Written and directed by Neil Marshall

Starring: Shauna Macdonald, Natalie Mendoza, Alex Reid and Saskia Mulder

99 minutes in CinemaScope

It’s “cavers” vs. “crawlers” in this highly watchable and occasionally effective British gore fest.

One year after a head-on collision caused a piece of copper tubing to permanently air-condition her daughter’s skull, a bereaving mother (Shauna Macdonald) decides its time to shed her mourning clothes and go explore a cave with her friends. Six women undertaking a Deliverance-like adventure (set in the Appalachians and minus the squealing pig) certainly has the potential for a good action picture, and the first half of The Descent came close to matching my expectations.

Meeting up at a farmhouse that makes the caves look like the Lawrence Welk Village, the group spends their first night together partying it up and doing their best to ignore the topic of headless offspring. Here’s a hint of what’s to come: The only gal to drag on a joint is also the first to die. The Burt Reynolds of the group is Juno (Natalie Mendoza), a cocky control freak who risks her pals’ lives by switching sites at the last minute in hope of discovering an uncharted cavern.

The film’s main drawback is the unerring delight it takes in exposing its audience to innumerable schlock shocks. Nothing can enter or exit the frame unless accompanied by a jolt of Dolby amplification. I began to anticipate a booming thunderclap whenever a character turned her head.

As fate (and Hollywood dictums) would have it, just moments after scribbling “Good – not endowing characters with Stallone-like heroics” on my notepad, things changed. Writer/director Neil Marshall couldn’t resist the blockbuster mentality, and the film shifted gears in favor of a standard-issue role-reversal genre flick: Rambo IV: Menstrual Blood.

I don’t care if it’s intentional or not, just so long as I’m laughing, and the film’s last act yielded many a contemptuous snicker. Whether you’re in the mood for a good genre flick or a bad one, you’re sure to find them both in The Descent.

Rating: **1/2

Written and directed by Larry Clark

Starring: Jonathan Velasquez, Francisco Pedrasa, Usvaldo Panameno and Milton Velasquez as Spermball

111 minutes

The week’s biggest disappointment came from a generally reliable source for refreshingly off-putting venality. If you were disgusted by Kids and Bully, this just may be the Larry Clark film for you.

Known for unflinching portraits of teen isolation and frank sexuality, Clark uncharacteristically opted for a Hollywood standby; a ”fish out of water” story about a pack of seven South Central skater boys who wind up spending an afternoon in Beverly Hills. Was Clark purposely holding back in hopes of getting wider distribution?

Jonathan’s (Jonathan Velasquez) opening split-screen monologue sets the tone of this largely improvised day-in-the-life comedy. We watch as each boy awakens and is given a few moments to observe his home life.

The story is set in motion when one of the underage dudes manages to borrow a car to bomb around in. A Beverly Hills cop (Chris Neville) quickly spots and pulls over the band of undesirables. In a scene worthy of “Adam-12,” we watch as the stiff, over-played officer impounds the vehicle and attempts to lecture the boys on the finer points of law enforcement.

With the exception of a scene where one of the kids details how he lost his virginity, too much of this borders dangerously close to John Hughes territory. At times, Clark seems to have all but given up on keeping things real in favor of broad slapstick antics. It’s a given that whenever a swimming pool appears in a Hollywood film, one of the characters is going to take a bath, but from the man that brought you Kids?

It’s been a long five years since one of Clark’s films played San Diego (Bully was the last to open). His subsequent picture, Ken Park, was branded too objectionable for general release. Until it hits home video, fans will just have to make due with a hit of Larry Clark-lite.

Rating: **

Written and directed by M. Night Shyamalan

Starring: Paul Giamatti, Bryce Dallas Howard, Bob Balaban and Geoffrey Wright

110 minutes

Last time, I lamented Hollywood’s lack of originality by turning to theme-park rides for plot inspiration. It is one thing for a director to be so full of himself that he believes even the bedtime stories he concocts for his two daughters are worthy of big-screen treatment. How this made it into the development stages remains the films biggest fright.

M. Night Shyamalan noted, “The way I tell stories to my kids is very freeform – whatever pops into my head and comes out of my mouth.” Not unlike his nighty-night approach, Shyamalan’s film jerks along as if the characters were making up the screenplay as they went along. This bedtime story worked: I had to force myself to stay awake.

Paul Giamatti plays a meek apartment superintendent who discovers a beautiful young nymph (Bryce Dallas Howard) living in the building’s swimming pool. It turns out that she is a narf, a character come to life from a labyrinthine bedtime story.

The only reason (and it’s a good one) to see Lady in the Water is the moody photography by frequent Wong Kar-Wai collaborator Christopher Doyle. Has anyone ever filmed rain quite as beautifully as Doyle? Let’s hope he picked up a good paycheck, for this is the worst material a master cinematographer has applied his talents to since Robby Muller lensed the Tim Conway turd The Longshot.

According to the press notes, “Shyamalan has created a brand new mythology in the tradition of The Princess Bride and E. T. Sometimes, if you set your sights low enough, box office success is inevitable.

Rating: *

Directed by Anthony Russo and Joe Russo

Written by Mike LeSieur

Starring: Owen Wilson, Matt Dillon, Kate Hudson and Michael Douglas

108 minutes

Owen Wilson plays Dupree, the best man-turned-barnacle who upgrades from a cot in a bar to a couch in newlyweds Matt Dillon and Kate Hudson’s living room. You were expecting maybe The Man Who Came to Dinner? This doesn’t even come close to matching John Belushi’s classic “SNL” skit “The Thing that Wouldn’t Leave.”

If ever a story needed strict attention paid to character development in order to make it run, it’s this one. The majority of the humor in a situation such as this stems from watching the relationships gradually dissolve into a comedic nightmare. For no motivated reason, Dillon instantly turns on his lifelong friend. Admittedly, he is far from the perfect houseguest, but Dillon’s ire comes long before Dupree turns the living room into a touring company of “The Odd Couple” or gets caught red-handed (and faced) with porn in the VCR.

In reality, this is a love story between two men, and Hudson should have disappeared after the second reel. Dillon and Wilson make a much cuter couple, and, if I remember correctly, spend more time hugging on screen than the husband and his bride do.

Unless we hit another sticky hot spell or you’re curious to see just how spectacularly Matt Dillon is holding up, you have no excuse to do Dupree.

Rating: *