C. Reilly), the mentor-able young man turns out to be more adept at the role than Harrison ever imagined. And like fossilized grande dames in Chanel, literate audiences also might be charmed by director-writer Shari Springer Berman’s unassuming, crushed-out bon mot, based on the novel by Jonathan Ames, to a few mannered, less-than-examined, happily twisted New York City subcultures. (1:45) Elmwood, Embarcadero. (Chun)

Harimaya Bridge The Harimaya Bridge might be the first film I’ve seen that portrays the American-Japanese culture clash so beloved by stateside filmmakers (see: 2003’s Lost in Translation) from the viewpoint of an African American man in Japan. The debut feature for short-film director Aaron Woolfolk, Bridge follows a retired man who travels to Japan after the death of his estranged son, with intentions to retrieve his son’s paintings for an art show. Likely based on Woolfolk’s personal experiences living in Japan, The Harimaya Bridge has both the look and feel of a short, an attribute that makes the otherwise agreeable film seem much too long and drawn-out. Or maybe, all along Woolfolk intended to replicate the dour melodrama and often glacial pacing of popular Japanese film. Meta-filmmaking? (2:00) Presidio. (Peter Galvin)

Lourdes Jessica Hausner’s Lourdes is a film about the people who things happen to rather than the things that happen to people. This is one of its merits yet also its greatest handicap because, really, not much does happen. Wheelchair-bound Christine (Sylvie Testud) makes the pilgrimage to the titular site of Catholic healing in the Pyrenees. When a miracle occurs and Christine walks, the other, less-enlightened denizens of Lourdes lampoon her, and God, for her inexplicable recovery. Hausner limns every scene with exaggerated blues, reds, and whites while relying on long takes and a certain clinical distance from the characters. The film’s atmosphere recalls Julian Schnabel’s The Diving Bell and the Butterfly (2007) but since Christine, unlike Jean-Dominique in that film, can speak and move, she doesn’t need to rely on her imagination to make sense of the world, and that would’ve been nice. Testud is subtle and sweet, but personality falls short here. Maybe it went out with her character’s legs. (1:39) Roxie. (Ryan Lattanzio)

Patrik Age 1.5 Freshly settled in suburbia, gay couple Goran (Gustaf Skarsgard) and Sven (Torkel Petersson) are eager to adopt a child — or at least Goran is, with Sven reluctantly caving in. But when against the odds they’re informed a native-born boy is available, a misplaced bit of bureaucratic punctuation means they get not the 18-month-old toddler expected but 15-year-old Patrik (Tom Ljungman). He’s a foul-tempered foster home veteran who makes it clear he’s no happier cohabiting with two “homos” than they are with him. Nevertheless, they’re stuck with each other at least through the weekend, allowing a predictable mutual warming trend to course through Ella Lemhagen’s agreeable seriocomedy. While formulaic in concept, the film’s low-key charm and conviction earn emotions that might easily have felt sitcomishly pre-programmed. (1:38) Lumiere, Shattuck. (Harvey)

Peepli Live Bollywood superstar Aamir Khan uses his powers for good in producing Peepli Live, Anusha Rizvi’s occasionally funny but also sobering satire. Poor and possibly a bit simple-minded, farmer Natha (Omkar Das Manikpuri) declares he’ll commit suicide after learning his family will receive enough benefits to save their land if he offs himself. He’s encouraged by his unmarried brother, received with skepticism by his exasperated wife, and harangued (as he clearly has been his entire life) by his sharp-tongued, bedridden mother. Once the media gets wind of Natha’s decision, he becomes a cause célèbre; ambitious reporters descend on Peepli, his tiny village, hoping to launch or further their careers with exclusive scoops (including one camera crew who proudly shares an exclusive close-up of Natha’s bowel movements). The bewildered man also becomes a political pawn among government muckety-mucks, who eagerly use him as leverage in a fast-approaching election. Though obviously an exaggeration, Peepli Live is grounded by the fact that India has had a real-life epidemic of farmer suicides. Stirring original music (though the film is not a musical) and an unpretentious filming style help Peelpli Live convey pressing themes of class and economics without slipping into preachiness. (1:46) Balboa. (Eddy)

