This ain’t the old Dakota Fanning rape movie they showed at Sundance nearly two years ago to a rain of critical revulsion. This is the re-edited Dakota Fanning rape movie that re-emerges as an even riper piece of cheese. Fanning, then 12, plays Lewellen, toughing it out in 1950s Alabama with her nut-case daddy (David Morse) and religious-zealot grammie (Piper Laurie) but finding solace in her worship of Elvis. The rape, barely glimpsed, happens when Lewellen does a dance for a local boy who promises her a ticket to the King’s concert. If there’s a Southern-gothic cliché (oh, those snakes!) that writer-director Deborah Kampmeier misses, I don’t know it. What I can’t figure is why anyone would want to release this tripe in theaters just when Fanning has nearly lived it down. They ain’t no friends of mine, or any other moviegoer.