U.S.A.

Thursday, 8:15 p.m., Saturday, 10:30 p.m.

The thumping, hard-sell, shotgun-blast-approach message of "The Bible and Gun Club" is not for those with delicate ears who thought David Mamet's "Glengarry Glen Ross" hard to take. Besides trash language there is the battery of gunshots and personal degradation.

They might consider this film to be for fans of masochism of the type touted by one of the dinosaur-age salesmen of the Bible and Gun Club Company who slam themselves from door to door pushing elaborate Bibles and lethal weapons as a package deal. Included in the package is radical racism and sexism most foul.

The salesmen are at the end of their line in almost every way and the company convention in Las Vegas, where the film climaxes, could demolish them.

The film, by Daniel J. Harris, is done in a pseudo-documentary fashion gone amok, and as such one can say that it is bold and brash or just balderdash. The film does deal with reality but does it in such an obvious way and at times so amateurishly it stretches believability too far and can be seen as pandering to its own finger-pointing.

One must bend to its stylization and credit the filmmaker for the intended message. However, I think the good ol' boys (as was the case with the Archie Bunkers) may just enjoy it all . . . a whole lot.

U.S.A.

Friday, 8:15 p.m., Saturday, 9:45 p.m.

Plodding over all too familiar territory in Brooklyn, "Layin' Low" retells the story of idling young men getting in the way of trouble and eventually getting struck down by it. As a comedy-drama this movie's streets aren't as mean as Martin Scorsese's, and the not-so-wise guys aren't as dopey as the "Bowery Boys," and since neither aspect is very sharply drawn, the movie is dulled by edgeless deja vu.

Trying to sharpen the image are Jeremy Privan as Jerry Muckler, a 33-year-old loafer (who does, however, make a mean meat loaf), and Frank John Hughes as Christy, Jerry's OTB-addicted pal (who, as tradition has it, appears to be a likely candidate for TB and other life-threatening stumbling blocks). And there is Louise Lasser as Jerry's mother and Marilyn Dobrin as his girlfriend, all performing well in this bad-news comedy, but most of the talk is too small and their work suffers.

Since Jerry Muckler maybe wants to be a writer, I assume the film is somewhat autobiographical; therefore, we get characters that were meaningful to the screenwriter-director, Danny Leiner, but to us they have the distance of "you had to be there," and others that are just too trite to intrigue. As is the progression of events: the drug deal gone wrong, the need to "lay low," and the eventual wrecking reckoning.

U.S.A.

Friday, 6:30 p.m.

Viewers be warned: In order to appreciate this low-key but visually exciting documentary, you need to have at least a rudimentary knowledge of the film's subject. In other words, "Philip Johnson: Diary of an Eccentric Architect" is not, heaven forbid, a run-of-the-mill educational documentary.

Significantly, what you need to know beforehand about the 90-year-old American architect is pretty much what Barbara Wolf has elected to omit from her film. Thus, for example, there is next to nothing about the skyscrapers that made him famous, and there is no hint of the various controversies surrounding the man - in regard, first of all, to his notorious flirtation with fascism.

Nor does the film grapple with such pertinent issues as the growing consensus among his peers that his work went into decline once he had abandoned the International Style of his mentor, Mies van der Rohe.

Not that I'm complaining about these omissions - far from it; what Ms. Wolf has given us is a deceptively simple film that takes us on a fascinating tour of Mr. Johnson's New Canaan, Conn., estate. Here, for the past 45 years, beginning with the widely publicized Glass House of 1949, he has been engaged in designing and building what might prove to be his most lasting works.

On the other hand, do these playful, idiosyncratic structures merely offer further evidence that Philip Johnson is, as has been charged, a decadent dilettante with no architectural style of his own? Even here, away from the concerns of a high-powered career, he is controversial.

What grounds this unpretentious, casually structured film is the footage showing us how the architect's final building was conceived and constructed. This is the structure that will serve as the Visitors Center when, after the architect's death, the estate is turned over to the National Trust for Historic Preservation.

Based on an abstract sculpture by Frank Stella, who appears briefly, it is the most extreme and daring building in the New Canaan complex. In vivid detail, Ms. Wolf's camera captures the excitement of creativity, providing the viewer with a rare glimpse of a work in progress, step by step.

As for Mr. Johnson, he emerges in this hour-long documentary as a man of awesome self-confidence. But above all, we sense his extraordinary energy, still at full throttle. Whatever his place in the history of contemporary architecture, he remains a force to be reckoned with.

U.S.A.

Thursday and Friday, 6 p.m.

"Mugshot" is a strange, and sometimes beautiful, film with many things going for it. It's a first film for its writer-director-editor-cinematographer, Matt Mahurin, and a rousing start.

There are a few too many twists and turns in the story line, which basically is about a scam, double scam, even triple scam. A white photographer out to do a story on Harlem finds himself in an abandoned loft with no memory, wearing blood-smeared clothes and one shoe. He is "befriended" by Rumor, a black man, also a photographer, who chronicles his own life and what he knows about Chris, his alter ego (whom he has dubbed "Joe"), in celluloid.