The Oxford Murders One doesn’t need the deductive skills of Sherlock Holmes to see that things don’t quite add up in The Oxford Murders, cult Spanish director Álex de la Iglesia’s surprisingly stuffy adaptation of Guillermo Martinez’s 2003 murder mystery of the same name. Martin (Elijah Wood), an American graduate student, arrives at Oxford with the hopes of studying with the famous and prickly Wittgenstein scholar Arthur Seldom (John Hurt). After Seldom drubs Martin in a post-lecture Q&A, both men simultaneously come upon the corpse of Martin’s elderly landlady, a discovery appended by a cryptic note that reads, “the first of the series.” What follows is both a philosophical and criminal investigation as professor and student seek to prevent the next murders by determining whether the killer is a master domino layer or just a bookish nut-job. Iglesia has built his following on flash, and aside from one impressive tracking shot cribbed from 1958’s Touch of Evil and a few grisly air kisses to 1995’s Se7en, he yields far too much screen time to Seldom and Martin’s tendentious Philosophy 101 sparring matches. Although certainly more clever than your average Dan Brown whodunit, The Oxford Murders is no less ludicrous (or entertaining for that matter) for kitting out the bones of a CSI episode in the upper-crust finery of a university don. (1:50) Opera Plaza. (Sussman)

*Scott Pilgrim vs. The World See “Geek Love.” (1:52) California, Four Star, Presidio.

Tales from Earthsea Goro Miyazaki (son of Hayao) directs this animated, environmentally-themed fantasy. (1:55)

Vengeance See “Triad Quartet.” (1:48) Sundance Kabuki.

ONGOING

Agora There’s a good movie somewhere in Agora, but finding it would require severe editing. It’s not that the film is too long, though it does drag in stretches. The problem is that there are too many stories being told: Hypatia of Alexandria, the central figure, only emerges as the focus well into the film. Meanwhile, there’s Davus (Max Minghella), the slave boy in love with her; Orestes (Oscar Isaac), the student who tries to win her affection; Synesius (Rupert Evans), the devout Christian. We jump from character to character and plot to plot — the conflict between the pagans and the Christians, the conflict between the Christians and the Jews, and Hypatia’s studies in astronomy. Agora is so scattered that by the time it reaches its tragic conclusion — only a spoiler if you haven’t already Googled Hypatia — there’s little room to breathe, let alone grieve. While Hypatia herself is a fascinating subject, Agora is weighed down by all the stories it’s intent on cramming in. (2:06) Opera Plaza, Shattuck. (Peitzman)

*Alamar Pedro González-Rubio’s gorgeous Alamar (“to the sea”) is set between landscapes (land and sea) and ways of telling (fiction and documentary). The bare frame of a plot places a young boy with his father and grandfather, Mayan fishermen working the Mexican Caribbean. The sweetness of this idyll is tempered by its provisional bounds: the boy will return to his mother in Rome at the end of his compressed experience of a father’s love. Every shot is earned: there are several in which the camera bucks with the boat, physically linked to the actors’ experience. The child is at an age of discovery, and González-Rubio channels this openness by fixing on the details of the fisher’s elegant way of life and the environmental contingencies of their home at sea. (1:13) Sundance Kabuki. (Goldberg)

*Anton Chekhov’s The Duel Conformity vs. freedom, small-town whispers vs. the heavy hand of the law — Georgian director Dover Kosashvili successfully teases out some of the tensions in the Anton Chekhov novella, encapsulating the provincial pressures brought to bear on deviants and nonconformists during a steamy summer in a seaside resort town in the Caucasus. Dissolute civil servant and would-be intellectual Laevsky (Andrew Scott) is in the bind, as he gripes to the town doctor Samoylenko (Niall Buggy). Laevsky has everything he wants: he’s coaxed the creamy, married Nadya (Fiona Glascott) into living with him openly, yet now that her husband has died, he desires nothing more than to be free of her. In the meantime upstanding zoologist Von Koren (Tobias Menzies) simmers in the background, gaging Laevsky’s social mores and practically oozing contempt. Matters come to a head as Laevsky begs a loan from Samoylenko to escape his ripening paramour, who is also beginning to feel the gracious perimeters of the town closing in around her. From the buttons-and-bows millinery details to the oppressive dark wood furnishings, Kosashvili even-handedly builds a compelling Victorian-era mise en scene that seems to perfectly evoke the Chekhov’s milieu — it’s only when the title entanglement comes to pass that we finally see which side he’s on. (1:35) Smith Rafael. (Chun)

Cats and Dogs: The Revenge of Kitty Galore (1:40) 1000 Van Ness, SF Center.

