One-Liners

WEST CENTRAL FIVE (B+) - Ken Burns and company get out of the way of a good story: a recounting of the false accusations and flawed prosecution of five black and hispanic teenagers in the 1989 rape and assault of a jogger in Central Park. The two-hour film (available at PBS.org) indicts not only the police and the DA's office but also politicians and the rabid New York media, which ignited a frenzy of hate toward these kids, some as young as 14, who were causing trouble in the park that night but did not rape the woman. (DNA tests confirmed the identity of the lone rapists, and the five were exonerated about a decade after their convictions.) All five appear to tell their stories. Many of the police and prosecutors are missing in action, as we get the story mainly from the criminal defense perspective. A true cautionary tale.

ABOUT CHERRY (C) - A laconic debut feature about a young adult who drifts into the world of porn. Writer/director Stephen Elliott's shaky camera is ineffective, and he lapses into too many cliches, such as close-ups of raindrops on windows and windshields. The lead is newcomer Ashley Hinshaw, who was about 21 at the time of filming and who comes off like a junior January Jones, with limited range but ample assets. James Franco, as her rich-lazy-druggy failed-artist boyfriend, acts as if he wandered over confused from another movie set. Lili Taylor phones in a thankless role as Cherry's lying, boozing mom. The only reason to see this is for Heather Graham, having outgrown her own bouncy topless roles ("Boogie Nights" et al.). She brings surprising depth to her turn as an adult-film director who crushes on Cherry while watching her own relationship to Diane Farr fall apart. Nothing else here really works.

A BURNING HOT SUMMER (C-minus) - This bit of French mumblecore is listless and directionless. Two couples in faltering relationships hang out at one of the couples' swanky apartment in Rome, where he's an artist (Louis Garrel, "The Dreamers" and the director's son) and she's a former model and movie star (Monica Bellucci, "Matrix Reloaded"). A half hour in, there is a fascinating dance scene set to the entirety of Dirty Pretty Things' spunky "Truth Begins," in which Bellucci grinds seductively with a random party-goer surrounded by trippy trance dancers. That's immediately followed by a childish putdown from Garrel to Bellucci, who freezes him with a glare and dismisses him with one word: basta. Otherwise, he's a mope, she walks around spilling out of her dress, and they sometimes cry together or remove a splinter from his foot. We don't care whether they stay together or not, the film's fundamental flaw. The other couple, struggling actors played by a bland Jerome Robart and sad-eyed Celine Sallette ("House of Tolerance"), barely register here. Just like their characters are stuck with these overgrown boys, Bellucci and Sallette seem trapped in this tepid melodrama.