To be released tomorrow on DVD

Given its mixture of sexuality, mystery, and abrupt violence, it isn’t surprising that Charles Perrault’s story Bluebeard held a childhood fascination for director Catherine Breillat (Fat Girl, Romance). Given how concerned Breillat’s movies are with investigating primal urges through a string of metaphoric scenarios, they could almost be seen as fairy tales themselves, albeit of a fairly dense and recondite sort.

Breillat’s Bluebeard is effectively two interwoven stories: a relatively straightforward retelling of Perrault’s story, and a present-day thread in which two sisters (Marilou Lopes-Benites and Lola Giovannetti) read from Perrault’s book in an attic. But interpreting one as fairy tale and one as reality — or the contemporary story as a frame for the ancient one — is getting things precisely wrong: Each story is as true as the other. In a sense, the Bluebeard story itself is less important than the girls’ attraction to it. Modeling their interaction on her own childhood, Breillat casts the younger, more forthright sister as the narrator, toying with her older sister’s mixture of fear and fascination. Their eyes widen and their throats clench as the lure of Bluebeard’s forbidden chamber sucks them in.

The fairy-tale sisters resemble their present-day counterparts, although in the present-day story, the dark-haired sister (Lola Créton) is the headstrong one, while the redhead (Daphné Baiwir) recoils from the gargantuan Bluebeard (Dominique Thomas). Removed from their religious school after their father dies, the sisters and their mother face ruin unless one of the girls marries the notorious Bluebeard, whose many wives have disappeared without a trace.

The story progresses apace toward its blood-strewn chamber of horrors, but Breillat’s Bluebeard is almost benign, a loving husband who carries out his gory punishments with a tinge of regret. He isn’t too smart to be manipulated by his teenage bride, who picks a bedroom too small for her husband’s massive frame to squeeze into. Nor are their appetites so different: They tear with equal relish into a massive hunk of animal flesh that looks as if it’s had only a passing acquaintance with the cooking fire.

As with Breillat’s 2007 period piece The Last Mistress, Bluebeard is subdued and unadorned, almost plain. The decision to give both time frames the same look is conceptually of a piece, but it wouldn’t hurt if both were a shade more interesting to look at. But steering clear of fairy-tale frippery throws the whole piece into unfamiliar territory, which is no doubt just how Breillat wants it. Grade: A-minus

Other recent movies to be released tomorrow on DVD:

The Maid (2009) When Raquel’s (Catalina Saavedra) place in the Valdes family — for whom she’s provided 23 years of maid service — is threatened after they hire more help, she decides to do something about it. The movie’s narrative design is at once simple and complex, and more appealing than its smeary visuals, with their distracting washed-out colors and putty skin tones. (It was shot in high definition that looks closer to old consumer-grade video) There might be a rationale for the visuals (economics probably counts more), and you could argue this is an ugly world. But this grubbiness works against the movie, particularly because there’s more here than meets the eye. It takes director Sebastián Silva a while to finish his story, but the ending of The Maid is so intelligently handled and so generously and honestly conceived, it proves well worth the wait. Grade: A-minus

Green Zone (2010) U.S. Defense Intelligence Agent Clark Poundstone (Greg Kinnear) doesn’t want to hear what Army Chief Warrant Officer Roy Miller (Matt Damon) has to say about not finding the weapons of mass destruction — evidence that could launch a war — he’s been sent to Iraq to unearth. There is plenty of fighting in Green Zone, most of it executed with the hurtling hand-held camerawork and staccato editing that are hallmarks of director Paul Greengrass’s style. From Bloody Sunday through the second and third Bourne movies (which turned Damon into a minimalist movie star), this director has honed his skill at balancing chaos with clarity. Using locations in Morocco and Spain uncannily doctored to resemble the Baghdad we know from documentaries and contemporary television news feeds, Greengrass (decisively aided by the stroboscopic vision of his cinematographer, Barry Ackroyd, who also shot The Hurt Locker) choreographs foot chases and gun battles that unfold with the velocity, complexity and precision of a Bach fugue played on overdrive. Pedants may object that the chase sequences and plot twists distort the facts, while thrill-seekers may complain that the politics get in the way of the explosions and firefights. And the inevitable huffing and puffing about this movie’s supposedly left-wing or “anti-American” agenda had already begun before the film's theatrical release. All of this suggests that the arguments embedded within the movie’s version of 2003 are still going on seven years later, and are still in need of accessible and honest airing. Which is precisely what Green Zone, without forsaking its job of entertainment, attempts. When Greengrass made United 93, his 2006 reconstruction of one of the Sept. 11 hijackings, some people fretted that it was too soon. My own response to Green Zone is almost exactly the opposite: it’s about time. Grade A-minus

