Aquamarine

So this is what happens when the Little Mermaid hits puberty. Splash for the Lizzie McGuire crowd, Aquamarine is set in that preteen girl world where everyone over 30 --hell, over 20 -- is either a loving but clueless parent or the creepy caretaker. Sara Paxton is the titular runaway mermaid, who has traded in her tail for a pair of legs in search of love with a landlubber. Or what passes for love at this stage: a crush on a cute, dull-witted lifeguard and a couple of BFFs to spend summer vacation with. Hopefully whoever slapped the "fish-out-of-water comedy" slogan on the poster was being paid by the hour, but it was inevitable; any film about girls this age is a coming-of-age story almost by default, and yes, lessons are learned and fears are overcome. Elizabeth Allen's direction is not without its charms, but the steady succession of boy-watching, giggling and shopping will be impenetrable to anyone for whom age has already come. Paxton's first act on dry ground is to throw on a T-shirt and jump on a bed, more appropriate to The Man Show than the Disney Channel; maybe the creepy caretakers will discover it on DVD.

--Shaun Brady (UA Riverview)

ballets russes

Watching a bunch of octogenarians go on about the glory days of ballet may not sound like most people's idea of a good time, but even non-balletomanes will get sucked in by the story of the Ballets Russes. Note the plural, the result of a mid-1930s split between the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo and its chief choreographer, George Balanchine. Leonide Massine (known to cinephiles from his leading roles in The Red Shoes and Tales of Hoffman) took over the original company, and the booted Balanchine formed his own Ballet Russe; at one point, during what Marian Seldes' voiceover wryly calls "the Great Ballet Wars of 1938," the two companies held down London residencies a mere block apart. Dayna Goldfine and Dan Geller's documentary is rich in archival footage (though true aficionados will want to see the extended clips that will no doubt grace the DVD) and interviews with the surviving dancers -- a surprisingly robust group, at least until you see the still-foxy George Zoritch going through his daily workout. Temporarily reunited by the exigencies of World War II, both Ballets Russes fell prey to declining interest and changing tastes in the 1950s. The brilliant Broadway choreographer Agnes de Mille took over one company, conceiving democratic dances that, Zoritch sneers, could've been performed by "anyone not in a wheelchair." But now that both kinds of dance have slipped out of the mainstream, it's possible to see more continuity than discord between the styles, and the vivid testimonies by the dancers who saw, and often joined, the Ballets Russes on their travels attest to the companies' lasting influence.

--Sam Adams

(Ritz at the Bourse; Ritz 16)

Dave Chappelle's Block Party

dave chappelle's block party

At one point in Michel Gondry's freewheeling, endlessly enjoyable concert documentary, emcee and mastermind Dave Chappelle turns up wearing a Richard Pryor T-shirt, a wardrobe choice that signifies much more than mere tribute. Although it wasn't apparent in the fall of 2004, Chappelle was approaching a crisis much like that precipitated by Pryor's famous trip to Africa. Where Pryor came back from the motherland determined to expunge racial epithets from his act, Chappelle was worrying that his highly successful TV show was "socially irresponsible." Maybe this impromptu gathering, staged on a Brooklyn street corner, was Chappelle's way of giving back, or just surrounding himself with friendly faces -- regardless, it's a vivid snapshot of intelligent, East Coast hip-hop and its power to instill a profound sense of community. Gondry cuts between the performances -- all of which verge on greatness, and some of which, like Dead Prez's "Turn Off the Radio," are truly mind-scorching -- and Chappelle's preparations, including a trip to his adopted hometown of Dayton, where he distributes "golden tickets" to lucky passers-by, and also drafts an entire marching band to play at the festivities. Watching Chappelle on his feet, unscripted, it's more clear than ever that his primary gift as a comedian is his lightning speed; hardly a versatile performer, he makes it up by strafing right past your defenses. With a bill composed mainly of Chappelle's Show allies like the Roots, Mos Def and Talib Kweli, as well as ringer Kanye West and an impromptu Fugees reunion, the laid-back hangout vibe is engaging and infectious. Modestly ambitious in scope, Block Party is a cumulative delight that builds to something close to ecstasy. Though not a tour de force like Heart of Gold, it's alive in all the right ways, and might be the first great movie of the new year.

--S.A. (AMC Orleans; Bridge; UA Grant; UA Main St.; UA Riverview; UA 69th St.)

16 blocks

See Shaun Brady's review. (AMC Orleans; Bridge; Ritz 16; UA Grant; UA Main St.; UA Riverview; UA 69th St.)

street fight

The combatants in Marshall Curry's Oscar-nominated documentary, set during the 2002 Newark mayoral campaign, are four-term incumbent Sharpe James and 32-year-old challenger Cory Booker. Although Booker establishes himself as a classic reform candidate, Curry glosses over both sides' rhetoric, focusing instead on the bare-knuckle tactics James uses to cut his opponent off at the knees. Police try to eject Booker from a public housing project, while his supporters report a campaign of harassment from city officials; Curry himself is manhandled by figures who identify themselves as police officers every time he tries to get close to the mayor. Things get spectacularly ugly when James plays the race card -- no less so because both candidates are black. James paints Booker as a moneyed "carpetbagger" -- never mind that Booker's parents were working-class veterans of the civil rights struggle, or that he went to Stanford on a football scholarship. James is quoted calling Booker a "faggot white boy," and on the Today show refers to him as "Jewish." Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson put their weight behind James, while Spike Lee and Cornel West stump for Booker, vindicating Curry's claim that the race serves as a referendum for the future of black leadership in America. Though Curry criticizes the media for treating the campaign as a "sport," he gets swept up himself in the down-and-dirty tactics; dislikable as James' actions are, it's not clear if or why Booker would be better for the people of Newark, which undermines the movie's portrait of them as easily manipulated dupes.

--S.A. (Roxy)

ultraviolet

A haiku:

I'm sorry, Milla.

But you look fat in that suit.

There's always Atkins.