Here

Directed by Braden King
Screenplay, King, Dani Valent

With: Ben Foster, Lubna Azabal, Narek Nersisyan, Sophik Sarkisyan, and Yuri Kostanyan


In two hours, Braden King's awkwardly avant-garde and snail-paced road movie "Here" arrives at a place few will care to visit. 

Charting the familiarly bumpy romance between an American satellite-mapping
engineer (Ben Foster) and a free-spirited photographer named Gadarine (Lubna Azabal), this first U.S. feature shot in Armenia makes intermittently vivid use of the country's gorgeous landscapes while straining pretentiously to articulate lofty themes of something or other.

Experimental film interludes that pilfer Stan Brakhage's oeuvre exacerbate the narrative inertia and increase the pomposity quotient of an indie that could've made more with less.
 
Co-writer/director King does succeed in drawing naturalistic performances
from the attractive pair of Foster and Azabal, whose characters meet cute one
morning in an Ashtarak hotel. Back in her native Armenia after a long sojourn,
beautiful Gadarine helps Foster's English-speaking Will Shepard order an omelet. 

Later she mentions that she'd love to take pictures in the town to which the bespectacled science geek will be driving for his work in verifying the geographic accuracy of satellite images.

 Thus begins a spontaneous cross-country road trip that makes stops at the home of Gadarine's conservative parents (Sophik Sarkisyan, Yuri Kostanyan); at the apartment of her married friends Soffiya (Christina Hovaguimyan) and vodka-swilling Jirair (Hovak Galoyan); and at a freshwater pool where the budding young lovers strip to their undies and get better acquainted, if none too indelibly.

As Gadarine and Will proceed down the road toward disputed territory (and their own petty arguments), King takes detours, too, in the form of non-narrative segments (directed by a half-dozen other filmmakers) whose visual flash is accompanied by Will's cringe-inducingly poetic voiceovers.

"Here" has its origins in a multimedia piece King and colleagues presented at Sundance in 2008, and one senses that it would've worked better in that form, as the film's seemingly random mix of story and stylistic flourishes benefits neither element appreciably.

(Another multimedia presentation of King's  --  "Here (The Story Sleeps)," which includes images from the film projected on three screens  --  appears at the festival this year.)
 
Taken separately, Foster's and Azabal's performances  --  introverted and extroverted, respectively  --  are strong enough to sustain the viewer's interest. But together, the actors generate insufficient heat, and King's oddly prudish choice to cut away from the characters' first full sexual coupling, in the backseat of the car, hardly helps.

The primary virtues of "Here" lie in the lush widescreen lensing of Lol Crawley ("Ballast") and in the immersive multichannel sound design of Kent Sparling.

Other tech credits are merely solid.


Running time: 120 MIN.  (English, Armenian dialogue)

Camera (color, widescreen, 35mm-to-HD), Lol Crowley; editors, David Barker, Andrew Hafitz, Paul Zucker; music, Michael Krassner, Boxhead Ensemble; music supervisor, Dawn Sutter Madell; production designer, Richard A. Wright; set decorator, Sargis Karapepyan; costume designer, Amanda Ford; sound (Dolby Digital), Novica Jankov; sound designer, Kent Sparling; re-recording mixer, Sparling; associate producers, Zoe Kevork, Chris Carroll; assistant director, Carroll; casting, Eyde Belasco, Shant Petrossian. 

MORE cast: Christina Hovaguimyan and Hovak Galoyan

A Truckstop Media, Parts and Labor production, in association with Reale Dingeman Prods. (International sales: K5 Intl., Munich.) Produced by Braden King, Lars Knudsen, Jay Van Hoy. Executive producer, Julia King. Co-producer, Jeff Kalousdian.

Reviewed By Rob Nelson at Sundance Film Festival (competing), Jan. 21, 2011.