TiMER (2010) In this comedic fantasy, science has facilitated the search for a soul mate via biotechnological implants that count down to the moment one is supposed to meet his or her match. But Oona (Emma Caulfield) is worried: She’s nearly 30, and her TiMER isn’t ticking yet. Perhaps it’s nitpicking to scold writer-director Jac Schaeffer for adhering to the genre’s feel-good trappings, when a more rebellious auteur might’ve had Oona beeping in the presence of someone disabled, another woman, or a long-lost relative. The titular device draws attention from any heartfelt connections, and the film’s bland aesthetics and movie-cute cast kick up unsolicited nostalgia for many a ‘90s indie. A romcom is a romcom, however, and at least this one’s more charming than most of those in Jennifer Aniston’s career. Grade: B

The Good Guy (2010) Well aware of his own blessings, up-and-coming Wall Street star Tommy Fielding (Scott Porter) decides to mentor one of his co-workers, Daniel (Bryan Greenberg). All is going according to plan until Daniel befriends Tommy’s new girlfriend, Beth (Alexis Bledel) — at which point things go rapidly south for Tommy. The movie may feel a little behind the curve. But it is fresh enough to provide the voyeuristic kick of glimpsing the frenzied lifestyle of aspiring masters of the universe at a time when unlimited greed was rewarded with unlimited opportunity. An alternate title might have been Wall Street, Junior. The Boy Scout versus the cad is an old story, and the outcome of the competition is a romantic-comedy no-brainer. But the movie’s confident performances and its eye and ear for detail make The Good Guy a satisfying insider’s snapshot of a shark tank. Grade: B-minus

The Last Station (2009) Set during the last year of Russian novelist Leo Tolstoy’s life, this biopic explores the fractious relationship between Tolstoy (Christopher Plummer) and his wife (Helen Mirren), as he embraces a life of asceticism. Mirren and Plummer are wonderful together, and their portrayal of a long marriage — still fueled by physical desire nearly 50 years on — has a refreshing carnal zing. If the operatic emotional pitch ultimately proves unsustainable (not to mention tiresome), the film is full of captivating details. Most interesting is director Michael Hoffman’s depiction of the couple as the Brangelina of their age, their every movement noted and recorded by an entourage of acolytes, journalists, filmmakers and sundry hangers-on. Tolstoy himself remains an oddly blurry figure throughout, which may speak to the character’s genuine ambivalence; at its best, The Last Station vividly illustrates the enduring Russian gift for iconography, whether spiritual, secular or something in between. Grade: B-minus

She’s Out of My League (2010) When he starts dating drop-dead gorgeous Molly (Alice Eve), insecure airport security agent Kirk (Jay Baruchel) can’t believe it. As his friends and family share their doubts about the relationship lasting, Kirk does everything he can to avoid losing Molly forever. The movie might have been wiser to go for the surreal absurdity of early Woody Allen. Instead, it gives us some psychological blah-blah about how, under certain circumstances, a Molly might go for a Kirk. Moreover, scenes that should be grotesquely funny (man helps another man with his intimate grooming, or the appearance of a Hall & Oates cover band) deliver only chuckles rather than a big payoff. Worse, the movie is 15 minutes too long, slowing down in the final act to deliver lines like, “You were plenty good enough for me — you were just never good enough for you.” Thanks for the tip, Dr. Phil. Grade: C

Fuel (2009) With America so dependent on oil, filmmaker Joshua Tickell sets out to prove that biodiesel, made from vegetable oil, is a viable alternative. This documentary (winner of the Grand Jury Prize at Sundance) chronicles Tickell’s quest to popularize the untraditional fuel source, citing the environmental and economic advantages the country could reap by adopting it. Tickell’s unabashedly intimate, 11-years-in-the-making attack on America’s addiction to oil, is not so much a green documentary as a red, white and blue alarm. But if you can resist the urge to hit stop on the remote control, you may finish watching this DVD feeling a lot more hopeful than when you started. Thanks to an informative, buoyant tone and the director’s own restless intelligence, the film preaches to the unconverted with passion, energy and graphics so clear that they would make Al Gore weep all over his PowerPoint. Grade: C

Remember Me (2010) Still reeling from a heartbreaking family event and his parents’ subsequent divorce, Tyler Hawkins (Robert Pattinson) discovers a fresh lease on life when he meets Ally Craig (Emilie de Ravin), a gregarious beauty who witnessed her mother’s death. The movie manages to avoid gagging us with a spoon largely because Pattinson and de Ravin are so lovely together. They are wounded cutie-pies and nice kids, and when they are making soft-lit love in Tyler’s scummy apartment, you can almost forget your doubts over whether Tyler has ever washed his sheets or scrubbed his tub. It’s challenging to accurately assess Remember Me’s merits without discussing whether the end of the movie is grossly manipulative or fair use of wrenching emotional material. I’ll say this: if I had a daughter of impressionable age, I’d rather have her weeping over this mildly tasteless romance than the nonsense of Twilight. Grade: C