Cairo, Egypt -- 4 March 2007 -- Still photography during shooting and production of the short documentary film "Garbage Dreams" by Mai Iskander. The principal characters in the film are Adham, Osama and Nabil, all garbage collectors in the Manshiet Nasr quarter of Cairo.Photograph by Barry Iverson

Wed., June 10, 9:30 p.m., Uptown, Three Blind Mice: The three Australian sailors on shore leave in Sydney are self-aware enough to make On the Town jokes, and some SIFFgoers will also be reminded of The Last Detail. In the one long night before their ship returns to active duty in the Persian Gulf, prostitutes are summoned, parents are visited, poker played, girls picked up, lives reappraised, and one Very Big Secret avoidedaE”until it absolutely must come out. Writer-director-actor Matthew Newton plays the cleverest of the trio, a cardsharp officer with a cheeky wit. Toby Schmitz plays the (seemingly) straight-arrow, with a rich fiancAce to please; while Ewen Leslie is the enlisted man without a university degree who bears fresh, ugly scars on his body. Even if Newton excessively underlines a few big speeches, his writing gives a big cast of Aussie TV talent ample room to display their chops. (Heather Mitchell is a boozy hoot at the straight-arrowaE™s mother.) The handheld camera chases after our three troubled musketeers, who quarrel, separate, and return to the same hotel room at dawn to debate the price of military discipline. (Recall ChurchillaE™s famous description of the Royal Navy.) Thankfully, as it proceeds by its own fitful rhythm, Three Blind Mice isnaE™t just another one of those antiwar Iraq War movies. But it makes one think about the psychological injuries of friendly fire, without an enemy in sight. (NR) BRIAN MILLER Also: 4:30 p.m. Sun., June 14.

Thurs., June 11, 6:30 p.m., SIFF Cinema, Afghan Star: Slumdog Millionaire, the documentary. Deservedly a Sundance prize-winner, Havana MarkingaE™s film follows the American Idol knock-off produced in Kabul for a newly unified national television audience. Viewers from AfghanistanaE™s major ethnic groups vote for their favorite singer by cell phone, watching from satellite dishes rigged with chicken wire. This is a case of entertainment chronicling entertainment, and Tolo TVaE”a post-Taliban startup with several English-speaking producersaE”undoubtedly shapes the narrative and grooms its stars for Afghan Star. Each finalist from the tribes representedaE”Pashto, Hazara, DariaE”parrots the Tolo TV line about uniting the country. Claims are made for cross-ethnic voting, but these are impossible to verify. (SIM cards are bought and sold in blocks, the film acknowledges, making it possible to stuff the ballot box.) But, you know what, who cares? This isnaE™t Frontline. Rather, Marking gains remarkable access to reality TV in the Third World, and she dramatizes her real-life story with a quartet of funny, flawed, likeable, and ambitious young singers. ItaE™s like The Hills interwoven with life-and-death politics. Fatwas are issued against one contestant, a woman who dares to dance on stage. (Slut!) Another finalist politely applies the verbal stiletto to his male rival thusly: aEœYou donaE™t have a voice, but you have beauty.aE Afghan Star has its limitations, but itaE™s truthful and fun. (NR) BRIAN MILLER Also: 11 a.m. Sat., June 13.

Fri., June 12, 4:30 p.m., SIFF Cinema, Rain: So named because she was born outdoors during a storm, teenaged Rain has to adjust to Nassau slum life after the death of the grandmother who raised her on a small Bahamian island. ItaE™s an adjustment for RainaE™s mother, tooaE”decent-hearted but addicted to dice and the pipe, barely able to take care of herself much less, suddenly, a daughter. But a newly discovered talent for running and a no-nonsense but nurturing track coach help Rain cope. It may sound a touch formulaic, but Rain artfully keeps you guessing: Devout Christianity provides deep solace for the grandmother, but also, we find out, family turmoil for the coach; one minor character is a bastard in one scene, a hero in another. But RainaE™s wide-eyed calm, engaging modesty, and resilience remain steady throughout. (NR) GAVIN BORCHERT Also: 7 p.m. Sat., June 13.

