S.F. International Film Festival

Full Moon (Switzerland/Germany/France, 1998)
Although it bungles the job midway through, this well-meaning New Age detective story does offer a terrific premise and gorgeous Swiss scenery. The simultaneous disappearance of a dozen children around the country galvanizes a sympathetic policeman and ardent outdoorsman named Wasser, whose investigation uncovers a parade of self-centered parents whom any self-respecting child would abandon at the first opportunity. But veteran writer/director Fredi Murer repeats and rehashes his themes (man versus nature, the child is father to the man) at the expense of the plot, and the film gradually grows tiresome and predictable. (Michael Fox)

Sunday, April 25, 7:15 p.m., Kabuki; Tuesday, April 27, 6:40 p.m., Kabuki

Genghis Blues
(U.S.A., 1998)
This work is winning audience awards at festivals all over the world, and it's easy to see why. Though it's not much more than an exuberant home movie, Roko Belic's film perfectly captures his subject's motley, epic journey to the almost mythical country of Tuva. Blind blues musician, San Francisco resident, and self-taught Tuvan-style throat-singer Paul Pena and his new-found soulmate, throat-singing master Kongar-ol Ondar, forge an uncommonly hearty, infectious bond (Ondar serenading Pena on the banks of the sacred Chadanaa river is but one of the film's many rhapsodic moments), and the strength of their friendship, as well as Pena's remarkable expedition, is more than enough to overcome the raggedness of the filmmaking. (Tod Booth)

Thursday, April 29, 10 p.m., Kabuki

Gigi (U.S.A., 1958)
This musical is an appropriate tribute to the late Albert Johnson, who wrote one of the first-ever appreciations of director Vincente Minnelli back in 1958, the year this film appeared. An unusual subject -- a young girl (Leslie Caron) is being raised to a career as a courtesan -- makes for an uneven film. The director's warmth, best seen in the delightful "The Night They Invented Champagne" number, is somewhat at odds with Alan Jay Lerner's cool, brittle script. The film's high point is Louis Jourdan's fountainside discovery of his true feelings for Caron, a visual coup perfect for Minnelli's eye for an arresting image. (Gregg Rickman)

Sunday, April 25, 1 p.m., Castro

The Hole (Taiwan/France, 1998)
Tsai Ming-liang (The River, Vive L'Amour) has taken what's already become a yawn-inducing cliche -- a story set during the final week of the 20th century -- and created an extraordinarily droll and original millennial meet-cute. Two nameless, friendless neighbors, who've never laid eyes on each other, develop a strange relationship through the small hole in his floor and her ceiling. Like most of Tsai's films, it's depopulated and virtually dialogueless, and creates a space that is profoundly woebegone, hysterically funny, and intensely tender all at once. Tsai's other films all ended in total desolation -- in The Hole, he finally allows his characters a glimmer of happiness, and it's a joy to behold. (Tod Booth)

Sunday, April 25, 4 p.m., Kabuki; Monday, April 26, 9:40 p.m., Kabuki

The Importance of Being Earnest (England, 1952)
This pretty adaption of Oscar Wilde's clever farce was shot in candy-box color in 1952 and is presented in a handsome restored print, facilitating greater appreciation of the purple and yellow butterflies perched aboard the ladies' hats. There's no depth to the witty dialogue ping-ponging around the screen -- but none is called for, as Anthony Asquith's direction gets all the scripted laughs and more (a quick cutaway shot of the film's feyest character nibbling on a chicken leg is the funniest moment in the picture). Of the brilliant cast of English thespians, Edith Evans wins the prize for the most skillful packing of extra syllables into single short words. In her reading, "found" is transformed into "fou-ou-nd" -- you can't ask for a better Lady Bracknell than that. (Gregg Rickman)

Saturday, April 24, 1:30 p.m., Castro; Saturday, May 1, 4:30 p.m., PFA

The Indian Runner (U.S.A., 1991)
Sean Penn's directorial debut snuck into one of the dinky downstairs auditoriums at the Kabuki in 1991, without benefit of press screenings or even advertising, dumped there by its uninterested distributor. I watched it alone there one Sunday evening, and I've never quite been able to shake the film's spooky power -- the stark Nebraska landscapes, the naked tenderness of every single performance (leave it to Sean Penn to see the sweetness hiding behind Charles Bronson's previously unpenetrated typecast shell), the perceptive use of early '70s music, and the beautiful bluntness of its language and gesture. This time, the film will be accompanied by Mr. Penn himself, guaranteeing it the audience it deserves. (Tod Booth)

Friday, April 23, 7 p.m., Kabuki

Juha (Finland, 1999)
While other directors labor to reinvent cinema for the millennium, Aki Kaurismaki gleefully revels in anachronism. His witty modern black-and-white silent, abetted by an exhilarating score, is a perverse oddity and complete hoot. The irreverent Finn takes the cautionary tale of a city sharpie seducing a naive farm wife and persistently undercuts and countermands the conventions of melodrama. Sound effects offer comic relief throughout, the acting is intentionally awful, and a Sam Fuller quote on the blackboard perfectly sabotages the requisite police-station scene. The upshot is an absurdist tragedy that simultaneously mocks and honors the basic allure of movies. (Michael Fox)