The Student Center expansion promises to offer future space for new resources and services. Currently, however, the infrastructural mess of machinery and metal offers little more than frustration to many of the center's stores. For Food Co-op employees, is not merely an inconvenience, but also a purported blow to sales and revenue that has allegedly been overlooked by university administrators.

Will Parson/Guardian
John Muir College senior Adam Calo, an employee of the Food Co-op, stands amid construction areas outside the business. According to Co-op employees, construction has severely impacted revenues and caused intermittent obstructions in water supply.

Employees from the Food Co-op, a student-run organization offering healthy meal alternatives to corporate food chains, have reported that the collective has experienced extensive problems, both financial and logistical, due to the surrounding construction. These difficulties include a significant reduction in space, blocked kitchen access, decreased foot traffic outside the store and, most notably, intermittent lack of basic utilities such as water.

Consequently, Food Co-op employees said their business has seen a significant drop in already minimal profits.

""The construction is the toughest thing facing the co-op right now,"" Food Co-op accountant and Earl Warren College senior Matt Salerno said. ""Our net profits are 60 percent of what they were last year at this time.""

Will Parson/Guardian
Customers wait in line to make purchases at the Food Co-op. Construction around Student Center has led to reduced foot traffic to the area's businesses.

The employees had expected construction to be finished by Feb. 22 - as promised by administrators - but no longer anticipate its completion in the near future.

According to interim University Centers Director Paul Terzino, the construction was delayed due to unexpected plumbing conditions and underground electrical wiring. He estimated that construction will be finished sometime in late April.

""It's not even close to being finished,"" Salerno said. ""Right now the date of completion is up in the air and it's doing more harm than good.""

The absence of a kitchen has impacted the co-op's ability to produce prepared foods. As a result, its temporary sale of exclusively vendor-provided food has made employees especially resentful of the construction.

""We don't have the means of producing the amount of food that we used to, so the food doesn't look as good and it's not as appealing to people,"" Food Co-op employee and Sixth College junior Rikki Cunningham said. ""Of course, we have a loss of revenue because we normally generate more money from the food that we make than from [that] of our vendors.""

The construction has also resulted in a sporadic interruption of water supply to the Food Co-op, forcing it to utilize the water source from its satellite location in Price Center.

""We have to do dishes in our other location, so oftentimes we can't offer dishes to our customers,"" Food Co-op employee and Thurgood Marshall College senior Ian Morrison said. ""Instead, we offer them disposable products that cost more money and produce more waste.""

Workers at the Food Co-op say the profit loss caused by affected water supply necessitates contractually mandated compensation from the university, but they have been unable to reach a compromise with administrators.

""[UCSD administrators] try to work with us a little bit, but they look at us as a student organization,"" Cunningham said. ""They don't look at us like we know what we're doing. We do - we've read the space agreement and we have a lawyer.""

Section 7 of the Retail Cooperative Space Agreement requires rent relief if ""interruption in utility services"" occurs due to renovation. Terzino said the university provided 30 days notice of these interruptions, as mandated by the RCSA. Furthermore, despite the inability to access food production areas, Terzino maintained that the Food Co-op's sales floor and offices have remained operational during renovation.

""A rent reduction of 50 percent has been given to the Food Co-op while the production area is closed for renovation,"" Terzino said in an e-mail.

Salerno disputed the rent reduction, and said that the offer, which was made approximately a month after construction began, has not yet been accepted by the Food Co-op.

""We talked to them about a variety of different offers concerning rent, and we, as a group, have not decided on the one that we will pursue,"" Salerno said.

Regardless of whether these offers are accepted by the Food Co-op, Terzino said that Section 7 of the RCSA only pertains to rent relief when utility interruption forces a store to close.

""The intent of Section 7 of the space agreement concerning utility interruption is if utility interruption forces a co-op to close,"" Terzino said. ""The partial utility interruption at the Food Co-op did not force them to close.""

However, the text of Section 7 does not explicitly dictate that the university will provide rent relief only when a store is forced to close. It states that if utility interruption takes place over a period of four hours, the ""monthly rent … shall be reduced by one-thirtieth,"" and one additional thirtieth for each day the interruption persists.

Despite difficulties caused by lack of essential utilities, crucial details - specifically, those concerning the number of days that the Food Co-op has operated without utilities - have not yet been presented to the administration, Terzino said.

Although employees are upset by difficulties they associate with construction, their negotiations with administrators have not become truculent.

