The Boston International Film Festival plays this weekend and into next week at the AMC Boston Common. Not to be confused with the Independent Film Festival of Boston, the BIFF is more of a disorganized open-air market where indie filmmakers -- and I mean real indie filmmakers, not the people who made "Little Miss Sunshine" -- get to show their wares. You takes your chances, but attention must be paid to these labors of love, and you may discover a winner.

If you're in the mood for the cinematic approximation of a mojito -- tasty, ephemeral, not meaning a blessed thing -- "Ocean's 13" is your movie. Much better than the clanky, smug "Ocean's 12," and the series has the best villain yet in Al Pacino. I think Steven Soderbergh and George Clooney never actually stop making these movies; when one gets long enough, they just cut off a piece and ship it to theaters.

Another terrific Dan Klores documentary about weird New York hits the Kendall and the West Newton: "Crazy Love," about Burt and Linda Pugach (in photo above), who were a tabloid fixture in the late 50s and early 70s. Short version: He jealously had her blinded with lye, went to jail for 15 years, she married him when he got out. Just another happy Big Apple couple. Great movie, though, with an eerie respect for the mysteries of the heart.

Charles Burnett's "Killer of Sheep" finally gets a theatrical release, thirty years after it was made. One of the great lost African-American films is lost no more. It plays at the MFA, along with a selection of Burnett's short films.

Wesley's "Hostel: Part II" review runs today. He doesn't like it any better than David Poland does. (Meanwhile, reader Robert Angell emails me to wonder, "HereÂ’s what I donÂ’t get: a woman is hung upside down and gutted, it gets an R rating; full frontal nudity (the horror!), an NC-17, no matter how tastefully done. I just canÂ’t make sense of this." The answer's sad but simple, Robert. The ratings board, like much of America, feels more comfortable with violence than sex. They also know the studios know violence sells better.)

On the other hand: Harold Lloyd at the Coolidge on Sunday morning, with live musical accompaniment. Pull the kids out of church and take them. (For me, this is church.)

The Brattle is joining forces with the Harvard Coop for a "Reunion Weekend" line-up of classic movies. Sure, they're showing "Citizen Kane" and all, but if you have no other plans, you really owe it to yourself to head over tonight (Friday) for 1957's "Sweet Smell of Success," the most vibrantly nasty bit of Times Square melodrama ever made. Burt Lancaster is terrifying and Tony Curtis is, as Lancaster's J.J. Hunsecker calls him, "a cookie full of arsenic." (If you can't get to the theater, just read the screenplay.)

This has been up for a few days but I'll still link to it: Movie City News majordomo David Poland waxing apoplectic over "Hostel II," the latest horror-porn frag-bomb from director Eli Roth, that nice boy from Newton. Poland also blogs about the film, which allows his readers to post comments, 264 of 'em at last count and many of them peeling the art/shock/free speech onion in interesting ways.

Wesley just handed in his review of the film -- it'll run in tomorrow's paper -- and I'd be hard-pressed to call him a fan. On some level, that's what Roth's counting on: Mainstream outrage that will raise him up as a hero to the hardcore horror fringe. Me, I haven't seen "Hostel II" and don't really care to see it -- call me a bad movie critic, but watching Heather Matarazzo hung upside down and gutted for my pleasure just ain't something I want to watch, and I don't wholly comprehend why someone would want to watch it. (Seriously, someone enlighten me and I'll post their response.) But I'll have to if I'm going to comment any further.

William M. Gaines, the eccentric pulp/pop genius who gave the world horror comics and Mad Magazine, will be the subject of a new bio-pic, according to the Hollywood Reporter. The story will focus on Gaines' creation of E.C. Comics ("Tales from the Crypt," etc) in the 1950s and the subsequent media uproar, congressional hearings, and censorship.

Sounds great, but who do you get to play Gaines? Look at that mug. Shia LeBeouf if he gains 60 pounds? Maybe John Turturro has another brother stashed somewhere? Ah -- I have it: Jonah Hill. You loved him in "Knocked Up," the upcoming "Superbad" will pop him loose, and here's his chance to go serious. Whoever's casting this, thank me later.

Now if the movie shows the old Gaines, we'll probably have to call on Mel.