Much is wrong and plain embarrassing about director Banderas' first feature, yet it's also likeable, sincere and eye catching. The tone, however, is dismayingly up and down (Almodóvar may get away with this, but Banderas doesn't). It's a nostalgic coming of age yarn about a boy growing up in the racist South in the mid-'60s, and his wacky aunt (Griffith), who chops off her husband's head and scoots off to Hollywood, where she makes an implausible starlet. Magic realism and black comedy sit uncertainly beside liberal platitudes, but it has some fine, high moments. (Adapted by Mark Childress from his own novel.) TCh.