DON'T TELL ANYONE (No Se Lo Digas A Nadie). A beautiful Peruvian student must confront his macho father, his overly religious mother, and his doting girlfriend, before discovering his true sexual nature. Based on the best-selling novel by popular talk show host Jaime Bayly. Featuring Latin TV stars Santiago Magill, Christian Meier, and Lucia Jimenez. Official Selection: Latin American Film Series at Lincoln Center as well as The Los Angeles & Chicago Latin American Film Festivals.

The story of an English family emigrating to Austrailia.

If one were to gather the hundreds of books written about Ludwig van Beethoven, sift through each with a fine-tooth comb, and extract every simple mistake, wild speculation, and outright falsehood, the result would still be nowhere near as fabulous and artificial as this 1936 biopic, which rewrites the composer's life story into a throbbingly melodramatic tale of genius ignored and love unrequited. Director Abel Gance, best known for his expansive silent classic Napoleon, wasn't interested in the truth of Beethoven's life, but instead the romantic ideal of a great man tormented by history; Gance's Beethoven is merely a variation of the filmmaker's beloved Bonaparte, triumphant yet scorned by his inferiors in the artistic realm rather than the political. (Needless to say, among the film's many omissions is Beethoven's bitter rededication of the "Eroica" Symphony. ) Beginning where every portrait of Beethoven the man must, with the identification of the Immortal Beloved, the film nominates (wrongly) Giulietta Gallenberg, née Guicciardi, reconstructing their brief passion as a lifelong obsession. During each of Beethoven's struggles-with love, poverty, deafness-thunder cracks against the sky and the opening notes of the Fifth burst onto the soundtrack to punctuate the action. Meet the film on its own novelette-like terms, however, and it can be quite moving, not least for the magnificent presence of Harry Baur in the lead, who captures to perfection the tortured nobility the film foists upon its protagonist. Baur's conception is as outsized as Gance's, but also gentler and less sentimental; he humanizes what could have been a treacly salute to a marble statue. An unusual final credit places the actor's name alongside the director's, a touching admission by Gance at how indebted his film was to its star. -Bruce Reid The silent epic and international cinema legend Abel Gance is most celebrated for his sweeping and pioneering biography masterpiece "Napoleon. " But this touching and tortured document of the legendary Beethoven's creative genius deserves equal tribute and attention. [+]

In the hands of Kenji Mizoguchi (Ugetsu, Sansho the Bailiff), the simple story of a man redeemed by a woman's love is no less than profound. The Story of the Last Chrysanthemum pulls the viewer into a world of pure love, intense hear.

A slight but appealing dramatic comedy, My Wife Is an Actress explores the marital downside of fame. It's about the hazards of being married to someone-in this case the fine French actress Charlotte Gainsbourg, playing a fictionalized version of herself, also named Charlotte-whose profession and celebrity pose a constant threat to matrimonial harmony. The movie dispels the fantasy of a movie-star spouse (i. e. , would you really want to marry Julia Roberts?), exploring the reality with adequate humor but precious little insight. Gainsbourg's actual husband, Yvan Attal, is also her director and costar, playing Charlotte's sports-reporter husband (named Yvan), and turning jealous when she gets friendly with her current film's costar, played with world-weary charm by Terence Stamp. Surely this scenario was fascinating for French filmgoers, and as lightweight drama it's a pleasant enough diversion. Unfortunately, Attal discreetly avoids the deeper details of his life. Instead we get the shallow version, still authentic but not authentic enough. -Jeff Shannon.

French filmmaker Claude Lelouch continues to take critical heat for this 1966 international hit, which has been labeled "schmaltzy" and dismissed as overly stylized for its simple story line. While it certainly can't be mistaken for a masterpiece of the French New Wave (Lelouch was left in the dust that year by such wonders as Jean-Luc Godard's Masculin Feminin), A Man and a Woman has a jumpy impressionism that engages a viewer precisely because it cuts against conventional expectations of romance. Starring Anouk Aimée as a widowed "script girl" (working in film production) and Jean-Louis Trintignant as a racer who lost his wife to suicide, the film is really an objective sampling-almost a study-of moments between the time the two characters meet and the point at which they begin to read each other intuitively. Generous flashbacks fill in details on the pair's woeful, recent histories, while endless documentary-like glimpses of Aimée's and Trintignant's characters at work in their highly charged professions become a visual engine for the days passing between measured developments in love. Lelouch is more dryly humane than lush in his approach, though the film strains once in a while for a forced naturalism that can actually be more narcissistic than the most obvious romantic contrivance. Still, A Man and a Woman-in the best sense-is also a movie in love with itself, with its own ability to evoke and conjure and construct dozens of different ways of tracking a relationship in progress. If Lelouch doesn't exactly push open the boundaries of cinema as several of his filmmaking peers did at the time, he certainly enjoys what he's doing. -Tom Keogh.