Charlie St. Cloud The best thing one can say about Charlie St. Cloud is that it isn’t quite as terrible as the trailers would have you believe. Yes, the story is Nicholas Sparks-level silly: the eponymous Charlie (Zac Efron) loses his brother Sam (Charlie Tahan) in a tragic drunk driving accident, then spends the rest of the film playing baseball with his ghost. Add to that a romantic subplot involving fellow sailor Tess (Amanda Crew). There’s nothing you don’t already know about Charlie St. Cloud: each scene is laid out far in advance. So while the film itself is reasonably competent, it never surprises or unnerves an audience well-versed in its tropes. Efron, star of Disney’s delightful High School Musical series, is predictably charming, but even a few wet t-shirt scenes — yes, really — don’t distract from the story. Not to mention the fact that Tahan’s Sam is seriously grating. You’re dead, it sucks: no need to whine about it. (1:40) 1000 Van Ness. (Peitzman)

The Concert (1:47) Embarcadero.

Cyrus It’s tempting to label Mark and Jay Duplass’ Cyrus as “mumblecore goes mainstream.” Yes, the mumblecore elements are all there: plentiful moments of awkward humiliation, characters fumbling verbally and sometimes physically in desperate attempts to establish emotional connections, and a meandering, character-driven plot, in the sense that the characters themselves possess precious little drive. The addition of bona fide indie movie stars John C. Reilly, Catherine Keener, and Marisa Tomei — not to mention Hollywood’s chubby-funny guy du jour, Jonah Hill — could lead some to believe that the DIY-loving Duplass brothers (2005’s The Puffy Chair, 2008’s Baghead) have gone from slacker disciples of John Cassavetes (informally known as “Slackavetes”) to worshippers at the slickly profane (with a heart) altar of Judd Apatow. But despite the presence of Apatow protégé Hill (2007’s Superbad) in the title role, Cyrus steers clear of crowd-pleasing bombast, instead favoring small, relatively naturalistic moments. That is to say, not much actually happens. Mumblecore? More or less. Mainstream? Not exactly. Despite playing a character with some serious psychological issues, Hill comes off as likeable. Unfortunately the movie is neither as broadly comic nor as emotionally poignant as it needs to be — the two opposing forces seem to cancel each other out like acids and bases. (1:32) Shattuck, Sundance Kabuki. (Devereaux)

Despicable Me Judging from the adorable, booty-shaking, highly merchandisable charm of its sunny-yellow Percocet-like minions, Despicable Me‘s makers have more than a few fond memories of the California Raisins. That gives you an idea of the 30-second attention-span level at work here. Thanks to Pixar and company, our expectations for animated features are high, but despite the single lob at Lehman Brothers aimed toward the grown-ups, the humor here is pitched straight at the eight and younger crowd: from the mugging, child-like minions to the all-in-good-fun, slightly quease-inducing 3-D roller-coaster ride. Gru (Steve Carell) is Despicable‘s also-ran supervillain — a bit too old and too unoriginal for a game that’s been rigged in the favor of the youthful, annoyingly perky Vector (Jason Segel), who’s managed to swipe the Giza Pyramids and become the world’s number one bad dude. When Vector steals away the crucial shrink ray needed for Gru’s plot to thieve the moon, the latter pulls out the big guns: three adorable orphans who have managed to penetrate Vector’s defenses with their fund-raising cookie sales. It turns out kids have their own insidiously heart-warming way of wrecking havoc on one’s well-laid plans. Filmmakers Pierre Coffin and Chris Renaud do their best to exploit the 3-D medium, but Avatar (2009) this is not. Nor will many adults be able to withstand the onslaught of cute undertaken by all those raisins, I mean, minions. (1:35) 1000 Van Ness, SF Center. (Chun)

Dinner for Schmucks When he attracts favorable notice and a possible promotion from his corporate boss, Tim (Paul Rudd) is invited to an annual affair in which executives compete to see who can dig up the freakiest loser dweeb for everyone to snicker at. He literally runs into the perfect candidate: Barry (Steve Carrell), an IRS employee whose hobby is making elaborate tableaux with stuffed dead nice in tiny human clothes. He’s also the sort of person who, in trying to be helpful, inevitably wreaks havoc on the unlucky person being helped. Which means the 24 hours or so before the “Biggest Idiot” contest provide plenty of time for well-intentioned Barry to nearly destroy Tim’s relationship with a girlfriend (Stephanie Szostak), reunite him with Crazy Stalker Chick (Lucy Punch), and imperil his wooing of a multimillion-dollar account. Director Jay Roach (of the Austin Powers and Meet the Fockers series) has a full load of comedy talent on board here. So why are the results so tepid? This remake softens the bite of Francis Veber’s 1998 original French The Dinner Game by making Tim not a yuppie scumbag but a nice guy who just happens to have a jerk’s job (his company seizes ailing firms and liquidates them), and who doesn’t really want to expose hapless Barry to humiliation. But even with that satirical angle removed and a wider streak of sentimentality, it should cough up more laughs than it does. (1:50) Four Star, 1000 Van Ness, Presidio, SF Center. (Harvey)