""At the end of the day, the administration has been helpful and responsible in working with us,"" Morrison said. ""We're not trying to be antagonistic with the university, but our goals and their goals in the way we operate sometimes conflict. We like to solve these conflicts as peacefully as possible.""

While the construction is potentially responsible for a significant impact on Food Co-op earnings, the slumping sales have also been affected by the recent opening of the store's offshoot Price Center location. Apart from raising the prices of sold goods to offset lost revenue, workers reported forfeiting personal gains in an attempt to alleviate the store's mounting debt.

""We're careful in writing down our hours - sometimes I'd rather volunteer the shift I'm supposed to be working than pay myself for the shift because we're barely scraping by,"" Cunningham said. ""The co-op is our main priority at this point.""

Food Co-op employees described their organization as one of many that have been negatively affected by construction.

""Every student organization in the old Student Center is experiencing these conflicts,"" Cunningham said. ""The General Store Co-op is losing money because of loss of foot traffic. The Bike Shop got moved.""

However, workers from other Student Center businesses have not reported the same extent of losses due to renovation.

""There hasn't been a big dip in terms of customers, although the outdoor seating area has less people because of the noise,"" Grove Caffe employee and John Muir College senior Jason Grishkoff said. ""We have the same customer base. Not many new people come along because not many people have heard about the Grove in the first place.""

While other stores may face impending losses, they have not described the same degree of fiscal decline as those suffered by the Food Co-op. Additionally, the student-run General Store Co-op is more hesitant in linking profit loss solely to construction difficulties.

""I don't think we are [losing profit] as of yet,"" General Store Co-op employee and Muir junior Lindsey Tan said. ""We wouldn't be sure whether we were losing revenue because of the construction, because we just hired new people or because minimum wage just increased.""

Construction problems aside, student-run organizations agree that their overarching problem stems from a general lack of campus awareness. The Food Co-op asserted that, because construction physically complicates entrance to their store, the lack of interest or knowledge regarding student-run organizations within the student body is intensified.

""One of the struggles is getting students involved - we exist to offer alternatives to students,"" Morrison said. ""[Collectives] foster interaction between people beyond buying and selling, beyond teacher and student - it's an interaction gained when people are cooperating for a common cause.""

I've never been a sports fanatic like my roommates. They can rattle off any sports stat, from baseball to tennis, citing almost any game in history while monitoring every minute detail of the players, coaches and commentators. Needless to say, when they got into the fantasy sports drafts, it was far out of my league.

I, on the other hand, am a film nut - while they can spout home runs and touchdowns, I speak in purely filmic language: directors and writers, camera angles, artistic design, musical scores, etc. - it's an addiction.

So, naturally, it was a shock to hear from IMDB that a new draft site had opened up: www.fantasymoguls.com, where they ask the billion-dollar question: Can you choose successful films better than the studios can? I wouldn't be ""drafting"" based on free throws or assists; I could draft for my own studio based on the credibility of talent behind each film and the essential ability to discover a great project.

There are two ways of playing Fantasy Moguls: a basic version, where you draft films based on how much cash you expect them to earn or, my personal favorite, the advanced version, which factors in bankability, critical reviews and the amount of people in each theater. The latter proves a true challenge, forcing you to branch out beyond the blockbusters and look at the indies, which are often the big winners among advanced players (during the last draft it was the small foreign flick ""Volver"" which gave some drafters the silver bullet). And the unpredictability of the session adds to the aura of the game - films that appear to be big winners may turn out to be box office duds (that happened to me three times last draft) or vice versa.

The Web site has expanded considerably since it launched last fall, now covering the winter movie season, and is about to head into the long spring/summer haul from March to September. I'll be playing - realizing now that there's no difference between knowing sports or cinema in-depth, or for that matter music, history or architecture. Knowledge is knowledge, only with everyone's personal touch.

Ever wish somebody would have slipped Mozart some acid? With their fourth official project, French duo Air attempt to reconcile modern electronica with symphony-hall sheet music, achieving a delicately novel antiquity by looping their already sparse, arpeggioed beats into an acoustic guitar-and-piano orchestra.

Pocket Symphony is a departure from 2004's acclaimed Talkie Walkie, spotlighting nude instrumentals over poppy synthesizer and sound-board pump. The album's milder aesthetics are still classic Air - a melodic dream-trip with a computer-generated soundtrack - but at a slower, more methodical pace. The pair further simplify their lives by skimping on the vocals (a third of the songs are purely instrumental), a haunting godsend to tracks like ""Mayfair Song"" but an elevator-music ultimatum for others - ""Space Maker"" requires an attentively active listen to avoid completely fading into the background.