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Restless City

Directed by Andrew Dosunmu
Screenplay, Eugene Gussenhoven
 
With: Sy Alassane, Sky Grey, Tony Okungbowa, Danai Gurira, and Babs Olusanmonkun


Camera-scoured Manhattan wouldn't seem to have many secrets left, but the extraordinarily beautiful "Restless City" achieves revelation on two tiers  --  in the kinetic landscape of the city itself and in the world of Senegalese immigrants, whose struggle evolves just beneath the sightlines of the average New Yorker.

Pic's visual elegance makes a limited arthouse life possible, although Nigerian-born fashion photog-turned-helmer Andrew Dosunmu is far more interested in aesthetics than narrative in erecting his visually poetic "City."
 
Using the chaos of Canal Street as a portal into a mini-Third World of hustlers, hawkers, illicit street salesmen and a cacophony of accents and languages, Dosunmu focuses on Djibril (Sy Alassane), a 21-year-old from Dakar. 

Djibril was a singer back home, but as a disenfranchised New Yorker, he rides his Vespa, looks for work and dreams of music. Djibril's story is classic: an American dream, a moral crossroads, a woman  --  Trini (Sky Grey)  --  and a crisis.

Dramatically, it's schematic. Visually, it's euphoric, the recurring shots of Djibril motoring toward the camera through traffic providing a visual anchor for the film's otherwise unpredictable eye
 
But it's not just Dosunmu's direction or d.p. Bradford Young's use of light and reflective surfaces that make "Restless City" fascinating. Both the sound and the creative use of silence are crucial to the film's impact, as are the faces  --  melancholic portraits of hope and sadness, which Dosunmu lingers over as if in search of some elusive truth.

 
Running time: 80 MIN.

Camera (color, HD), Bradford Young; editor, Oriana Soddu; production designer, Chad Keith; art director, Jonathan Guggenheim; costume designer, Mobolaji Dawodu; sound (Dolby 5.1), Wil Masisak; supervising sound editor, Eli Cohn; re-recording mixer, Cohn; casting, Lois J. Drabkin. 

Reviewed By John Anderson at Sundance Film Festival (Next), Jan. 26, 2011.

An Ajiwe Fu Orishas presentation of a Clam production in association with Ayni Media. Produced by Katie Mustard, Matt Parker. Executive producers, Andrew Dosunmu, Anthony Okungbowa, David Raymond.

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Sound of My Voice


Directed by Zal Batmanglij
Screenplay, Zal Batmanglij, Brit Marling

With: Christopher Denham, Nicole Vicius, Brit Marling


Two documentary filmmakers infiltrate a mysterious cult, only to find themselves drawn into the leader's insidious grip, in the taut, compelling low-budget feature "Sound of My Voice."

An object lesson in how much can be achieved on modest means with a smart combo of craft and story, this nifty little spellbinder reps a strong calling card for first-time helmer Zal Batmanglij and his producer, co-writer and actress, Brit Marling.

Positive whispers should help this Sundance Next highlight find select theatrical pulpits, though it's likely to lure its widest audience through tube and online showings.
 
Originally conceived as a Web series, the 84-minute pic is divided into 10 installments, presumably for online-friendly viewing. Yet far from feeling patchy or episodic, "Sound of My Voice" has a killer narrative thrust that plays well on the bigscreen, the chapter numbers serving less to offset individual vignettes than to chart the central characters' disturbingly swift assimilation into a dangerous sub-subculture.
 
Silver Lake couple Peter (Christopher Denham) and Lorna (Nicole Vicius) are blindfolded and driven to a house somewhere in the San Fernando Valley, where a quick-cut montage shows them disrobing, showering and donning white smocks.

The two soon meet several similarly garbed and seemingly like-minded adherents of a
group led by beautiful twentysomething Maggie (Marling), who spins a straight-faced yarn about how she is a visitor from the year 2054.

Apparently allergic to everything around her, Maggie must remain hidden in the basement, hooked up to an oxygen supply and dependent on home-grown produce and the blood of her followers for survival.
 
