Patty Jenkins’ raw and unsettling Monster gives us a front-row glimpse into the disturbed mind of female serial killer Aileen Wuornos (played by an almost unrecognizable Charlize Theron), who murdered seven men (she admitted only to six) before she was apprehended and eventually executed (in 2002).

Using diaries that Wuornos kept during her 12-year stay on Death Row, Jenkins reconstructs the 13 months of mayhem that would earn the prostitute drifter the nickname, “Damsel of Death.” Suicidal and down to her last five bucks, “Lee” walks into a Florida gay bar and meets Selby (a so-so Christina Ricci), a young lesbian shunned by her religious parents. With her prominent jowls, protruding teeth, stringy hair and wall-to-wall freckles, Wuornos is no raving beauty, but Selby, hungry for companionship, looks past these obvious physical flaws. They spend the night together — even though Wuornos insists she’s not gay — and a relationship based on mutual need is formed.

Initially, Wuornos’ infatuation with the spoiled, pouty Selby inspires her to “go straight” and search for a job that will give the couple the money they need to start a new life together. But after a series of humiliating job interviews, Wuornos goes back to hooking, her line of “work” since age 13. When one of her johns turns violent, she pulls a gun out of her purse and shoots him dead. Once she gets in touch with the repressed anger pulsating within her — we learn she was repeatedly sexually abused beginning at age 8 — Lee seems incapable of controlling her murderous impulses. First-time director Jenkins, who also wrote the script, doesn’t shy away from the story’s violence, but she wisely refrains from turning it into a “bloody mama” gorefest, emphasizing instead the story’s psychological underpinnings.

While the “monster” of the film’s title refers to a colossal ferris wheel Wuornos saw as a child, it is obviously also a reference to the woman herself, since Lee saw herself as irredeemably evil. (During her trial, she repeatedly told reporters she deserved to die.) Theron, in a true star-making turn, shows us the lost and damaged soul beneath the swaggering bravado. Her physical transformation is startling — the South African beauty wore special molded teeth and gained 30 pounds for the role — but her searing, emotionally naked performance is more about attitude and body language than makeup and extra poundage. Theron makes us feel genuinely sorry for Wuornos — quite an accomplishment, considering the cold-blooded nature of her crimes. (Hillcrest Cinemas; Aileen: The Life and Death of a Serial Killer, a documentary about Wuornos by Nick Broomfield and Joan Churchill, screens at the Landmark’s Ken Cinema Jan. 23-29)

Ever wonder why the Mona Lisa is smiling? Or what the farmers in “American Gothic” are thinking? Girl With a Pearl Earring, a beautifully crafted first feature by Peter Webber, purports to explain “the mystery behind the masterpiece” of the same name by 17th century Dutch painter Johannes Vermeer.

Olivia Hetreed’s screenplay, based on Tracy Chevalier’s novel (which has re-emerged on the best-seller charts), is set in Delft, Holland, circa 1665 (the year “Girl With a Pearl Earring” was painted). With her father unable to work because of injuries sustained in an accident, 17-year-old Griet (Scarlett Johansson) takes a job at the House of Vermeer as a maid. One of her many tasks is to clean Vermeer’s studio each day without disturbing so much as a brush bristle. (In one amusing moment, Griet dusts around a piece of paper, then curls it back to dust underneath.)

Very early on, Vermeer (a rather grim Colin Firth) sees that Griet is more than just a domestic servant, that she has a painter’s eye and understands his methodologies and artistic vision. It seems almost inevitable that the brooding artist would choose the young lady as the subject for his next non-commissioned picture. He’s careful to keep the work-in-progress a secret from his insecure wife (an excellent Essie Davis), who rightly suspects that a romance is brewing. It is Griet who will become the “Girl With a Pearl Earring,” gracing one of Vermeer’s most revered works of art. “You looked inside me,” she says with astonishment upon seeing an early version of the painting.

It’s not much of a “mystery” — artist hires maid, maid poses for artist — but Webber, working with ace cinematographer Eduardo Serra, expertly draws us into what little there is of the story, subtly touching on the unrequited attraction between Vermeer and his awestruck subject, who is so innocent that when asked by the artist to lick her lips, she does so without exposing her tongue. Johansson, a charmer in last year’s Lost in Translation, makes an ideal Griet. Hers is a delicately nuanced performance that comes not from words but facial expressions — a cock of the head, a tilt of the eyes — that speak to her character’s wide-eyed wonderment. Girl With a Pearl Earring is both a visual feast and an opportunity to watch a bright young actress continue to hone her growing skills. (Hillcrest Cinemas)

In The Company, director Robert Altman pays tribute to the “ethereal” qualities of modern ballet, taking us both back and center stage to watch the (slightly fictionalized) Joffrey Ballet of Chicago work its magic. The film, written by Barbara Turner from a story conceived with co-star Neve Campbell (who trained for the film after a ten-year break from ballet), beautifully captures the grace and athleticism of these gifted performers. The problem is, when The Company stops dancing, it has nothing of note to offer, like a Broadway show with brilliant songs but a weak, skeletal book.

Altman means to show us the unglamorous aspects of these dancers’ lives, from the petty jealousies and calloused feet, to the torn Achilles tendons that sabotage blossoming careers. Take away their ballet shoes, and these disciplined, insanely dedicated artists are just ordinary folk, with the same kinds of problems — pushy parents, long work hours, failed relationships — we all face. But is that what we want to see? The characters are so hum-drum and thinly drawn that we don’t particularly care about any of them, though Malcolm McDowell, as the company’s cranky, demanding artistic director, engages us whenever he’s on screen.

“It’s not the steps, it’s what’s inside,” McDowell says to his dancers in one scene. Though entertaining and professionally made, once you remove the steps, The Company is conspicuously hollow at its core. (Landmark’s La Jolla Village Cinemas; starts Jan. 23)

Recommended current releases: Cold Mountain, Lord of the Rings: Return of the King, The Last Samurai, Lost in Translation, 21 Grams, Big Fish, Elf, Something’s Gotta Give, The Triplets of Belleville, Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World.

Kyle Counts is the film critic for the Gay and Lesbian Times.