They don't make ‘em like they used to because they don't have to. The technology now available to... um... them can certainly manifest in some thrilling cinema, but there is a cost (besides the theater prices, of course, long past prohibitive and careening toward unconscionable). Computer-generated orgies like "Harry Potter" or "The Lord of the Rings" are unable to evoke a tangible time and place, and this ultimately takes its toll on a movie's ability to resonate. The rub therein, however, lies in the fact that the names I just dropped are some of filmdom's highest-grossing efforts. So before you resume lamenting over how great things once were, go rinse that blood off your hands.

Acclaimed Russian filmmaker Sergei Bodrov made his Oscar-nominated "Mongol" like they used to. An earthy, sprawling epic, "Mongol" tells the tale of Temudgin, who we first meet in the year 1172 as the 9-year-old chooses a wife and loses his chieftain father, setting into motion events that leave him a lonely fugitive on the steppes of Mongolia. A resourceful fugitive, it should also be said, this gutsy young man is able to engineer escapes and avoid his sworn enemies for well over a decade, until the violent time comes to claim both his bride and his birthright as the tribe's leader, called a khan. Or, as his history would eventually come to know him, Genghis Khan.

Though there are a few noticeable gaps in the narrative, "Mongol" puts a human face on the near-mythic Mongolian horseman who ruled the largest contiguous empire the world will likely ever know. At times echoing a classic Hollywood Western, with its horse culture and theme of measured revenge, the ravishing "Mongol" also features tall grass and big sky, shot in a few of the more faith-affirming locales in Genghis Khan's former stomping grounds. Bodrov balances Temudgin's justified brutality with interludes of romantic domesticity that only seem tedious next to the urgent, lusty action. Accented by the stormy rumble of throat-singing from awesome Mongolian folk-rockers Altan Urag, gore and grit fairly fly off the screen as the massive combat scenes unfold old-school, without the aid of CGI.

Japan's magnetic Tadanobu Asano (Takeshi Kitano's "Zatoichi") portrays adult Temudgin - and may do so again; Bodrov envisions his Genghis Khan saga as a trilogy - while Chinese actor Honglei Sun (Zhang Yimou's "The Road Home") commands scenes as the warmly intimidating Jamukha, Temudgin's blood-brother and eventual rival. But despite Bodrov's maddeningly saintly take on Genghis Khan, some Mongolians are understandably miffed over their favorite son being played by a foreigner, one critic likening it to a Mexican starring in the Abraham Lincoln story. Clearly Mongolia hasn't experienced cinema's last major take on Genghis Khan, 1989's "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure," in which the legendary warrior totally ravaged Oshman's Sporting Goods. Evolution can have its merits.

It's merely rubber and gases, but cold is the heart that doesn't secretly flutter around a helium balloon. Albert Lamorisse's 1956 short "The Red Balloon" captured the magic to be had between a boy and his loyal polymer companion, and now Taiwanese filmmaker Hsiao-hsien Hou (he made 2005's ambrosial "Three Times") uses the inspiration and imagination of Lamorisse as a jumping-off point for his English-language debut, "Flight of the Red Balloon," a lyrical and languid fable about slowing down to appreciate life's simpler pleasures.

The startlingly blonde Juliette Binoche plays the frazzled Suzanne, who is coping with an absent man, deadbeat tenants, and a busy career in puppetry. She's hired a Taiwanese film student (and obviously our director's alter-ego) named Song to nanny for her son Simon, and "Flight" takes off when Song and Simon begin shooting their own Lamorisse homage, complete with red balloon. Hou favors fluid camerawork and extended takes in which nothing needs to happen, and his improvisational approach lights a fire under Binoche, as defiantly vulnerable as ever. Some might be bored by Hou's unhurried pacing, while others will be content to bask in his confident art. All, however, can appreciate the sight of a red balloon patiently waiting for a train. 

Mongol

(R), directed by Sergei Bodrov

Opens Friday at The Little

Flight of the Red Balloon

(NR), directed by Hsiao-Hsien Hou

Screens Saturday and Sunday, June 28 and 29, at the Dryden