A full-time schoolteacher who conceals his emotions beneath a cynical smirk, Peter has a long-held personal hatred of cults, which explains his desire to expose one on camera.
 
"She's a con artist," he says of Maggie, though neither he nor the audience can be entirely sure, after a mesmerizing scene in which Maggie puts Peter on the spot and verbally abuses him before gently coaxing him out of his emotional shell.

Lorna, who's assisting Peter on the project, fears he may be more susceptible than he realizes, especially when Maggie tests his loyalty with an outrageous request.

Emerging as a multifaceted talent at this year's Sundance fest with both "Voice" and "Another Earth" (which she also co-scripted, produced and starred in), Marling transfixes as a gorgeous but alien-like figure who draws her dominance from an outward display of sickly vulnerability.

The film's title is an apt and evocative one, as this charismatic leader speaks in a voice both gentle and warm, even as it thrums with understated menace.

Denham and Vicius are fine in detective-duo roles that could be more richly elaborated in future films or series.
 
"Sound of My Voice" is an economically assembled film that knows what it's doing at every step, and Batmanglij appears to have channeled his limited resources for maximum effectiveness; Tamara Meem's editing is sharp, Rachel Morrison's lensing often splendidly unnerving as the camera presses up close against the characters.

The tease of an ending, which follows a climactic setpiece at Los Angeles' La Brea Tar Pits, leaves the viewer wanting more not just from the story, but from a new filmmaker of considerable promise.


Running time: 84 MIN

Camera (color, HD), Rachel Morrison; editor, Tamara Meem; music, Rostam Batmanglij; set decorator, Alys Thompson; costume designer, Sarah de Sa Rego; sound, Critical Mass Prods.; sound designers, D. Chris Smith, Will Riley; line producer, Jennifer Glynn; assistant director, Nicolas Duchemin Harvard; casting, Danielle Aufiero, Amber Horn. Produced by Hans Ritter, Brit Marling, Shelley Surpin. Executive producers, Eric Richter, Victoria Guenier.

Reviewed By Justin Chang at Sundance Film Festival (Next), Jan. 26, 2011.


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Silent House


Directed by Chris Kentis, Laura Lau
Screenplay, Lau, based on the film "La Casa Muda," written by Oscar Estevez.

With: Elizabeth Olsen, Adam Trese, Eric Sheffer Stevens, and Julia Taylor Ross


Though it's based on the like-titled Uruguayan film "La Casa Muda," "Silent House" seems oddly named for a thriller whose titular abode boasts the creaky floorboards of an old, dark genre.

Taking place in real time via one apparently unbroken shot, this technically impressive, ultimately sleazy indie puts its heavy-breathing and buxom young heroine (Elizabeth Olsen) through the ringer for 87 minutes and leaves a sour aftertaste even by the brutalizing standards of modern horror. 

Another stylistic exercise from "Open Water" directors Chris Kentis and Laura Lau, "Silent House" twists camera and narrative alike, but repulses more than it scares.

Impeccably choreographed, if too often to ogle Olsen's ample cleavage, the action opens on high, above a craggy lakeshore, as d.p. Igor Martinovic's HD camera glides down to settle on Sarah (Olsen), a college-age beauty working with her dad John (Adam Trese) and uncle Peter (Eric Sheffer Stevens) to ready the family's dilapidated cabin for sale.

That Sarah's elders look nearly young enough to be her boyfriends gives the pic a queasy feel from the start, as does the fact that the woman gets visibly disconcerted whenever someone -- including pushy childhood playmate Sophia (Julia Taylor Ross)  --  brings up the distant past.
 
Shuttered from the inside, the large, dust-covered house emits all manner of weird noises, and with indoor lighting limited to that from battery-powered lanterns, false scares abound.

Sarah, implausibly clad for housework in a miniskirt, white camisole, and wide-open cardigan, gets jittery by degrees, as a door slams shut, Dad momentarily disappears, and a bottle appears out of nowhere to roll along a crooked floor.