*The Disappearance of Alice Creed The reliably alarming Eddie Marsen (concurrently Life During Wartime‘s pederast) plays bullying Vic, one-half of a criminal duo — with puppyish Danny (Martin Compston) his younger subordinate — who abduct grown child of wealth Alice (Gemma Arterton) for ransom in a carefully-thought-out kidnapping. This simple setup, for the most part very simply set in the two abandoned-apartment-complex rooms where Alice is held captive, allows talented British writer-director J. Blakeson to spring a number of escalating narrative surprises. The whole endeavor is almost too chamber-scaled to justify being seen on the big screen (let alone being shot in widescreen format). But it does have some mighty satisfying tricks up its sleeve. (1:40) Sundance Kabuki. (Harvey)

Farewell (1:53) Lumiere, Shattuck.

Get Low Born from the true story of Felix Bush, an eccentric Tennessee hermit who invited the world to celebrate his funeral in advance of his own death, Get Low is a loose take on what might inspire a man to do a thing like that. It’s a small story, and unlikely to attract the attention of popcorn-addled viewers in the midst of the summer blockbuster season, but Get Low has a whopper of a character in Felix Bush. Robert Duvall becomes Bush, constructing a quiet man who sees it all and speaks only when he has something to say, and supporting roles from Sissy Spacek and Bill Murray are expectedly solid, but the real surprise is what a strong eye director Aaron Schnieder has. In allowing scenes to unfold on their own terms and in their own time, Schneider gives a real humanity to what could have been a Hallmark movie. (1:42) Albany, Embarcadero, Piedmont. (Galvin)

*The Girl Who Played With Fire Lisbeth Salander is cooler than you are. The heroine of Stieg Larsson’s bestselling book series is fierce, mysterious, and utterly captivating: in the movie adaptations, she’s perfectly realized by Noomi Rapace, who has the power to transform Lisbeth from literary hero to film icon. Rapace first impressed audiences in The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (2009), a faithful adaptation of Larsson’s premiere novel, and she returns as Lisbeth in The Girl Who Played With Fire. The sequel, as is often the case, isn’t quite on par with the original, but it’s still a page-to-screen success. And while the first film spent equal time on journalist Mikael Blomkvist (Michael Nyqvist), The Girl Who Played With Fire is almost entirely Lisbeth’s story. Sure, there’s more to the movie than the hacker-turned-sleuth — and the actor who plays her — but she carries the film. Rapace is Lisbeth; Lisbeth is Rapace. I’d watch both in anything. (2:09) Albany, Embarcadero, Piedmont, Smith Rafael. (Peitzman)

*The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo By the time the first of Stieg Larsson’s so-called “Millennium” books had been published anywhere, the series already had an unhappy ending: he died (in 2004). The following year, The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo became a Swedish, then eventually international sensation, its sequels following suit. The books are addicting, to say the least; despite their essential crime-mystery-thriller nature, they don’t require putting your ear for writing of some literary value on sleep mode. Now the first of three adaptive features shot back-to-back has reached U.S. screens. (Sorry to say, yes, a Hollywood remake is already in the works — but let’s hope that’s years away.) Even at two-and-a-half hours, this Girl With the Dragon Tattoo by necessity must do some major truncating to pack in the essentials of a very long, very plotty novel. Still, all but the nitpickingest fans will be fairly satisfied, while virgins will have the benefit of not knowing what’s going to happen and getting scared accordingly. Soon facing jail after losing a libel suit brought against him by a shady corporate tycoon, leftie journalist Mikael Blomkvist (Michael Nyqvist) gets a curious private offer to probe the disappearance 40 years earlier of a teenage girl. This entangles him with an eccentric wealthy family and their many closet skeletons (including Nazi sympathies) — as well as dragon-tattooed Lisbeth Salander (Noomi Rapace), androgynous loner, 24-year-old court ward, investigative researcher, and skillful hacker. Director Niels Arden Oplev and his scenarists do a workmanlike job — one more organizational than interpretive, a faithful transcription without much style or personality all its own. Nonetheless, Larsson’s narrative engine kicks in early and hauls you right along to the depot. (2:32) Shattuck, Smith Rafael. (Harvey)