Early on, Rumor sets the tone when he sardonically says, "If it's not too much hassle for me, I'll get you back to your rightful owner."

It's a gripping tale, though sometimes confusing. Mr. Mahurin comes to film from music videos, traces of which are very much in evidence in this film. I'm not sure whether or not to take this film as seriously as it may have been meant. I did find it disturbing to hear street-smart talk from Rumor's baby sister, who sounds as if she is ripe for gang life at the tender age of eight or nine.

There are lovely shots of much of New York, but the film doesn't show Harlem in a loving light, focusing as it does on its grimiest aspects.

U.S.A.

Today, 4:15 p.m.; Friday, 6:30 p.m.

"Bastard Out of Carolina," the film version of Dorothy Allison's critically acclaimed novel about growing up poor in South Carolina in the 1950s, is stirring up controversy because it contains brutally realistic scenes of child abuse.

Ted Turner financed the made-for-television movie and gave Anjelica Huston her first chance to direct. He screened the final result and dropped it like a hot potato. Reports are that his wife, Jane Fonda, screamed when she watched certain scenes. Which begs the question, what did he expect? Didn't anyone at Turner Television read the script, or the book? Because "Bastard" is a faithful rendition, down to the first-person voice-over narrative by Laura Dern.

It stars a relatively restrained Jennifer Jason Leigh as Anney Boatwright, mother of the bastard of the title. Anney's illegitimate first daughter is dubbed "Bone" by her Uncle Earl, who looks at the newborn and says, "She ain't no bigger than a knuckle bone."

Twelve-year-old Jena Malone is heartbreaking as Bone. The love between mother and daughter is wide as the screen, which makes Daddy Glen, the sadistic man who marries Anney and comes between them, a villain par excellence. Ron Eldard plays the weak man who takes out his frustrations on his stepchild.

But no, this is not gratuitous violence. It's how it is for too many children today. Directed by an actress who understands the power of emotion. Played by an ensemble of women who show on their faces how generations have endured poverty, abuse, and the struggle to find love. Glenne Headley and Diana Scarwid are strong as Bone's aunts, as is Grace Zabriskie as the matriarch of the family who can tell there's something wrong with Daddy Glen with just one look.

U.S.A.

Thursday, 8:45 p.m.; Saturday, 6 p.m.

Snatches of overheard conversation, party repartee, odd street encounters, adolescent dreams of sexual and windfall success tossed haphazardly into the "Let's make a movie" genre all make "Milk and Money" a mess of a film.

The boring escapades of a "20s nothing" medical school dropout caught up in a preposterous plot that involves his parents, two chance and supposedly mysterious encounters with succulent girls at a chic park corner in Manhattan, one's rich uncle, his herd of cattle ensconced in his New York apartment, and his nubile Ph.D. mistress lead nowhere but to painful and unfulfilled waiting for something worth watching.

A few supposedly cute lines, "He hasn't touched me since he bought his computer," or the engaging, accomplished Peter Boyle as a homeless authority on Texas cattle economics are not relief enough from the tedium of the flabby story and generally mindless performances, direction, and editing.

U.S.A.

Thursday, 8:30 p.m., Saturday, 7 p.m.

"The Cottonwood," or "Woody's Dream," is a bright, witty, lightweight comedy, charmingly told by Steven Feder, a first-time director who also wrote the screenplay.

A bunch of would-bes (or perhaps Woody-bes) sit around in a diner and dream of making a hit movie, capturing our attention and our sympathy as they plot and plan to make the movie of the year. We learn to love them, and to yearn for their success.

The plot revolves around the lottery, which the group of has-beens or about-to-becomes participate in. They win. And then they must decide how to invest the spoils.

My favorite line is the one delivered by the black producer who comes to the rescue of the fumbling filmmakers. He says of his brother, "Hey, who can't make it in the bagel business?"

U.S.A.

Friday, 8:45 p.m.; Saturday, 6:45 p.m.

A provocative exploration of the lives of three L.A. cab drivers working for one cab service and competing by hustle or fist with all others. Without delving too deeply into the background of the men or their families we are shoved headfirst into their conflicted personalities, dreams, and delusions.

In the confrontations between customer and driver, the garish city, at least the seedy ugly part, is grotesquely revealed - angry, racist, and driven. Poverty is just part of the picture. The writer finds, even among the successful, only the despairing and disaffected.

Everything takes place within Christmas week and the maniacal L.A. Christmas decor is the illuminated backdrop. Unfortunately, awkward cuts and problematic lighting often detract from the intended effect.

The three leads give hard-edged performances of heightened yet credible characters and hold the audience to their individual tales. Another eye might have cut out repetitive incidents which too often turn intended dramatic detail into no more than a laundry list. Unlike Jim Jarmuch's film about taxi drivers and their customers, each a short story unto itself, these tales are roughly entwined by their owner's garage and marketplace.

Despite the need for a cut, Shoob does a remarkable job of scripting and directing clearly defined characters both phlegmatic and volatile - at a loss in an unforgiving city.