 What happens next can't be described without spoiling the pic's surprises, such as they are. Suffice it to say that Sarah's camisole turns crimson in a couple of places, the house is visited by two other creepy figures, and the ending throws all that has preceded it into a new and rather ugly light.

Kentis and Lau get mildly Hitchcockian with popping flashbulbs out of "Rear Window" and at least one "Rope"-style trick to disguise an edit, but "Silent House" mainly leans on its Uruguayan predecessor, give or take the final minutes of "REC" and "The Blair Witch Project."

Pulling off the thespian equivalent of running a marathon, the hyperventilating Olsen works awfully hard in the service of a film that, in the end, does little or nothing to preserve her character's integrity.

And as Trese and Stevens utterly fail to convince as father and uncle, respectively, the
pic's true star is Martinovic's unblinking camera, which really ought to have been let loose in some other house.

 
Running time: 86 MIN.

Camera (color, HD), Igor Martinovic; music, Nathan Larson; production designer, Roshelle Berliner; art director, Katya Debear; set decorator, Robert Covelman; costume designer, Lynn Falconer; sound (Dolby Digital), Noah Timan; supervising sound editor, Glenn T. Morgan; re-recording mixer, Roberto Fernandez; visual effects supervisor, Michael Collins; visual effects, LOOK Effects, Link9; special effects supervisor, Drew Jiritano; stunt coordinator, Manny Siverio;
associate producers, Kristen Konvitz, Geoff Cox, Thomas Fatone; assistant director, Fatone; casting, Kerry Barden, Paul Schnee.

MORE cast: Haley Murphy and Adam Barnett

An Elle Driver presentation, in association with Silverwood Pictures and Optimum Releasing, of an Elle Driver, Eye for an Eye Filmworks, Tazora Films production. Produced by Agnes Mentre, Laura Lau. Executive producers, Adeline Fontan 
Tessaur, Eva Diederix, George Paaswell, Lynette Howell. Co-producer, Meir Gal. 

Reviewed By Rob Nelson at Sundance Film Festival (Park City at Midnight), Jan. 21, 2011.


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THIN ICE
(Fest title: The Convincer)


Directed by Jill Sprecher
Screenplay, Jill Sprecher, Karen Sprecher

With: Greg Kinnear, Alan Arkin, Billy Crudup, Lea Thompson, and Bob Balaban


Beginning not far from "Fargo," the wintry, Wisconsin-set noir farce "Thin Ice (The Convincer)" stakes out its own twisty territory after a mild flurry of ice-cold yuks involving a pathetically conniving salesman (Greg Kinnear), a load of cash and a lot of blood.

But this third feature from the Sprecher sisters -- director Jill and her co-screenwriter Karen ("Clockwatchers") -- is distinguished throughout by the sharp contributions of a high-caliber cast and crew, including ace d.p. Dick Pope and exec-producing actor Alan Arkin.

Alas, in the absence of bigger stars, the film will need critical persuasion to hook fans of
black-comic crime capers.

Narrating in voiceover, amoral Kenosha insurance peddler Mickey Prohaska (a well-cast Kinnear) announces, "We live in a world of bullshit"  --  some of which is clearly of his own dispensing.

Mickey would like to think he can sell ice to Eskimos, but his biz is lukewarm at best, and he can't close a reconciliation deal with his estranged wife Jo Ann (Lea Thompson).

With the help of a geeky new recruit (David Harbour), he does manage to unload a cut-rate policy on retired farmer Gorvy Hauer (Arkin), an intermittently perceptive
octogenarian whose accent is Kenoshan by way of Queens. Gorvy mainly needs insurance so he can call the agent to come over and fix his TV  --  usually by plugging it in.

Snoozing on his La-Z-Boy one afternoon while Mickey is fiddling with the dial, the old man gets a visit from an antique violin appraiser (Bob Balaban) who mistakes the salesman for the homeowner and offers $25,000 for the rare Stainer that's been sitting in the living room. 