*I Am Love I Am Love opens in a chilly, Christmastime Milan and deliberately warms in tandem with its characters. Members of the blue-blood Recchi family are content hosting lavish parties and gossiping about one another, none more than the matriarch Emma (Tilda Swinton). But when prodigal son Edoardo befriends a local chef, Emma finds herself taken by both the chef’s food and his everyman personality, and is reminded of her poor Soviet upbringing. The courtship that follows is familiar on paper, but director Luca Guadagnino lenses with a strong style and small scenes acquire a distinct energy through careful editing and John Adams’ unpredictable score. Swinton portrays Emma’s unraveling with the same gritty gusto she brought to Julia (2008), and her commitment to the role recognizes few boundaries. You’ve probably seen this story before, but it has rarely been this powerful. (2:00) Opera Plaza, Shattuck. (Galvin)

Inception As my movie going companion pointed out, “Christopher Nolan must’ve shit a brick when he saw Shutter Island.” In Nolan’s Inception, as in Shutter Island, Leonardo DiCaprio is a troubled soul trapped in a world of mind-fuckery, with a tragic-vengeful wife (here, Marion Cotillard) and even some long-lost kids looming in his thoughts at all times. But Inception, about a team of corporate spies who infiltrate dreams to steal information and implant ideas, owes just as much to The Matrix (1999), Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004), and probably a James Bond flick or two. Familiar though it may feel, at least Inception is based on a creative idea — how many movies, much less summer blockbusters, actually require viewer brain power? If its complex house-of-cards plot (dreams within dreams within dreams) can’t quite withstand nit-picking, its action sequences are confidently staged and expertly directed, including a standout sequence involving a zero-gravity fist fight and elevator ride. Though it’s hardly genius — and Leo-recycle aside — Inception is worth it, if you don’t mind your puzzle missing a few pieces. (2:30) Empire, Marina, 1000 Van Ness, Sundance Kabuki. (Eddy)

*Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work Whether you’re a fan of its subject or not, Ricki Stern and Annie Sundberg’s documentary is an absorbing look at the business of entertainment, a demanding treadmill that fame doesn’t really make any easier. At 75, comedian Rivers has four decades in the spotlight behind her. Yet despite a high Q rating she finds it difficult to get the top-ranked gigs, no matter that as a workaholic who’ll take anything she could scarcely be more available. Funny onstage (and a lot ruder than on TV), she’s very, very focused off-, dismissive of being called a “trailblazer” when she’s still actively competing with those whose women comics trail she blazed for today’s hot TV guest spot or whatever. Anyone seeking a thorough career overview will have to look elsewhere; this vérité year-in-the-life portrait is, like the lady herself, entertainingly and quite fiercely focused on the here-and-now. (1:24) Empire, Opera Plaza, Smith Rafael. (Harvey)

*The Kids Are All Right In many ways, The Kids Are All Right is a straightforward family dramedy: it’s about parents trying to do what’s best for their children and struggling to keep their relationship together. But it’s also a film in which Jules (Julianne Moore) goes down on Nic (Annette Bening) while they’re watching gay porn. Director Lisa Cholodenko (1998’s High Art) co-wrote the script (with Stuart Blumberg), and the film’s blend between mainstream and queer is part of what makes Kids such an important — not to mention enjoyable — film. Despite presenting issues that might be contentious to large portions of the country, the movie maintains an approachability that’s often lacking in queer cinema. Of course, being in the gay mecca of the Bay Area skews things significantly — most locals wouldn’t bat an eye at Kids, which has Nic and Jules’ children inviting their biological father (“the sperm donor,” played by Mark Ruffalo) into their lives. But for those outside the liberal bubble, the idea of a nontraditional family might be more eye-opening. It’s not a message movie, but Kids may still change minds. And even if it doesn’t, the film is a success that works chiefly because it isn’t heavy-handed. It refuses to take itself too seriously. At its best, Kids is laugh-out-loud funny, handling the heaviest of issues with grace and humor. (1:47) Bridge, California, Cerrito, 1000 Van Ness, Piedmont, SF Center. (Peitzman)

