“Still, We Believe – The Boston Red Sox Movie” opens in Maine theaters today, so consider this fair warning.

After previewing Bombo Sports and Entertainment’s movie, which chronicles Boston’s memorable 2003 season primarily from the viewpoint of Red Sox fans, it didn’t take long to figure out the best way to describe the 110-minute film.

It’s like watching a car accident or even a train wreck, dealing with the aftermath, and letting time work its wonders on your emotional wounds and painful memories and then watching the whole thing all over again six months later – only this time through the eyes of those involved in the wreck.

That’s not to say this isn’t a good film. It has plenty of unique insights, amusing moments, and intriguing angles.

But they come with a price. How high the price is depends on how hard a Red Sox diehard you are.

If you’re still trying to come to grips with the stark disappointment that came with the way the seven-game emotional roller coaster known as the American League Championship Series ended, you may want to opt for Shrek 2 or Troy this weekend.

If you prefer to emphasize the highs over the lows and look at things less fatalistically, then you should be able to handle this just fine.

In a lot of ways, watching “Still, We Believe” is like looking in a mirror. How many Sox fans haven’t changed their T-shirts or shifted to a different chair in an effort to try and shift luck and/or the cosmic forces in Boston’s favor? You see a lot of that in this.

It’s hard not to find someone to identify with in this movie.

. There’s Angry Bill of Watertown, Mass., who’s a regular on the radio talk show call-in circuit and personifies the cursed, persecuted mindset of Red Sox fandom as a glass-almost-empty kind of guy.

. There’s Jermaine Evans of Brockton, Mass., whose father is a New York Yankees fan who never fails to tease his son about his beloved Sox.

. There’s Steve Craven, a fireman stationed at Engine 37 in Roxbury, Mass., who makes Sox games a family event.

. And then there’s Jessamy Finet of East Boston, Mass., who along with her fellow blonde Boston backer and best friend, wait in line for tickets every preseason, attend at least 20 games a year, and live and die with each pitch while cheering in thick Boston accents (think Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion meets Saturday Night Live’s Boston teens sketch with Jimmy Fallon and Rachel Dratch praising their hero, Nomahhh!).

The film opens with fast-forwarded, time-shifted footage of Fenway Park as it goes through pregame preparations to the last out on game day. It then shifts to various fans uttering observations on what it means to follow the Sox.

“It’s kind of like the woman who constantly treats you badly and you still stay with her … because you love her,” said one long-suffering Sox fan.

It then continues on through the 2003 season, starting with spring training at City of Palms Park in Fort Myers, Fla., to the regular-season opener to the home opener all the way to the cruel ending of the ALCS at Yankee Stadium in October. Remember, you were warned.

Everyone from Sox president and CEO Larry Lucchino to principal owner John Henry to general manager Theo Epstein to manager Grady Little and players like Kevin Millar and Derek Lowe are interviewed. Viewers are treated to behind-the-scenes footage like pre- and postgame locker room banter, interviews, and on-field action.

You even see former New York Mayor Rudolph Giuliani consoling Little after the Game 7 loss. One of the more poignant moments comes near the end when teammates gather around Tim Wakefield’s locker consoling him after the Game 7 loss. “It’s not your fault brother,” one player says. Players can be heard crying, fans are shown collapsed on the sidewalk while others simply gape in stunned silence.

“Grady Little is gonna lose his job. This is a nightmare,” Angry Bill says. “There is a curse. I was wrong.”

Then there are the glass-half-empty fans.

“We still have time. I’m talking about next year baby,” a lady says to her husband. “I’m a true fan.”

Andrew Neff can be reached at 990-8205, 1-800-310-8600 or at aneff@bangordailynews.net