Crank 2: High Voltage (Lions Gate): Not much new to add to our earlier review. Let it just be said that Jason Statham is still the go-to guy for authentic badasses, and that David Carradine gave his final screen role a blast of gonzo energy. Oh, and on the sad note, that the filmmakers went on to do the inane, thrill-free Gamer.

Silent Light (Palisades Tartan): A remake of Carl Theodor Dreyer’s Ordet set in an isolated community of Mexican Mennonites? Boy, Carlos Reygadas sure doesn’t make it easy for the audiences, does he? Still, anybody with an ounce of sensitivity to beauty will drool buckets over the opening shot of a sunrise that looks anything but from this earth.

Menace II Society (New Line): I vividly remember the early 1990s, when gritty portraits of alienated black kids in harsh neighborhoods seemed to be released on a weekly basis. This one, directed in 1993 by the Hughes Brothers, is tougher and more despairing than the more famous Boyz n the Hood, and it’s worth revisiting even if many of its scenes have since become fodder for the Wayans Brothers.

That Hamilton Woman (Criterion): Winston Churchill’s favorite movie, this lavish costume drama is more fun than most of its ilk thanks to the convincing passion whipped up by Vivien Leigh and Laurence Olivier, lovers both on and off-screen. Andrew Sarris supposedly saw this one dozens of times just for a glimpse of Leigh’s piercing eyes. Ah, cinema…

Valentino: The Last Emperor (Phase 4): A panting tribute to a stinking-rich corporate magnate? In these times? Really?

Forget Romeo and Juliet, this to my young self was the ultimate tale of star-crossed lovers. It’s set during medieval times that could have come right out of a Bergman drama, with great valleys, stony ruins near mountains and cavernous, oppressive cathedrals. Navarre (uber-awesome Rutger Hauer) and Isabeau (Michelle Pfeiffer, never more beautiful) are passionately in love with each other, yet can never be together due to a curse put on them by the Bishop (John Wood), who wanted Isabeau for himself. Now, Navarre will turn into a wolf during the night and Isabeau will be a hawk during the day, so that they’re never both human at the same time. The fairy-tale is the kind you love to hear from your grandparents, save within yourself, and then pass it along to your own children. Another thing I loved, too, was the brazenly anachronistic humor injected by Gaston (Matthew Broderick), a scampering character known as “Mouse” who tags along with the couple and talks as if he’s just time-traveled from 1980s New York. (Unfortunately, the score also sounds like it has just come from that decade, too.) This was a special movie for me, utterly romantic, tragic, thrilling and funny. Only later did I realize that the director was Richard Donner, the Lethal Weapon guy. Well, if nothing else, at least hacks were versatile back then.

I’ve had just about enough of folks waxing nostalgic about how groovy Woodstock was back in the Sixties, maaaan. Still, I rather liked Taking Woodstock, director Ang Lee’s portrayal of the legendary 1969 concert as seen through the eyes of a young man. Elliott Teichberg (Demetri Martin) is the teenage son of a Jewish-Russian couple (Imelda Staunton, Henry Goodman), and the dilapidated family hotel is in danger of being taken away due to unpaid bills. Things look bleak, until Elliott hears about hippies getting kicked out of the original site for their music concert, and, seizing the opportunity, gets the event organizers to relocate to the land around his hotel. In no time, there’s an army of far-out folks camping out all over the place, running around naked, making love in the bushes, and otherwise expanding the young protagonist’s worldview. Lee (who won an Oscar for Brokeback Mountain) is a very perceptive director of drama and character, and here he displays a sensitive, gentle touch that captures Woodstock’s transient feeling of hope. Weirdly enough, there are almost no glimpses of the festival’s musical numbers, and only one psychedelic drug trip. Instead of focusing on these clichés, Lee instead gets to the heart of Martin’s character, a still unformed gay man who over the course of the event learns more about his own identity. It’s much closer to Lee’s excellent 1997 drama The Ice Storm than to the famous 1971 documentary Woodstock, and it should be seen even if you can’t tell a Sha-Na-Na from a Grateful Dead.