*Let It Rain Well-known feminist author Agathe Villanova (writer-director Agnès Jaoui) is taking a rare break from her busy Paris life, visiting her hometown to see family, vacation with boyfriend Antoine (Frédéric Pierrot), and do a little stumping for her nascent political career. But despite the ever-picturesque French countryside as background, all is not harmonious. Antoine complains Agathe’s workaholism (among other things) is killing their relationship, particularly once she agrees to be time-consumingly interviewed for film about “successful women” by shambling documentarian Michel (coscenarist Jean-Pierre Bacri) and local Karim (Jamel Debbouze). Her married-with-children sister Florence (Pascale Arbillot) is having a secret affair with Michel, but seems more focused on old resentments springing from Agathe being their late mother’s favorite. Karim — son of the family’s longtime housekeeper (Mimouna Hadji) — bears his own grudge against the clan and brusque, officious Agathe in particular. Being happily wed, he’s further bothered at his hotel day job by his attraction to co-worker Aurélie (Florence Loiret-Caille). These various conflicts simmer, then boil over as the documentary shooting goes from bumbling to disastrous. In 2004, Jaoui delivered a pretty near perfect Gallic ensemble seriocomedy in Look at Me. This isn’t quite that good. Still, her seemingly effortless skill at managing complex character dynamics, eliciting expert performances (including her own), and weaving it all together with insouciant panache makes this a real pleasure. The problem with Agnès Jaoui: she’s so good it chafes that (acting-only gigs aside) she’s made just three films in ten years. Pick it up, girl! (1:39) Elmwood, Smith Rafael. (Harvey)

*Life During Wartime The Kids Are Alright isn’t the only film this summer that subtly skewers the suburban upper-middle class by following a seemingly well-adjusted family as they’re thrown into crisis when a shadowy father figure attempts to enter their orbit. Only in the case of Todd Solondz’s Life During Wartime, instead of a sperm donor, Dad is a convicted child molester. A quasi-sequel to 1998’s Happiness, Life picks up 10 years later to survey the still-damaged Jordan sisters. After discovering that her husband Allen (Michael Kenneth Williams) is still making sexually harassing phone calls, mousy Joy (squeaky-voiced British actress Shirley Henderson) flees to Florida, where her older sister Trish (Allison Janney) has attempted to start a new life for herself and her children. Oldest Billy (Chris Marquette) is now a bitter college student, and youngest son Timmy (Dylan Riley Snyder) still doesn’t know the horrible truth about his father Bill (Ciarán Hinds), who has just been released from prison. Third sister Helen (Ally Sheedy), has had success in Hollywood, but still feels victimized by her family. Despite the entirely new cast, happiness remains just as elusive as before. Pleasure, when it can be found, is fleeting. Characters’ awkward conversations with each other inevitably sputter and stall, and even the best intentions are no measure against disaster. Solondz may be a scathing observer, but he is not above being sympathetic when its called for. Neither does he gloss over the serious questions — what are the limits of forgiveness? When is forgetting necessary? (1:37) Clay, Shattuck. (Sussman)

Making Plans for Lena Christophe Honoré’s latest presents an ensemble of difficult characters related to or entangled with a recently divorced mother of two. The titular Lena (Chiara Mastroianni) feels somewhat like a Noah Baumbach protagonist, a failing human being who is nonetheless pitiable and even relatable. At the core of this tense family drama are Lena’s relationships with her young son Anton (Donatien Suner), who is in many ways more mature than she is, and with her ex-husband Nigel (Jean-Marc Barr), whose name inspired the pun of the title, which refers to the XTC track “Making Plans for Nigel.” In the film’s most intriguing sequence, bookworm Anton reads his mother a story, which is in turn reproduced onscreen, of a woman who kills many suitors by dancing them to death. Besides that fantastical interlude, which hardly lightens the movie’s fundamental sadness, the film’s naturalistic depiction of family life rings true if also worryingly dissonant. (1:47) Sundance Kabuki. (Sam Stander)

Middle Men George Gallo’s Middle Men, though far beyond the salvage of so-bad-it’s-good, makes for the ultimate airplane movie (re: mind-numbing). Nothing audible is ever interesting, there are visual gimmicks galore, and you can more or less doze off and avoid missing much. Purportedly the events that unfold, from the 80s onward, are based on actual ones — but that’s like the Coen Brothers claiming Fargo (1996) was a true story. Pish posh. Jack (Luke Wilson) is a Texan who cleans up people’s messes. He gets entangled with the biggest idiots of all time, played by Giovanni Ribisi and Gabriel Macht, and soon they launch what will become the bastion of Americana: Internet porn. Everything is tits-and-giggles until the Russian mob wants a cut. It’s downright apoplexing how shallow, flashy, and lazy this movie is. If you must go, bring a friend and play I Spy A Desperate Has-Been (James Caan, Kelsey Grammer, Kevin Pollak). And Luke Wilson, formerly known as Fire of My Loins? Definitely not cute anymore. (1:45) 1000 Van Ness, Shattuck, Sundance Kabuki. (Lattanzio)

