Following threeshoplifters of unremarkable talent, One Year in a Life of Crime takes us right to the scene of wrongdoing.Rob, Fred and Mike, habitual offenders, are caught in a loop of arrest-and-release that always finds themback in the stores lifting more merchandise. But if crime pays, these guys haven't cashed their checks.Living in semi-squalor, their homebases are notable for a bracing monotony, punctuated by nonchalantviolence. Just another true crime story? No way. Director Jon Alpert, a gonzo documentarian if ever therewas one, can't keep his nose out of other people's business. In a fit of interactive journalism, he armshimself with a concealed camcorder and records their criminal deeds as they occur. We watch as theseunderworld pros steal whatever is handy, shirts, flatware, even, ironically, burglar alarms. Later, Alpertconfronts the battered girlfriends of his televised boosters, aghast at their fidelity. And this is whatdistinguishes Alpert from others of his ilk. One moment, he hides behind objective indifference, recordingfelonious acts; the next, he accuses his crooked cohorts of moral lassitude. Rob, Fred and Mike aren't theonly ones in the midst of an ethical dilemma. Parisian artist Elsa Cayo is witness to her own crimes inWhoever Steals an Egg, Steals an Egg (Qui Vole un Oeuf, Vole un Oeuf). Gaining access to the surveillancesystem in a supermarket, she feigns shoplifting, all the while mugging for the camera. For Cayo, this is aperformance where real transgression is kept to a minimum. Steve Seid