The most engaging moments occur during the voice-sprinkled ""Mur du Japon"" and ""Napalm Love,"" jolting the listener awake after the meandering tinker of the majority of the album. But the overall sleep-inducing ambience is not necessarily a drawback - because sometimes a pleasant musical haze is the only answer to a rainy day.

As ""dead"" as the Wu-Tang legacy is declared to be, the hip-hop collective's growing swarms of underground worker-bee offspring don't seem to be getting the message. Latest case in point: RZA's prodigious new ""Wu-Element"" (producer) Bronze Nazareth, who - as if the family tree hasn't sprouted enough branches - has picked up three hitchhiking twigs off the streets of Detroit to form a fresh-faced mini-clan of his own, self-assuredly titled the Wisemen. Their mission is an admirable one, if overambitious: revive the raw, beats-rhymes-life purity of hip-hop's golden era at the dawn of the '90s.

Yeah, right. But Nazareth is one of the most promising hands behind the new age of always-stellar Wu beats, and his most recent - in a royal march of sawing strings, chirp-cut soul samples and jumping heartbeats - are no exception.

However, if these wide-eyed hopefuls want to come anywhere near the minimalist genius of the golden-age greats they so admire, they're going to need a far better tutor - Nazareth, for all his musical prowess, goes bland and sloppy behind the mic, clumsily recycling the spiritual/militant flow and lyrical fodder of his forefathers. A student can't surpass his master; likewise, Nazareth - whose 2006 solo debut The Great Migration showed some promise - is dragged down by amateurs, a second-grader in a first-grade classroom. Even top-notch guest listers Killah Priest, Vast Aire and GZA (crammed into the beginning of ""Associated,"" tripping over a messenger-trumpeting sonic gallop) offer no more than sloppy seconds. In this noble fight, the Wisemen may actually be digging the Wu grave that much deeper.

2 1/2 Stars

From the onset of Neon Bible, with the apocalyptic guitar and stealthy drums of ""Black Mirror,"" the Arcade Fire make their new territory clear - a bleak and dogged universe where the mere act of waking up requires some bravery.

The human/machine dynamic of the band's debut was a headphone junkie's surround-sound paradise, stacked with catchy hooks aplenty and enough lyrical depth to get at least a few midnight conversations going. In this album, we see a shift: Rather than focusing on the ties that bind, the Arcade Fire branch into a global adventure void of hope. Neon Bible takes the band's already soaring arrangements, adding everything but bagpipes and kazoos to reach more regal heights, including a full orchestra and even a spontaneous organ solo.

But the album's problem is that it's too epic. What made Funeral one of the best albums of 2004 was that it balanced sound: There were peaks and troughs and plateaus, all in paced subtlety. Here, nearly every song hits a point where the band feels it must prove its conviction by playing as loud as every other song, making for a worn effort in which the few songs that do tone it down - notably the title track - are all the more relieving. That's not to say there aren't some killer, heart-racing tracks: ""(Antichrist Television Blues)"" finds the band channeling the husky Bruce Springsteen machismo of the late 1970s while ""Keep the Car Running"" is an anthem for anyone who's ever had to skip town. Neon Bible neither takes the Arcade Fire back into familiar doldrums, nor does it propel them into a new level of epiphany - rather, theirs is a flawed search for identity after success.

3 1/2 Stars

If you have a stomach for brazen sex and violence - and this movie will put many to the test - then ""300"" is a visual feast more satisfying to the warmonger inside of you than anything before or after it for many years. Never has a movie utilized so much of the screen. Every inch of every frame is such a stunning masterpiece that we can safely give cinematographer Larry Fong next year's Oscar right now, without question. It's that impressive.

The Spartans are huge - absurdly huge. These burly goliaths, clad in Speedos and red capes, put Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger, even in his prime, to miserable shame. Each of the 300 men have a six pack that could grind a tank to dust - that's 1,800 packs of skull-crushing abs. The Persians just don't stand a chance. Hundreds of thousands are slaughtered on the tips of Spartan spears before a single Greco he-man dies. Half a dozen slow-motion rampages of blood-spraying carnage help the movie play out like a graceful ballet of gruesome maiming and horrible death. After the first few waves of Persian soldiers, the Spartans busy themselves by making a wall of corpses 20 feet tall, and the unlucky enemies keep on coming. But there's no reason to pity these lemming hordes: As in all good action flicks where untold scores of baddies must give up the Persians' ghosts to progress the plot, their faces are covered with long scarves, scary masks or full helmets.

