by CHRIS BARRY, KEVIN LAFOREST and JOANNE LATIMER

Turtles Can Fly

Along the Iraqi-Turkish border, the children of a Kurdish refugee camp wait anxiously in the days leading up to the 2003 American invasion.

Kak Satellite (Soran Ebrahim), a petty tyrant who's fascinated by the United States, bosses the other kids around. His biggest scam is making them dig up landmines so he can trade them for various goods. As he explains, "Half of them don't have hands. They're the best, they're not afraid of the mines anymore."

Iranian writer-director Bahman Ghobadi's latest film is the first to have been shot in Iraq since the fall of the Saddam Hussein regime. It's all the more affecting because these are actual refugees on screen, many of them crippled, and we can see how devastated the country is, with tons of metal scrap lying everywhere.

But as immediate and realistic as Turtles Can Fly is, it's also a very cinematic experience. And even though there's always an undercurrent of infinite sorrow, some scenes are beautiful or even funny. Remarkably photographed, there is a truly majestic feel to the long wide shots of misty mountains and valleys. As well, there is an almost mythical feel to the story, particularly around Agrin (Avaz Latif), a girl with a Medea complex, whom Satellite is enamoured with; and her armless brother Pasheo (Saddam Hossein Feysal), who has visions of the future.

This is one of the most enlightening depictions of war I've seen, because it's seen from the inside, away from politics and straight into the pain of the true victims of these conflicts. (KL)

Constantine

I figure you can never go too wrong with a Keanu Reeves picture. No matter how god-awful the film, there's always plenty of yucks to be had at the almost impossibly limited acting ability of the sexy 'ol muckraker. And forget about his Shakespearean ramblings in the classic My Own Private Idaho, or, if possible, his portrayal of Siddhartha in Bertolucci's Little Buddha. This might be Reeves' greatest performance ever, that of demon slayer Constantine in neophyte director Francis Lawrence's film of the same name.

Loosely based on Vertigo/DC's ever popular Hellblazer comic, Reeves is back saving the world again. This time not from a few second-rate computer-generated agents, but from Satan himself. And hey, that's pretty serious! You see, Reeves is a hard-living exorcist of sorts who spends his days deporting renegade spooks back down to Hell. That's all fine and dandy, of course, until a mysterious suicide spawns what might well become Armageddon, the emergence of the son of Satan onto our spiritual plane! And we ain't talking Karl Rove here. Reeves is forced to wrestle some pretty ferocious computer-generated Hell creatures in order to save our souls.

If you can allow yourself to buy into the ridiculous Catholic pseudo-dogma Constantine keeps throwing at you, and just roll with it, you may actually enjoy this film. Sure, it's stupid as all get out, but that should come as no surprise to Reeves fans. And the CGI effects are stellar, assuming you get off on that kind of thing. Go stoned for maximum enjoyment. (CB)

Son of the Mask

Funnyman Jamie Kennedy deserves credit for puffing up his chest and starring in the sequel to Jim Carrey's much-loved movie The Mask. What could be more terrifying for a comic actor than following Carrey in Son of the Mask? Maybe fear explains Kennedy's one-note performance as Tim Avery, a hapless father and stalled animation genius. Luckily for Kennedy, the film itself is quite busy distracting us with CGI gimmicks, and Avery's demonic toddler who tortures his paps after watching a Woody Woodpecker cartoon.

There are some films, perhaps, that cannot be enjoyed unless you've survived the perils of parenthood. I haven't, so Son of the Mask was a boring exercise in whiz-bang effects. (Where are the cartoon toothpicks to prop open our eyelids?) Director Lawrence Guterman (Cats & Dogs) doesn't direct the film so much as he volleys scenarios on the screen: loser cartoonist, reluctant fatherhood, spooky mask, possessed baby, vaudeville-like cartoon skits, popping eyeballs, jealous family dog.

While Mommy (Traylor Howard) goes on a business trip, the baby and the dog compete for the dad's attention and smash up the house. When the film finally starts moving, 30 minutes after the opening credits, we're relieved to see more of Alan Cumming as the Nordic god behind the mask's power. But Cumming alone cannot reproduce the antics and offbeat wit that made The Mask a treasured homage to the golden age of 'toons. Screwball cartoonist Tex Avery is probably rolling - or twisting like a cartoon tornado - in his grave. (JL)

Turtles Can Fly, Constantine and Son of the Mask
open Friday, Feb. 18

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