The Other Guys Will Ferrell and Adam McKay can do no wrong in some bro-medy aficionados’ eyes, but The Other Guys is no Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby (2006) or Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy (2004). The other two Ferrell-McKay team-ups made short work of men’s jobs, in addition to genre filmmaking tropes, with crisper, cut-to-the-gag punchiness. And despite its laugh-out-loud first quarter — and some surprising TLC references by Michael Keaton, of all people, The Other Guys is about half a genuinely hilarious film that pokes fun at masculinity, as well as, interestingly, whiteness and beyond-the-pale, big-bucks white-collar crime. This lampoon of action buddy-cop flicks is dealt a semi-fatal blow when excess-loving, damage-dealing supercops Samuel Jackson and Dwayne Johnson exit, manically chewing scenery as they go. Two forgotten desktop jocks, forensic accounting investigator-with-a-past Allen (Ferrell) and ragaholic screwup Terry (Mark Wahlberg), must step it up when the dynamic duo dissipates, and go after crooked financier David Ershon (Steve Coogan). The second half of The Other Guys could have used some of the dramatic tension budding between buddy team Jackson-Johnson and reluctant cohorts Ferrell-Wahlberg, especially when Wahlberg begins to get bogged down in single-gear disbelief. But perhaps we should just be grateful for what few yuks we can glean from the atrocities of Great Recession-era robber barons. (1:47) California, 1000 Van Ness, Presidio. (Chun)

Salt Angelina Jolie channels the existential crisis of Jason Bourne and the DIY spirit of MacGyver in a film positing that America’s most pressing concern is extant Russian cold warriors, who are plotting to reestablish their country’s pre-glasnost glory via nuclear holocaust and a Dark Angel–style army of spy kids. Jolie plays CIA agent Evelyn Salt, a woman who can stymie the top-shelf surveillance system at work using her undergarments and fashion a shoulder-mounted rocket out of interrogation-room furniture and cleaning supplies. These talents surface after Salt is accused of being a Russian operative in league with the aforementioned disturbers of the new world order and takes flight, with her agency coworkers (Liev Schreiber and Chiwetel Ejiofor) in hot pursuit. What ensues is a vicious and confounding assault on the highest levels of the U.S. government, most known rules of logic, and the viewer’s patience and powers of suspending disbelief. Salt’s off-the-ranch maneuverings are moderately engaging, particularly in the first leg of the chase, but clunky expository flashbacks, B-movie-grade dialogue, and an absurd plotline slow the momentum considerably. (1:31) Empire, Sundance Kabuki. (Rapoport)

The Sorcerer’s Apprentice Socially awkward science nerd Dave (Jay Baruchel) toils away on his suspiciously elaborate NYU physics project, unaware that he’s about to have a Harry Potter-style moment of awakening. Enter Balthazar (Nicolas Cage), a centuries-old, steampunky sorcerer who believes Dave to be “the Prime Merlinian” — i.e., the greatest conjurer since Merlin himself. (Literally) rising from ashes to provide conflict are fellow sorcerers Horvath (Alfred Molina) and Morgana (Alice Krige); signing on for romantic-interest purposes are Monica Bellucci and newcomer Teresa Palmer. The Sorcerer’s Apprentice spins off Disney classic Fantasia (1940) in only the loosest sense, though there is a scene of dancing brooms. The bland Baruchel’s rise to fame continues to mystify, but at least Cage and Molina seem to be having a blast exchanging insults and zapping each other around. (1:43) SF Center. (Eddy)

