6:30 p.m., Egyptian
PICK: Inju, the Beast in the Shadow
Barbet Schroeder delivers a delicious genre movie rooted in Japanese crime fiction. The first 10 minutes are a stand-alone distillation of such books—rich in blood, revenge, and vile villains committing unspeakable acts. After that gruesome treat, we meet smug French crime writer Alex (Benoît Magimel), who fancies himself an expert on the Japanese authors who've influenced him. Traveling to Japan with his new bestseller, he tries to meet a reclusive demon author who's never appeared in public. Naturally the mysterious master resents the usurper, who falls for a lovely tea-house girl (Lika Minamoto) with a mysterious scar on her back and a taste for kinky sex. (Conveniently, she speaks French; though some dialogue's in English, too.) To better understand the sensei's twisted mix of pleasure and pain, Tamao tells Alex, "you need first-hand experience." And this being a film by Barbet Schroeder (Single White Female, Reversal of Fortune), that means S&M, which only draws Alex deeper into his obsessions. This is the kind of movie that openly and enjoyably winks at its conventions, where the know-it-all Alex can declare that his rival has "blurred the line between fiction and reality!" Oh really? By the time Alex reconsiders whose story he's in—well, let's just say that the pen can be a fatal instrument. (NR) BRIAN MILLER Also: Uptown, 1:15 p.m. Sat., June 6; Cinerama, 4:15 p.m. Fri., June 12.
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7 p.m., Pacific Place
Everything Strange and New
"Now with the economy, our house is worth less than what we owe." Sound familiar? The guy complaining is a Bay Area construction worker (Jerry McDaniel) with a stay-at-home wife (Beth Lisack) and two small boys. Wayne takes the bus to work, where he compares marital woes with his boss and best buddy on the crew. But he also speaks to us in long voiceover passages, often set to street-scene montage, with a rueful self-awareness that removes this odd, unadorned little film from mere naturalism. ("It's not the life we thought we were signing up for when we got married.") Everything Strange is an unaffected chronicle of the slide from middle-class dreams and youthful freedom. Well, unaffected but for one fatal mistake committed by writer-director-cinematographer Frazer Bradshaw, which is to literalize his hero's sense of creeping humiliation with a recurring fantasy motif. It's so bad that I won't describe it, because there's much else to recommend about this debut indie feature. The look, texture, and soundtrack are uncluttered, while Wayne's feelings grow more scrambled. And his buddies' lives turn out to be even more complicated, not so rosy as he thought. The film conveys the intimate sense of reading a diary, and no more consolation than we feel in writing our own. (NR) BRIAN MILLER Also: 1 p.m. Sat., June 6.
7 p.m., Uptown
Swimsuit Issue
This Swedish sports comedy is light and harmless, like a sitcom writ long, like The Full Monty and Susan Boyle's YouTube stardom boiled down to their most generic, middle-aged-underdog essence. The premise is entertaining enough: As part of a bachelor party, a group of men—barely competent weekend-warrior athletes—dress in drag and do synchronized swimming. But what begins as a lark soon becomes a passion, as the group, led by hypercompetitive misfit protagonist Henrik, begins an unlikely mission to compete in the world championships of men's synchronized swimming. Along the way they confront reverse sexual discrimination, homophobia, manscaping, and the balance between friendship and winning. (Also, Henrik must repair his relationship with his teenage daughter, who finds him embarrassing.) There aren't many belly laughs, but Swimsuit Issue is sweet and amusing, if predictable. Finally—lest we shortchange Henrik and the boys—while synchronized swimming starts out as a punch line, it ends up being pretty damn cool. (NR) DAMON AGNOS Also: Admiral, 7 p.m. Sat., June 6; Egyptian, 9:30 p.m. Fri., June 12.
9:30 p.m., Uptown
The Clone Returns Home
By virtue of luck or good programming, this Japanese sci-fi picture is like a companion piece to Moon, which also involved cloning and self-alienation. Most of the film takes place on Earth, however, which may be the reason its airless, melancholy spell doesn't last beyond the first 30 minutes. Astronaut Kohei once had a twin brother, we learn in flashback, which makes him—the surviving sibling—doubly precious to his mother. "I won't permit you dying before me," she tells the boy. Years later, following a space accident, you can be sure those words are prophetic. Kohei's corporate employers have made plans for any possible space mishaps, and his wife is told "Your husband will return to you just as he was." But as we all know from software updates, not every new version works as advertised. The company's mad scientist—actually quite gentle as mad scientists go—warns of "scars on the soul" and "memory echoes." These are like bits of bad code in Kohei versions 2.0 and 3.0. The somber conundrum that results, which entails much marching through the Japanese countryside, probably would've worked better as comedy. We could call the remake Too Many Koheis. (NR) BRIAN MILLER Also: Admiral, 4 p.m. Thurs., June 10; Egyptian, 9:30 p.m. Sat., June 13.
