THE WINSLOW BOY

On the surface, David Mamet’s new film, “The Winslow Boy,” is about justice. British justice. But beneath it all, Mamet has other things in mind, such as a film about passion. British passion.

Set in 1910, the film follows Ronnie Winslow (Guy Edwards), a young naval cadet accused of stealing a 5-shilling postal order from a classmate. Convinced he’s innocent, Ronnie’s father (Nigel Hawthorne) stakes the family fortune (not to mention the family’s psychological health) on the famous lawyer Sir Robert Norton (Jeremy Northam), who once fought for Oscar Wilde and who now uses his genius to save Ronnie in court.

What makes “The Winslow Boy” a must-see is how Mamet takes a conventional courtroom drama and twists it so most of the courtroom action happens off screen — including the ruling, which is handled superbly.

But this film isn’t just about the plight of poor Ronnie. Far from it. It’s also about getting his older sister, Catherine (Mamet’s wife, Rebecca Pidgeon), paired with an intellectual equal. That equal is Sir Robert, who ignites in Catherine a passion that isn’t exactly hot, but rather clinical.

Based on a true story, “The Winslow Boy” is a departure for Mamet, who is known for his in-your-face characters and spare, tough dialogue.

Those qualities are in evidence here, but they’ve been toned down to reflect the times. Indeed, Catherine and Robert are so cold and so aloof, so pretty and so uptight, their courtship plays out like a game of chess.

But which one is the Queen?

Grade: A-

INSTINCT

Apparently, the rumors about Academy Awards are true. They are like bananas in that they have a short shelf life, a fact very much in evidence in the new gorilla film, “Instinct,” which stars Academy Award winners Anthony Hopkins and Cuba Gooding Jr., two hard-hitting thespians who have slipped.

The film features Hopkins as Ethan Powell, a wild-haired anthropologist who left civilization to live among apes. Think of him as Dian Fossey cross-dressing as Charles Manson.

After murdering two rangers in Africa, he is shipped back to the United States and locked in an insane asylum, where he teaches his psychiatrist (Cuba Gooding Jr.) a few things about life’s illusions.

The film, which borrows shamelessly from “Gorillas in the Mist,” “Silence of the Lambs” and “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest,” doesn’t know what it wants to be — “The Silence of the Apes,” “Lambs in the Nest” or “Flying Gorillas in the Cuckoo.”

With the exception of one disturbing, well-done scene that features the slaughtering of gorillas, none of this comes together to form a cohesive whole. It’s just bits and parts of much better films.

Gooding and Hopkins have their moments, but Gerald DiPego’s script and John Turteltaub’s hackneyed direction undermines them at every possible moment. The instinct here is basic and so dreadfully slow going, one feels this film is less about apes, and more about sloths.

Grade: C-

ON VIDEO

GODS AND MONSTERS

In late spring 1957, when director James Whale was found face down in his Pacific Palisades swimming pool, his lungs may have been heavy with water, but his body was nevertheless impeccably groomed in a smartly styled suit.

The director of “Frankenstein” and “Bride of Frankenstein” chose to die as he had lived — with a measure of dignity underscored with drama.

Wittingly or not, he staged his death very much like the opening scene of “Sunset Boulevard,” which had premiered just seven years earlier and which loosely paralleled Whale’s life: It was a film about a person no longer wanted by Hollywood, something Whale knew a thing or two about as it was his unwillingness to conceal his homosexuality that ultimately ruined him.

Bill Condon’s excellent film, “Gods and Monsters,” answers the questions that for years swirled around Whale’s death: Whale, whose mind was turning with loneliness and despair, plunged headfirst into that pool and deliberately breathed in the water, ending what had been, in the 1930s, a celebrated life.

With Ian McKellan as Whale and Lynn Redgrave as his fiercely protective housekeeper, “Gods and Monsters” is an outstanding film marked by these two Academy Award-nominated performances, and another by Brendan Fraser that is sparked with humanity and understanding. Don’t miss it.

Grade: A-

PSYCHO

So, then — let’s dispense with the Gus work: Gus Van Sant’s shot-for-shot, line-by-line retread of Alfred Hitchcock’s “Psycho” is hardly a cut above the original. If anything, the experience is surreal, confounding, not exactly terrible, mind you, but also not unlike “Beatlemania” in its inept attempt to re-create the work of genius.

Unfortunately, this new “Psycho,” which Van Sant says he made in homage to Hitchcock, is essentially 100 minutes of nonstop mimicry — but there can be no looseness in such mimicry, no spontaneity or freshness, which hurts acting that feels staged because it is staged.

With Anne Heche as Marion Crane and Vince Vaughn, of all people, as the once birdlike Norman Bates, Van Sant’s “Psycho” may have been shot in color, but it should surprise no one that Hitchcock’s original, in spite of having been filmed in stark black and white, remains colorful in ways that Van Sant could only dream.

Grade: D

ON THE WEB

www.austinpowers.com

Oh, behave! If you can’t wait for “Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me” to swing into theaters tomorrow, then modem over to the film’s Web site, which features photos, the film’s trailer, music downloads from the new soundtrack, WAV sounds, Quicktime bites, and even groovy interludes that are as naughty as one of Powers’ spankings.

Well-designed and undeniably hip, this fun site is shagalicious.

Christopher Smith’s film reviews appear each Monday and Thursday in the Bangor Daily News. Tonight on WLBZ’s “News Center 5:30 Today” and “News Center Tonight,” he appears in The Video Corner.