U.S.A.

Sunday, 6 p.m.

Sensitive exploratory performances by Gena Rowlands, Marisa Tomei, and Gerard Depardieu in a "coming of age" script directed and co-written by Nick Cassavetes are an entertaining delight. The unique element is that without sentimentality or excess we experience the maturing of a woman in her late 50s whose children have finally left the coop.

Mildred (Gena Rowlands), whose son is married, whose daughter lives with her in a contentious relationship, is called upon by her battered neighbor, Monica (Marisa Tomei), to help care for her young son (Jake Lloyd).

In these roles both women reveal spirited and engaging personalities; Rowlands' benign, imaginative, and intelligent mother begins to blossom again with the care of taking duties - ball playing, storytelling, or teaching. Marisa Tomei reveals a tenacious woman whose mercurial behavior and vulgar mouth belie her instinctive intelligence and pragmatic optimism.

Each serves the other, with Monica reintroducing the widowed Mildred to the world of available men. All the performances, including that of the child actor, are believable and affecting without a moment of touchy-feely or cloying-clawing tension. Though overlong, neither the extended storyline nor an erratic and at times awkward score can seriously detract or spoil the strength of the theme, the joyful controlled performances, the talented direction, editing, and cinematography.

Atilla Ozturk now leads the Montauk Locals surfcasting tournament with a 33-and-a-half-pound striped bass he caught on Sunday, a day that also had him casting alongside tuxedoed members of a wedding party that had been interrupted by a blitz of big bass on the beach at Gurney's Inn, Montauk.

The bride reportedly was formerly on the staff of The Fisherman magazine, so it would follow that members of the wedding party might be distracted by the sight of bass in the 25 to 30-pound range being dragged onto the beach by surfcasters. Fred Galofaro and Tom Melton, both editors at The Fisherman, were said to be among the well-dressed casters.

For Mr. Ozturk, it had begun earlier at Gurney's, where he works. His shift was over and his replacement called to beg for some more time. He made the mistake of saying that he needed a little extra time as the bass were thick in front of the Surfside Inn. Mr. Ozturk's answer was "no."

Wedding Distraction

Instead, he headed for the bass himself, arriving at the beach in front of Surfside to see a young girl beach a 30-pound fish. A few casts later he had his 33-and-a-half-pounder, which he placed on the roof of the veteran surfcaster Jack Yee's truck. There it stayed, flapping around occasionally, as Messrs. Ozturk and Yee traveled west with the school of fish until they reached the beach in front of Mr. Ozturk's workplace.

Before long the wedding party caught wind of the exceptional bass fishing and was distracted. As of yesterday, Fred Kalkstein's 30-and-three-quarter-pound striper and Paul Melnyk's 30 and-a-half-pounder lined up second and third behind Mr. Ozturk's wedding-day bass.

Super Surfcasting

In other news, the Walker's Cay Chronicles crew was expected to arrive in local waters this week in hopes of capturing some of the East End's red-hot fall fishing on film. The Chronicles, which appears on cable networks, is considered the most popular sportfishing show in the country. Bob Popovics, creator of the popular silicon flies he calls "surf candy," is scheduled to join the show's host, Flip Pallot, in search of bonito and false albacore off Montauk.

Freddie's Bait and Tackle in Montauk reports "just super" surfcasting this week on both the north and south sides of Montauk, especially the south side. A mix of bass and bluefish were hitting the beach on Tuesday morning from Montauk to Indian Wells, Amagansett. Blues were in the six to eight-pound range. The bass were of similar size with some bigger ones in the mix.

On Sunday, evidence of the feeding schools could be seen along Montauk beaches in the form of four-inch silver, green, and blue anchovies scared out of the water and left high and dry.

On the bay side, Harvey Bennett of the Tackle Shop at Skimhampton reported piles of bass south of Barnes Landing whenever the wind blows from the east. He added that a friend fishing on the ocean side near White Sands (on Napeague) caught a 37-pound striped bass on the weekend.

Seining For Science

The continuing success of the Lazy Bones party boat seems typical of the great fishing that boating fishermen are experiencing around Montauk Point. The Bones reports working on bass and bluefish in the rips off the Point, with bass up to 33 pounds being taken on the diamond jig.

For the ninth year in a row, Victor Vecchio of the State Department of Environmental Conservation is collecting bass via ocean seine for an ongoing striped bass population study. The seining is being done by Jens Lester and his crew. The crew has made 10 sets since beginning this year's survey on Sept. 24 and has 44 more to go.

As usual, bass caught in the survey seine are measured, weighed, and tagged. Scale samples are taken to determine age and the fish are returned to sea. This season, the team is sampling weakfish as well. So far 70 weaks in the 24 to 28-inch range have been tagged and released.

Altenkirch's Precision Outfitters in Hampton Bays reports surfcasters using live bait - porgies and eels on the east bar outside the Shinnecock Inlet. Offshore of the Inlet, sea bass and porgies are being caught. Inside the inlet itself anglers can still find some flounder and some small blackfish.