MATTHEW BARNEY With blue Astroturf, athletic padding, oozing Vaseline, and a hexagonal video of Barney climbing the walls suspended like a giant gem, the grand finale of "The Cremaster Cycle" is a glamorous neo-rococo installation as well as a glacial survey of his prosthetic sculptures, photos, drawings, and extravagant films. It's got celebratory banners, funereal pomp, Masonic and Celtic emblems, testicular symbols, cross-species mergers, live birds, great physicality, and ungraspable meaning. Call it preposterous, mannered, brilliant, pretentious, or unresolved, it's absolutely American and the most ambitious art we've got. THROUGH JUNE 11, Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, 1071 Fifth Avenue, at 89th Street, 212-423-3500. (Levin)

DONALD MOFFETT His work has changed radically since his angry light-boxes from the early days of ACT UP, but Moffett is still a master of subterfuge and politicized sites. "The Extravagant Vein" opens with a diagram of the Rambles and a small green oil painting (subtitled Terra Verte) as spiky as cut grass. A shimmering landscape illusion follows: leafy woodland video images (from the Rambles) projected onto brushy metallic gold monochromes. Seductive and understated, they teeter between painting and video, and between superficial delusion and layers of coded meaning. "Mr. Gay in the U.S.A.," a sketchbook project in the back gallery, is barely visible but perfectly clear. THROUGH MARCH 15, Marianne Boesky Gallery, 535 West 22nd Street, 212-680-9889. (Levin)

NEIL GREENBERG His new multimedia quartet, Two, investigates the "either/or" duality, incorporating video (made in collaboration with Charles Dennis), music by Zeena Parkins, and live images from onstage cameras; the audience makes decisions about how to experience the work. Completing the program is the quintet Construction With Varied Materials, which has music by Tchaikovsky, Ray Charles, and Betty Carter, as well as Greenberg's signature projected text. TUESDAY AT 7 AND MARCH 12, 20, 21, 29, AND 30, Dance Theater Workshop, 219 West 19th Street, 212-924-0077. (Zimmer)

J MANDLE PERFORMANCE The uniquely garbed members of Julia Mandle's troupe turn heads wherever they go. Mandle's new, three-hour-long FEAST, a performance installation for four dancers, transpires in a 5000-square-foot, cathedral-like DUMBO space. Inspired by Plato's Symposium, and with choreography by the really smart Dutch artist Beppie Blankert, it features collaged tableaux; audience members enter on the half hour, drop into the lounge for refreshments, and return to the performance environment. Paul Geluso created the sound score, and Aaron Copp the lighting. THURSDAY AND FRIDAY FROM 7 TO 10, SATURDAY AND SUNDAY FROM 4 TO 7, THROUGH APRIL 6, the Stable, 16 Main Street, at Water Street, Brooklyn, 718-246-7440. (Zimmer)

'SLIGHTLY SCARLET' The Allan Dwan retro winds up with a bang. Among other things, the title of this 1956 whatzit refers to the coiffures sported by redhead sisters Rhonda Fleming and Arlene Dahl. The aging director's adaptation of a purplish James Cain novel, shot by master cinematographer John Alton, may be the craziest, most garish color noir ever made—at least before the underground extravaganzas of George Kuchar and Manuel De Landa. THURSDAY AT 4:20 P.M., Walter Reade Theater, 165 West 65th Street, 212-875-5600. (Hoberman)

'TEN' Abbas Kiarostami addresses Iran's "woman question" in this digitally shot, structuralist countdown—a series of conversations between a car-driving divorcée and her various passengers. The movie is conceptually rigorous, spendidly economical, and, perceptually speaking, extremely modern—suffused in urban overstimulation and filled with the stuff of the photographic unconscious. Neither fiction nor documentary, Ten shows Kiarostami as one of the few filmmakers since Andy Warhol to radically rethink the nature of on-screen acting. THROUGH MARCH 18, Film Forum, 209 West Houston Street, 212-727-8110. (Hoberman)

'10TH NEW YORK UNDERGROUND FILM FESTIVAL' The typically variegated show opens with the local premiere of appropriately named Weather Underground—a documentary portrait of the disaffected ultras straight Amerikkka loved to hate. Also screening: two new features, one non-narrative, by festival favorite James Fotopoulos, always outré Jon Moritsugu's "anti-digital video" Scum rock, and Jeff Krulik's bizarre World War II nostalgia trip Hitler's Hat. Closer to the edge: a live projector perf by the amazing Luis Recoder, plus an actual 8mm, vintage psychedelia, and a doc on feminist porn. THROUGH TUESDAY, Anthology Film Archives, 32 Second Avenue, 212-505-5181. (Hoberman)

TORI AMOS The queen of eccentricity continues to march across the country in support of her latest, Scarlet's Walk, a return to form of sorts, wherein the flame-haired pianist-singer charts her geographical and psychological progress, vis-à-vis the United States, of the last year and a half. Typically discursive, cryptic, and marked by post-9-11 sadness, Amos (perhaps likening herself to the plucky heroine of the same name?) has created 18 more of her "girls" to share with the world. THURSDAY THROUGH SATURDAY AT 8, Radio City Music Hall, 1260 Sixth Avenue, 212-247-4777. (Havranek)

A.R.E. WEAPONS "Suicide + the Spa guest list" or "Andrew W.K. in good shoes," Yancey Strickler and a pal of his sniff. But all I know is these electroclashed art gallery slimeballs' April-due LP rocks harder than Suicide (their most blatant template, despite Lou Reed/Aerosmith/Ethel Merman quotes) ever did—vocally, rhythmically, emotionally. And if W.K. is Dee Snider, A.R.E. are Iggy Stooge. Or at least James Chance. Their decadent street-kid shtick might even speak for actual kids. Cool, scared, spazzy ones. Stuck in a nuclear war. SATURDAY AT 11, Luxx, 256 Grand Street, Brooklyn, 718-599-1000. (Eddy)

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