Grizzly Man (Lions Gate)
Timothy Treadwell was a nut. He spent 11 summers among the brown bears of Alaska, treating them as creatures more mystical than biological. Then they ate him. In Werner Herzog's fascinating documentary, you see Treadwell through many different eyes, but mostly through his own: He compulsively recorded the wilderness, as well as his anger, depression, and overpowering megalomania. A person you wouldn't want to spend five minutes with gains depth in the light of his inevitable death and the astounding nature shots he captured. Is Treadwell as foolish as he seems, or are we watching a slow-motion suicide? What isn't up for discussion is the Oscars' inexplicable failure to place Grizzly Man on the short list for documentaries. -- Jordan Harper
American Pie: Band Camp (Universal)
Women's breasts plus juvenilia equal this third, straight-to-DVD sequel to American Pie (a film that, in comparison, towers like Annie Hall). Band Camp lacks the charm of the first Pie, as well as the budget and the major characters -- save for Eugene Levy, who apparently lost a bet. Instead, we get Tad Hilgenbrink as Matt Stifler (little brother to Seann William Scott's immortal lout), who is forced to attend a band camp staffed by Playboy Bunnies and porn stars. Wacky high jinks ensue -- that is, if your definition of "wacky high jinks" includes pepper-sprayed genitalia, mass vomiting, oboe fucking, and semen unknowingly employed as skin cream. As for the extras: Plenty of additional hooter glimpses await, along with deleted scenes that should go unwatched by all mankind. Strangely worthwhile, however, is a raunchy bit featuring ex-porn-star Ginger Lynn Allen, who pantomimes some very detailed techniques, using bananas and mangos as genital stand-ins. -- Harper
The Football Factory (Image Entertainment)
The football hooligan, already the star of films like Green Street Hooligans, rears his ugly head once more (for a right bashing, that is) in this Brit import based on the cult novel by John King. The Football Factory repeats the chorus of its predecessors, which reveled in the brutality till succumbing to the inevitable pangs of guilt. Danny Dyer plays Tommy, a part-time florist and full-time ruffian who enjoys nothing more than a fuck or a fight, whichever comes first. Directed by Nick Love (and produced by Rockstar Games, which pimps its Grand Theft Auto franchise in one scene), The Football Factory wants to be provocative and profound, but it ain't up to the task, mate. -- Wilonsky
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