Naturally the money-hungry Mickey jumps at the chance to grab the cash, but there are complications, including an ex-con locksmith (Billy Crudup), Gorvy's temperamental dog and, eventually, a dead body.
 
As Kinnear's unhinged convincer discovers that his peace of mind will cost more than a policy, the Sprechers continue to cleverly spin a yarn that seems familiar  --  until it isn't. The filmmakers' gambit here, and it's a risky one, is in waiting roughly 90 minutes to show off their true tricks, which fully re-string the narrative fiddle.

In the meantime, there are pitch-perfect comic notes from the whole ensemble, and a suitably quirky score from Alex Wurman that borrows banjo-strums from Bela Fleck.
 
Stephen Mirrione's editing hits all the right beats, and Pope's brilliantly composed widescreen images of the Wisconsin tundra are as bright as any noir's could be.

Other production values of the Sprechers' indie are indistinguishable from a studio pic's.


Running time: 109 MIN.

Camera (color, widescreen), Dick Pope; editor, Stephen Mirrione; music, Alex Wurman, Bela Fleck; music supervisor, Doug Bernheim; production designer, Jeff Schoen; art director, Kelly Rae Hemenway; set decorator, Jill Broadfoot; costume designer, Tara Duncan; sound (Dolby Digital), John L. Sims Jr.; supervising sound editor, Cheryl Nardi; re-recording mixer, Lora Hirschberg; visual effects supervisor, Thomas J. Smith; visual effects, CIS Hollywood; special effects coordinator, Gary C. Surber; stunt coordinator, Peter Moore; line producer, Julie Hartley; assistant director, Curtis Smith; casting, Jeanne McCarthy, Lynn Blumenthal.

MORE CAST: David Harbour and Michelle Arthur

A Werc Werk Works production, in association with Spare Room Prods. Produced by Mary Frances Budig, Elizabeth Redleaf, Christine Kunewa Walker. Executive producer, Alan Arkin. Co-producers, Andrew Peterson, Mark Steele.

Reviewed By Rob Nelson at Sundance Film Festival (Premieres), Jan. 25, 2011. 



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Prairie Love

Directed, edited by Dusty Bias
Screenplay, Dusty Bias, Ashley Bias, Holly Lynn Ellis.

With: Jeremy Clark, Holly Lynn Ellis, and Garth Blomberg


Tedious "Prairie Love" extends a thimbleful of undeveloped character and story ideas over 81 minutes of presumed black-comedy drollery as flat as its frozen North Dakota tundra setting.

Impressively lensed as that setting is, the stark widescreen look isn't enough to hold interest in a movie whose would-be absurdist snowbound inertia fast induces viewer
brain-freeze.

An itinerant road tripper identified only as "Vagrant" (Jeremy Clark) finds a man frozen stiff in the middle of a backcountry lane, loads him into his truck and thaws him out, finding out before the guy regains consciousness that "NoDak" (Garth Blomberg) was headed to at last meet his prison-penpal girlfriend before his car conked out.

After much laconic and sorely unfunny time together, the driver ditches his charge, assumes his identity and picks up the aforementioned freshly sprung "Girl" (co-scenarist Holly Lynn Ellis, vaguely channeling Frances McDormand in "Fargo").

More narrative paint dries. Performers have nothing to work with in terms of dialogue, action, or more than the thinnest character outlines, though tech contributions are solid.

Commercial prospects for director/co-writer Dusty Bias' first feature are below zero.


Running time: 81 MIN.

Camera (color, HD, widescreen), Lawrence Schweich; music, Ted Speaker; production designer, Douglas Meuller. A Left Turn Prods. presentation. Produced by Douglas Mueller, Holly Lynn Ellis, Brian Quist, Bryant Mock, Ashley Martin Bias. Co-producer, Ted Speaker. Executive producers, Dusty Bias, Ashley Martin Bias. 