Fri., June 12, 7 p.m., SIFF Cinema, In Your Absence: ItaE™s not often you watch a movie and it captivates you before the first syllable of dialogue is even uttered. IvA¡n NoelaE™s In Your Absence is about a young boyaE™s coming-of-age following his fatheraE™s death. ItaE™s set in the rolling hills of southern SpainaE”the beauty of which, during the opening credits, will take your breath away. Pablo (Gonzalo SA¡nchez Salas) is dealing with the emotional repercussions of his fatheraE™s demise just at the time when puberty and hormones start hitting him. He spends most of his time playing in the fields with his friend Julia (Ana Tutor), an overly sexual, more experienced girl. From her provocative outfits to her salacious statements, Julia commands attention as the crude, blunt, and ultimately tragic girl she is. The movie follows Pablo as he meets a man named Paco (Fransisco Alfonsin) on the side of the road in his small town. Desperate for a father figure, he latches onto him. But neighbors warn him against the stranger, and Pablo eventually finds out the life-changing secret that Paco, and everyone else is keeping from him. Audiences will truly be shocked at the unpredictable turn the movie takes. (NR) BRITT THORSON Also: 4 p.m. Sat., June 13.

Fri., June 12, 9:30 p.m., Harvard Exit, Youssou NaE™dour: I Bring What I Love ItaE™s with not a small amount of embarrassment that I admit that, prior to watching this doc, my only knowledge of Youssou NaE™dour was his aEœIn Your EyesaE duet with Peter Gabriel for Say Anything. IaE™m probably not alone there, which I expect will make Elizabeth Chai VasarhelyiaE™s portrait of the Sengalese singer and political activist that much more compelling to Western audiences. But what sets I Bring What I Love apart from other musician-centric documentaries is that in avoiding hagiography, it becomes something much more novel: a nuanced exploration of Islam that avoids the topic of terrorism altogether. In 2004, NaE™dour released Egypt, a collection of Sufi praise-hymns in the vein of his griot roots, and while he performed the album in front of adoring, and also, secular European audiences, sales of the album in his native and predominantly Muslim Senegal tanked. Vasarhelyi follows NaE™dour, one of AfricaaE™s most treasured musicians, as he attempts and ultimately fails to negotiate the fault lines between his profession, his faith, and the rigid traditions that determine how and when that faith is celebrated. (NR) VERNAL COLEMAN Also: 1:30 p.m. Sun., June 14.

Sun., June 14, 6:30 p.m., Cinerama, 0SS 117: Lost in Rio Considered as a film alone, this sequel to the delightful French 2006 retro-spy romp now wears its premise rather thin. But add in the closing-night gala party at the nearby Pan Pacific HotelaE¦well, itaE™s just barely a pick. Agent 0SS 117 (Jean Dujardin) is back, but heaE™s stumbled forward from the early Cold War espionage period (James Bond) to the late aE™60s (perilously close to Austin Powers). Dispatched to Brazil to retrieve some damning microfilm from Nazis, our blithely arrogant dimwit hero encounters hippies, Jews (including a sexy Mossad agent played by Louise Monot), Chinese assassins, and loud-mouthed CIA bullies. And, yes, Hubert manages to offend them all with his oblivious, De Gaullist notions of patriarchal French superiority. But we got that joke the first time. After a ski-lodge dance party intro, HubertaE™s anticsaE”and all the split-screen Thomas Crown Affair montagesaE”become progressively less hilarious, allowing you to study the perfect period costumes and background dAccor. HubertaE™s lapels are wider, the ladiesaE™ skirts are shorter, menaE™s hair is longer, and strange new polyester fabrics now come in burnt oranges, bright mustards, and startling mauves. Much to his chagrin, the world is changing around Hubert. Still, he clings to the old ways. When the Mossad hottie lists his many imperfectionsaE”aEœYouaE™re old, full of yourself, borderline racistaE¦aEaE”he hears only one criticism, and sounds genuinely hurt by it: aEœA tacky dresser?aE (NR) BRIAN MILLER