The story is as simple as it gets: the bad guys are coming, and we're going to stop them, no matter the odds. There is a historical basis for the story: the Persian king Xerxes' failed campaign to conquer Greece, and the Greek play ""The Persians,"" by Aeschylus, about the cause of that defeat. But Frank Miller's ""300"" stands alone. Many characters are entirely fictional, and even the real ones take on comic-book proportions, from a Spartan traitor who looks like Quasimodo on steroids to a godlike Xerxes, who towers several feet over the tallest Spartan.

The Greek template for the story was political for its time, exemplifying a pivotal Greek victory as a showpiece for the consequences of hubris. ""300"" is no different, lacing every line of the movie's dialogue with political bias a la the current Iraq war. When not extolling the supreme value of freedom every chance they get, Director Zack Snyder's characters like reminding themselves of the cost of freedom with the repeated line ""freedom isn't free,"" and parallels with the Marine invasion of Iraq are palpable when the Persian campaign of terror arrives at the Spartan doorsteps and the Spartan king Leonidas (Gerard Butler) decides to lead an elite troop of hoplites to defend their country's freedom. But his fellow leaders disapprove of his brash actions. Sound familiar? There is even a climactic plea by the Spartan queen before an assembly of senators, begging them to send more troops.

Despite the unnecessary politics, the movie doesn't suffer because it remains true to its ultimate goal of providing its audience with an endless stream of kick-ass fight scenes and compulsory nudity. Unlike ""Gladiator,"" in which the plot drives the violence, the violence in ""300"" clearly drives the plot, and audiences seeking a serious look at war, or Greek history for that matter, should simply look elsewhere. ""300"" is really just about violence for the sake of violence, and nudity for the sake of nudity. If that's what you're after, then you can sit back and gorge on this visceral masterpiece.

No one involved in the movie has a very exciting resume. Snyder's only significant claim to fame was the absurd romp in zombie land that was 2004's ""Dawn of the Dead,"" and his co-writer Kurt Johnstad has nothing but forgotten independent films under his belt. Fong's only experience has been in television shows. But they came together to breathe amazing life into Miller's comic. The ""300"" comic book upon which this movie-theater powerhouse is based never received much acclaim, but it's going to leave a dent in box-office sales like few before it, and movie stills are going to litter laptop wallpapers across chemistry classes for years to come.

It's the chief indicator of a clever creative mind - only the best writers can take a story and personalize it, while somehow preserving the work's core sensibilities. Fanboys will remember Frank Miller for his dark and heavy brutalization of notable characters Daredevil and Batman, but even those revolutionary makeovers were primers for the graphic novelist's latest comic-turned-film yarn: ""300.""

I consider the blood-drenched opus - following the inevitable death of a Spartan king in the Battle of Thermopylae, where his 300-man phalanx is outmatched by an invading Persian horde - to be Miller's most underappreciated work.

Yes, the author did modernize Batman. And yes, his ""The Dark Knight Returns,"" a dark and tortured take on an aged Bruce Wayne, did become the current normative understanding of the character.

But true Miller fans, especially the ones who live to see him operate in a creatively open arena, should sneer a bit at the writer's translation of the character; Miller left DC Comics after he published the graphic novel, complaining he was being handcuffed by the corporate comic world. For a writer so attuned to the sinister and violent sides of human nature, it was a shame to see a waste of that awareness.

However, Miller's reformation of Greek history (under the flag of indie publisher Dark Horse) has no similar scruples about carnality and violence. Half-naked Spartans patrol the scenic expanse of Greece, and swordplay often means the detachment of limbs, all illustrated by Miller himself in an off-center, edgy style.

Though blood and gore are the essence of ""300,"" substance and meaning provide a foundation for the carnage. Miller's knack for engaging dialogue and narrative asides maintains attention to the story itself. The source material is a perfect fit for Miller, a bluntly crude and character-based writer. The story's themes of glory, bravery and lost causes combine with a primitive wartime setting to form one of modern-day comics' best semi-historical pieces.