Reviewed By Dennis Harvey at Sundance Film Festival (Next), Jan. 23, 2011.


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Take Shelter

Directed, written by Jeff Nichols

Curtis LaForche - Michael Shannon
Samantha LaForche - Jessica Chastain
Hannah LaForche - Tova Stewart
Sarah - Kathy Baker

A hallucinatory thriller anchored by a deeply resonant sense of unease, "Take Shelter" finds writer-director Jeff Nichols honing, polishing and amply confirming the raw filmmaking talent he displayed in "Shotgun Stories."

Like that auspicious 2007 debut, this deliberately paced psychological drama builds an ever-tightening knot of tension around an excellent Michael Shannon, here playing a family man slowly driven mad by apocalyptic visions that could be paranoid, prophetic or both.

Acquired by Sony Classics before its Sundance premiere, slow-burning "Shelter" will carve out a respectable arthouse niche, though favorable critical response could raise the
ceiling.

In a brooding prologue that brings to mind any number of sci-fi disaster pictures, construction worker Curtis LaForche (Shannon) watches storm clouds gather in eerily beautiful formations outside the rural Ohio home where he lives with his beautiful wife, Samantha (Jessica Chastain), and their hearing-impaired young daughter, Hannah (Tova Stewart).

The inclement weather seems to trigger in Curtis a series of intensely disturbing dreams that linger long after he's awakened, leaving him physically ill in a manner that recalls the inexplicable environmental maladies of Todd Haynes' "Safe."

The most extreme of these nightmares involves a cyclone ripping the house from its foundations -- -- an event that Curtis, for reasons unknown to him or the audience, believes will soon transpire.

Curtis privately consults a doctor but is hesitant to seek psychological treatment, and he responds testily when a concerned Samantha tries to find out what's wrong. He eventually goes to visit his mother (Kathy Baker), who, it turns out, has a history of schizophrenia, but the possibility of inherited mental illness doesn't entirely explain the disquieting sense of more sinister forces at work.

The early dream sequences, designed to sneak up on the audience, are a tad dispiriting in that they feel like routine horror-movie jolts. Nichols is indeed toying with genre, but primarily as a vessel for deeper, more suggestive undercurrents: Curtis may awaken every night in a cold sweat, but what's more chilling is the way the dreams stay with him, leaving psychic imprints that bleed into the daylight hours.

Before long, Curtis is building an enormous tornado shelter in their yard -- a huge undertaking that angers Samantha and costs the family dearly.

As in "Shotgun Stories," Nichols locates a compelling domestic drama within a small American town whose codes and customs are observed with rigorous attention to detail. Having amassed critical and commercial cachet, the director here avails himself of a larger budget and studio-caliber production values, including a lyrical score by David Wingo and an array of sophisticated visual effects (courtesy of producing company
Hydraulx) to pull off the film's forays into disaster-movie territory.

Adam Stone's widescreen cinematography is simply pristine, making poetic use of
shadows and capturing the dolorous beauty of the film's Midwestern landscape.

Skillfully tapping into a nameless but all-too-familiar sense of dread, of being powerless to hold danger at bay, "Take Shelter" emerges a study of troubled masculinity in a troubled world. Curtis' refusal to share his fears with his wife is infuriating, his behavior often inscrutable; yet everything he does is motivated by an admirable determination to protect his family at any cost.

Shannon's tightly wound, gruff-yet-tender performance invites sympathy even as the character's irrationality keeps the viewer off balance, building to an electrifying scene in which Curtis is pushed to his limits and lets the lid off his demons in public.

For all the film's focus on Curtis, it never sidelines Samantha's role in the drama, and Chastain, as a woman who chooses to respond to every setback with fierce compassion, makes wrenchingly clear why her husband is so intent on shielding her from harm.

As storms brew outside the home and within, Nichols' film distinguishes itself most
impressively as a portrait of a marriage the viewer desperately wants to see prevail -- right up to an ending that, if it seems a touch anticlimactic in its ambiguity, nonetheless sounds a note of quiet, tentative hope.



