7 Days in cinema

Recently Noted:

BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN Arriving on an avalanche of hype, “Brokeback Mountain” finally reaches the screen nine years after E. Annie Proulx’s memorable short story first appeared in The New Yorker. The story’s enduring impression—once the novelty wore off, one of sentimentality and archaism—is preserved intact in Diana Ossana and Larry McMurtry’s reverent yet inventive adaptation. (Ioannis Mookas)

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BUBBLE Even before it turns into a murder mystery, “Bubble” feels sinister and off-kilter. For its first half hour, it seems to be a gentle, observant account of working-class Midwestern life. For most directors, the plot, setting, and nonprofessional cast would call for a pseudo-documentary style, but the film aims for a much different look. Shooting on high definition digital video, director Steven Soderbergh creates a hyper-real feel. Landmark Sunshine. (Steve Erickson)

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CACHE (Hidden) Michael Haneke’s never come across a genre he didn’t want to implode—family melodrama in “The Seventh Continent” and “The Piano Teacher,” horror in “Funny Games,” science fiction in “Time of the Wolf.” With “Caché,” he’s made a thriller that retains all the form’s tension while offering little of its satisfactions and catharsis. In French with English subtitles. Lincoln Plaza, Landmark Sunshine. (Steve Erickson)

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THE FAMILY STONE Tom Bezucha’s “Family Stone” tells the story of Meredith (Sarah Jessica Parker), an uptight, finance-whiz girlfriend of the eldest Stone son, who brings her to his New England home for the holidays. Problem is, the eccentric family loathes the interloper. The dream ensemble includes Diane Keaton, Dermot Mulroney, Luke Wilson, and Claire Danes. CC Village East, Loews Kips Bay. (David Kennerley)

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MATCH POINT Character is this new Woody Allen’s film’s strength—both Nola and Chris are memorable creations. However, the screenplay is both the film’s high point and greatest weakness. Chris’ mysterious job, while apparently demanding and extremely well paying, leaves him plenty of time for afternoon flings and vacations. His rise in the business world is too fast and easy to be completely believable. “Match Point” isn’t concerned so much with the details of Chris’ sinecure as its effect on him. While he may have come from a lower class, outsider background, he becomes determined to hang onto his newfound wealth at all cost. (Steve Erickson)

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TO MURDER THE CINEMA: THE FILMS OF MARGUERITE DURAS. The doyenne of postwar French letters, Duras, was many things ––innovator of the nouveau roman, abettor of the French feminist movement, political interventionist, and later, scandalously sexed, dissolute older woman. A decade after her death in March 1996, Duras’ extraordinary career in film remains among the least appreciated aspects of her legacy. The Duras series now running at the French Institute/Alliance Française, the first substantial New York survey of her films since the 1995 MoMA retrospective, provides opportunities to catch “Le Camion,” her minimalist spoken-word slam with Gérard Depardieu; and the well-loved “India Song,” with Delphine Seyrig. “Nathalie Granger” (1972) exerts a special fascination, however, and if you can see only one of these programs, try not to miss it. Florence Gould Hall. Through Feb. 28. (Ioannis Mookas)

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THAT MAN, PETER BERLIN Jim Tushinski’s fabulous film about the porn star/recluse will entertain those who remember Peter Berlin, and educate those who do not. With his Dutch boy haircut, and skintight clothes that left nothing to the imagination, Berlin caused heads to turn, tongues to wag, and fantasies to ignite when he turned up in San Francisco in the early 1970s. Using amazing archival images, excerpts from Berlin’s porn films—“Nights in Black Leather” and “That Boy”—as well as photos by and of Berlin, Tushinki reveals the very private, and very public, lives of this gay male icon. Cinema Village. (Gary Kramer)

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TRANSAMERICA “Transamerica,” the new film written and directed by Duncan Tucker, is terribly written, poorly conceived, and its premise is stupid to the point of ridiculousness. It is also, most likely, the best film of 2005. The credit for this success lies not in Tucker’s overbearing hands, but in the more delicate fingers of Felicity Huffman. IFC Center, Clearview’s 62nd & Broadway. (Nick Feitel)

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WHY WE FIGHT Opening a year after its coronation at Sundance 2005, Eugene Jarecki’s magnificent documentary “Why We Fight” is poised to incite the national dialogue about our corrupt administration and its profit-driven endless war into a furor. Assembled with a jeweler’s precision and finesse, the film’s tightly reasoned, diamond-edged argument is designed to pierce the mystifications of Bush and his corporate media handmaidens. Angelika, Lincoln Plaza. (Ioannis Mookas)

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