Before Curtis ""50 Cent"" Jackson started dropping quarters into his piggy bank, before Mike Jones held his dentist at gunpoint to chisel little diamonds into his grill, before crews gave themselves names like Cash Money Millionaires - before $100 bills grew on screen-imbedded trees, there was Erick and Parrish Making Dollars. The underdogs of the funkier, rock-fueled strain of hip-hop that kick-started in the late '80s, EPMD often get side-noted to simultaneous groundbreakers Run DMC and Public Enemy. But the rough-edged smooth of Strictly Business, their first, and definitely most awesome, record, has stood the test of time as the untouchable godfather of money-minded raps. And after five more albums, all with ""Business"" in the title (yes, that's called overkill), EPMD are still around to teach the blinged-out crazies a thing or two about the original hustle. Joining the pair is the more recently famed duo People Under the Stairs, known to pop a few wisecracks and bounce skits off the audience in between the heavy, labyrinthal beats and rhymes of their live show. EPMD will perform live with People Under the Stairs at the Belly Up Tavern on March 14.

There actually is something better than Akon and Bubba Sparx - but just as catchy - to blast at your dorm room dance party Sunday night! Diplo, short for Diplodicus (even wordly DJs had childhood dinosaur fetishes), chooses no favorites, weaving anything that catches his fancy - from foreign beats to UK garage/grime and top-40 - into the bumpin'-est bangers this side of Timbaland. Diplo can also be credited for the synthey dancehall of M.I.A.'s Arular, the straight-up sexiest dance album of the last two years. Diplo will perform live at the Casbah with Blondo do Role on March 11.

JDilla's art has seen more light in the mourning period since his 2006 death than life ever gave him, between countless live tribute sets and the release/re-release of everything he ever touched. Stones Throw Records has been a key player in this memorium, now reissuing the DJ's most experimental release - 2003's Ruff Draft - over two discs, including orginal rejects. Now imagine if he'd been shot! Stones Throw will hold a listening party for the reissue of Ruff Draft at Kava Lounge on March 9.

What's a cowgirl like you doing with such a small truck?"" asks Jim, the head honcho at the Media Checkout. He smiles at us tying down dolly tracks protruding from the already-overstuffed bed of my truck. It's Friday morning, and this is the last time Devin, Randy and myself (the small Friday crew) will pick up equipment and head out to Temecula before the rest of the cast and crew arrives. I am inwardly ecstatic.

Rewind to a few years ago: me, terrified of going inside the Media Checkout - I don't know what the equipment is called or what it's for, and the gruff student employees have no time for newbies. ""It's OK to be ignorant,"" says one of my film professors. ""But you must work to bridge that gap of ignorance.""

Skip back to this Friday: I waltz in with my cowboy boots on, I don't have to say my name or what I am here for, because the people at checkout already know. I smile mischievously at the students just beginning, clutching their checkout forms while we stand next to our truck, roped and weighed down with hundreds of pounds of equipment. These are the kind of moments that interest me - moments of aftermath, where scenes drip with that invisible ghost of action that has led up to this moment. You can see the traces of movement, the invisible marks of my hands on the windowpane, Randy's sweat on the truck bed and Devin's fingers tying the rope, all intangibly marking the struggle that preceded this end product. This is, in part, what the world of my film is about: characters living in an aftermath. But this is also a parallel for the process of filmmaking. Film is an end-product, nothing more than two-dimensional ghosts existing in a frame, referencing the moment that existed at one point in time when these images were recorded on tape.

Cut to a few hours later, in Temecula. I hold the camera while Randy and Devin throw logs into the water to simulate the truck crashing in - but the log keeps floating back into frame like an albino alligator. ""We should just drive the truck in the water,"" says Randy. ""Yeah, I guess we could,"" I respond. Ten minutes later, the back tires are spinning out of control, hopelessly stuck in the mud.

Back up five days: Paul is spraying a violent storm of white powder from the fire extinguisher to put out the fire creeping up the side of the wooden shack we're filming. Fast forward one day, Steven is yelling on top of the truck because I've slammed his hand in the closed truck door.

Rewind a few hours and the sound of shattering glass rings in the canyon as Josh does a somersault down the side of a rocky hill.

Fast forward to six days and five guys with hardhats are pushing the Volkswagen van up a hill; it's my crew, my dad and my cousin, acting the role of construction workers, but we are not filming. We can't get the key in the cantankerous ignition, so for every take where the van goes downhill, they must push it back up under the midday sun.

Skip to the last Sunday. ""Dad, what's the best way to cut a glass bottle evenly?"" A moment later my dad is raising an axe up while I hold a glass bottle against cement.

Skip back to a quarter to midnight on President's Day, and we have been rehearsing and setting up lights in an old abandoned house for hours. Everyone has gotten very little sleep in the past two days, and it is starting to show; the camera operator is nodding off, the assistant director has his eyes closed, the actors are falling asleep in between takes. Coffee keeps coming in, but is having no effect. I am shouting and trying to pretend I could go on all night. I pick up a c-stand and it drops limply out of my hand. Every glance I get and word I hear is asking me to utter those three pleasant words … that's a wrap.

