Richard Gere stars as a creased, rumpled, work-obsessed monitor of sexual offenders in "The Flock" (released in Japan as "Kieta Tenshi)," a vehicle in which he seems to derive absolute pleasure from shattering his own, Desirable Male No. 1 stereotype.

Gere has become a formidable actor, one who can play disheveled unattractiveness without the slightest hint of irony or self-deprecation, who dons the role as naturally and casually as slipping into a pair of worn-out corduroys. Who would have thought that Richard Gere of all people, could make himself reek with Mid-Life Crisis? But reek he does, with what seems like sheer glee. Ungroomed, unsexy and obnoxious to the marrow, he does things like turn up unexpectedly at a young woman's home, accept her hospitable offer of a drink and then pass out on the sofa, snoring. He struts, he huffs, he has a serious anger problem. No one likes him and he likes no one. He's scared stiff of what he'll do after retirement because then he will be left with nothing. Having spent decades in the company of convicted sex criminals, it seems much of their mind-set and behavior has rubbed off; he can't look at a female without wondering whether or not she's been molested but his probing gaze has just as much creep factor as the offenders he helped to put behind bars.

Directed by Andrew Lau (the Hong Kong filmmaker of "Infernal Affairs" fame who has since moved out to Hollywood), "The Flock" is a weird, murkily-lit movie with "The Silence of the Lambs" undertones. Gere plays Errol Babbage, a sort of good-guy Dr. Lecter who wants to groom his understudy Allison (Claire Danes) into becoming a first-rate, sex-offender monitor after he's "put out to pasture." Why the smart, attractive Allison ever decided to make this particular career move is a mystery; the job calls for monitoring 1,000 ex-offenders over the course of one month and this involves house-calls followed by asking such clueless questions as: "Have you had any sexual thoughts lately?" Some live in remote trailer parks, others like rich kid Edmund Grooms (Russell Sams) has lured an underage cokehead girlfriend (played by the extremely atmospheric rock-chick Avril Lavigne) into his posh apartment. A monitor can't make arrests; the most they can do is blow the whistle or try and prevent ex-offenders from repeating their crimes. Errol's co-workers stay safely in the office and stare at computer screens; Errol pounds the pavement, or drives all day, harassing and embarrassing his "flock" into toeing the line. His logic: "I know some people are capable of change. But MY people aren't." Allison is exasperated and pissed off by his boisterousness; the funniest moment in the movie comes when it's revealed that his charges hold monthly meetings (in the manner of reformed alcoholics) to bond and then complain about Errol's methods. ("The offenders are offended!" splutters Errol's boss.) Much of the rest of the film is humorless and sadly cliched. Errol takes Allison to a sort of S & M house where many of his flock go to indulge their fantasies. Allison finds magazines featuring amputated female limbs stewn on the floor and one of Errol's most vicious charges has let his pet wolf in. A woman chained to a stone wall in a dungeonlike chamber writhes in joy and calls out for "the whip, baby!" Five minutes of this sequence and the feeling isn't one of terror or disgust, but a kind of boredom. You realize that as a spectacle, obsessional sex has very little to offer in the way of anything new.