Step Up 3D The third installment of the Step Up enterprise graduates performing arts high school and moves to the sidewalks, rooftops, and warehouses of New York City, as well as the occasional venue — part underground club, part ad-plastered sports arena — where packs of street dancers battle and mop up the floor with their rivals, employing only the weaponry of a fierce routine. That, and the fast-forward button in the editing suite — beyond drop kicks and droplets of water coming out of the screen at your face, Step Up 3D unabashedly adopts the choreographed F/X of contemporary action films, manipulating footage to make the dancers look like nimble, ferocious, supernatural creatures with a youthful disdain for gravity and the space-time continuum. There is a plot of sorts, involving a crew called the Pirates; their fearless leader Luke (Rick Malambri); his mysterious lady friend Natalie (Sharni Vinson); an NYU freshman named Moose (Adam Sevani of 2008’s Step Up 2: The Streets), who was, in Luke’s oft-repeated words, “born from a boombox” (or BFAB); and the warehouse wonderland where the Pirates live and train, amid a decor of tape-deck-womb walls and galleries of limited-edition sneakers. It’s best, though, not to follow along too closely on the rare occasions when director Jon Chu (Step Up 2) mistakenly lets more than four lines of earnest dialogue stack up without a dance-scene intervention. The near-continuous wave of choreographed outbursts is like eye candy injected with multiple shots of 5-Hour Energy drink, but those who flinch at the idea of Auto-Tuning dance performance may want to stay home and rent 2000’s Center Stage. (1:46) 1000 Van Ness, SF Center. (Rapoport)

*Toy Story 3 You’ve got a friend in Pixar. We all do. The animation studio just can’t seem to make a bad movie — even at its relative worst, a Pixar film is still worlds better than most of what Hollywood churns out. Luckily, Toy Story 3 is far from the worst: it’s actually one of Pixar’s most enjoyable and poignant films yet. Waiting 11 years after the release of Toy Story 2 was, in fact, a stroke of genius, in that it amplifies the nostalgia that runs through so many of the studio’s releases. The kids who were raised on Toy Story and its first sequel have now grown up, gone to college, and, presumably, abandoned their toys. For these twentysomethings, myself included, Toy Story 3 is a uniquely satisfying and heartbreaking experience. While the film itself may not be the instant classic that WALL-E (2008) was, it’s near flawless regardless of a viewer’s age. Warm, funny, and emotionally devastating—it’s Pixar as it should be. (1:49) 1000 Van Ness, Shattuck, Sundance Kabuki. (Peitzman)

The Wildest Dream: Conquest of Everest The Everest documentary has, by now, become a genre unto itself. It’s got its own tropes (sweeping shots of the mountain’s face, somber voice-over philosophizing about the human struggle with nature) and its own canon (topped, perhaps, by the harrowing 1998 IMAX hit Everest). The latest entry into this field is National Geographic Entertainment’s The Wildest Dream, which chronicles early-20th century explorer George Mallory’s lifelong — and ultimately life-ending — quest to reach Everest’s summit, and modern mountaineer Conrad Anker’s attempt to recreate his predecessor’s final climb. Director Anthony Geffen unfolds his tale in standard adventure-doc fashion. We get a lot of scratchy footage from Mallory’s climbs, a few risibly awkward dramatic re-creations, and quite a lot of portentous voiceover work. These are worn techniques, to be sure, but that doesn’t make the story told any less compelling. Mallory himself emerges as a particularly fascinating figure — a talented and charming scholar, a devoted husband, and an irresponsible, borderline suicidal obsessive. It’s a shame that we’re only able to observe him at a century’s distance. (1:33) Embarcadero. (Zach Ritter)

*Winter’s Bone Winter’s Bone has already won awards at the Berlin International Film Festival and the Sundance Film Festival, but it’s the kind of downbeat, low-key, quiet film that may elude larger audiences (and, as these things go, Oscar voters). Like Andrea Arnold’s recent Fish Tank, it tells the story of a teenage girl who draws on unlikely reserves of toughness to navigate an unstable family life amid less-than-ideal economic circumstances. And it’s also directed by a woman: Debra Granik, whose previous feature, 2004’s Down to the Bone, starred Vera Farmiga (2009’s Up in the Air) as a checkout clerk trying to balance two kids and a secret coke habit. Drugs also figure into the plot of the harrowing Winter’s Bone, though its protagonist, Ree Dolly (Jennifer Lawrence), is faced with a different set of circumstances: her meth head father has jumped bail, leaving the family’s humble mountain home as collateral; the two kids at stake are her younger siblings. With no resources other than her own tenacity, Ree strikes out into her rural Missouri community, seeking information from relatives who clearly know where her father is — but ain’t sayin’ a word. It’s a journey fraught with menace, shot with an eye for near-documentary realism and an appreciation for slow-burn suspense; Lawrence anchors a solid cast with her own powerful performance. Who says American independent film is dead? (1:40) Empire, Lumiere, Shattuck. (Eddy)