A slow fade in to an empty field. It's Saturday a week later, after the last shoot. I am back in Temecula by myself, filming forgotten shots. Holding the camera in one hand, a rock in the other, I am trying to scare some quails so they will fly up in front of the camera. It's so quiet, you can hear the wind in the grass and the distant sound of children playing. The clothesline has fallen down. The plates are all askew inside the van, next to paper shreds gnawed by mice, and outside I can see a tiny piece of purple fabric stuck in a cactus. It's another moment of comedown, of aftermath. No more Devin, no more Randy, no more Paul, Steven, Tricia, Mom, Dad, Tom, Josh, Jake, Norbert, Christie, John, Salomon, Adam. Just me in a field with a camera. Filming is done and now what's left to show for all the action are seven Mini DV tapes, holding all our efforts in their tiny digital ones and zeros, like phantasms trapped on electronic tape. This is film, a 2-D memory.

Whether it's the rubber costumes and visible zippers in the good ol' days of ""Godzilla"" and ""Creature from the Black Lagoon,"" the cartoonish, computer-generated imagery of modern horror films like ""The Relic"" and ""Anaconda"" or the cliched casts of dashing heroes, brilliant scientists and savvy female reporters, it's hard to take a monster movie seriously. But with his latest romp, acclaimed Korean writer/director Joon-ho Bong doesn't ask us to do so. Instead, he embraces the slapstick action and absurd heroism that most moviemakers try to disguise, resulting in what might be the most fun - and most honest - monster movie ever made.

Courtesy of Magnolia Pictures

To give the creature feature a fresh angle, Bong replaces the undefeatable monster with a clumsy animal and the dashing heroes with a family of buffoons. His clear affection for the genre spills into his work, adding an unabashed sincerity and that helps him bridge moments of terrible tragedy with campy comedy - a pairing that has rarely, if ever, been executed so successfully. But the emotional grip of the story never eases either, as one of the monster's victims, a young girl named Hyun-Seo, struggles to survive in the sewers while her family desperately tries to find and rescue her.

The family of half-witted protagonists is comprised of the genial grandfather, who runs a convenience store; his daughter, the bronze-medal-winning Olympic archer; his son, the unemployed grad student; and his other son, the half-retarded father of Hyun-Seo. When she's abducted by the beast, the government is too inept and the community too paranoid to do anything to help, so the endearingly flawed family of underachievers sets out to rescue her themselves.

Bong provides the film with an unflappable sense of humor, even amid the story's most grim moments. Soon after the monster emerges from the Han River and abducts Hyun-Seo, a mass funeral is held. While her family is sprawled on the ground in wailing grief, crying her name to the heavens, wallowing in abject misery and surrounded by the grieving families of countless other victims, the mourning is interrupted by a loudspeaker announcement asking the driver of an illegally parked car to please come to the parking lot. Then, a government official wearing a yellow hazmat suit steps in to announce the quarantine of everyone at the scene - as if things couldn't get any worse. But before the official goes in another word, he slips and falls - probably in a puddle of the tears from the bereaved - right on his ass. It's a strangely comfortable mix of sweltering pity and Marx Brothers humor.

Even the monster slips and stumbles in its pursuit of prey. And as the SUV-sized creature trips over its own feet, onlookers throw beer cans and government soldiers scramble to secure the quarantine, more concerned with containing any potential diseases the monster might carry than capturing or killing the ravaging beast.

There are only three Americans in ""The Host,"" all of whom are quite blunder-prone: the environmentally callous mortician in the opening scene (who creates the beast by dumping hundreds of bottles of formaldehyde into the drain simply because the bottles were dusty), an American sightseer (one of only two people ever to confront the monster) and a cross-eyed U.S. official who wants to perform brain surgery on Hyun-Seo's mentally deficient father because ""maybe that's where the virus is.""

Bong's film is more than a monster flick. It's a spoof on global hysteria and our relentless fear of an ever-approaching apocalypse in one form or another. As the four pathetic protagonists struggle to find the missing girl, they pass through a crazy world of frightened citizens clinging to surgical masks and bumbling government officials more frightened of pathogens than of the monster itself. Every character, flawed to the core, seems to fail in everything they do, but it's impossible to stop rooting for them. At times unbearably heavy - yet incredibly light-hearted too - Bong's satirical monster action/horror/comedy is a rare treat.