Camera (Deluxe color, Arri widescreen), Adam Stone; editor, Parke Gregg; music, David Wingo; production designer, Chad Keith; art director, Jennifer Klide; set decorator, Adam Willis; costume designer, Karen Malecki; sound (Dolby E), Ryan Putz; supervising sound designer, Will Files; sound designers, Lyman Hardy, Joshua Chase; re-recording mixers, Files, Brandon Proctor; special effects coordinator, Tim Hoffman; visual effects supervisor, Chris Wells; visual effects, Hydraulx; stunt coordinator, Richard Fike; assistant director, Timothy Johnson; second unit director, Darius Shahmir; second unit camera, Kenneth Neil Moore; casting, Lillian Pyles.


Running time: 124 MIN.

MORE cast:
Dewart - Shea Whigham
Nat - Katy Mixon
Kyle - Ray McKinnon
Kendra - Lisagay Hamilton
Jim - Robert Longstreet

A Sony Pictures Classics release of a Hydraulx Entertainment, REI Capital and Grove Hill Prods. presentation of a Strange Matter Films production. Produced by Tyler Davidson, Sophia Lin. Executive producers, Sarah Green, Brian Kavanaugh-Jones, Colin Strause, Greg Strause, Richard Rothfeld, Chris Perot, Christos Konstantakopoulos. Co-producers, Robert Ruggeri, Adam Wilkins. 
Reviewed By Justin Chang at Sundance Film Festival (competing), Jan. 24, 2011. 


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Knuckle

(Documentary -- Ireland)


Directed by Ian Palmer

With: James Quinn McDonagh, Paddy Quinn McDonagh, and Michael Quinn
McDonagh


Irish troubles of a different but similarly deep-rooted sort are on fascinating display in "Knuckle," director Ian Palmer's decade-spanning chronicle of the bloody fisticuffs between two feuding Traveler families.

As a bruising study in masculine temperament and the ways in which cycles of violence
can be controlled and mediated -- yet also perpetuated and inflamed -- in a public arena, pic is unavoidably compelling stuff, even if it finally feels as grindingly repetitive, and hopeless, as the chain of aggression it documents. 

Abundant fight footage lends "Knuckle" a decent theatrical shot, though HBO's dramatic remake looks to draw more spectators. While the Quinn McDonagh and Joyce families are cousins, their bad blood goes back generations, and Palmer, who began recording their fights in 1997 and kept filming for the next 12 years, attempts to trace the conflict back to its half-forgotten roots.

The sins of the past seem less important than the poundings of the present, as the warring clans meet on rugged country lanes for bare-knuckle boxing matches -- a carefully ritualized means of settling accounts, except that accounts never get settled.

The seasoned champion of the bunch, and the film's closest thing to a hero, is James Quinn McDonagh, who, after years of going undefeated, admits he's grown tired of all the fighting. With James more or less announcing his retirement, the drama mainly concerns his more hotheaded younger brother, Michael, who's determined to reclaim his honor in a rematch with "Big" Paul Joyce after an ill-fated bout nine years before.

Michael was disqualified in that 1999 go-round for biting, one of three forbidden offenses (the others being head-butting and below-the-belt punches). 
Again and again, the subjects interviewed, including members of the Joyce family, emphasize the importance of a fair fight, and one of the film's sharpest insights is that for the most part, these men instinctively govern themselves even when indulging their baser impulses.

Of course, these urges are sometimes expressed in a more juvenile fashion: Palmer is granted access to the numerous trash-talking videos (many featuring the outspoken "Big" Joe Joyce) the families send back and forth to rile each other up and instigate fresh confrontations.

Fittingly rough in its assembly (Michael Doyle lensed the pic with Palmer, while Ollie Huddleston handled editing duties), and thoroughly Irish in its blend of fatalism and grisly humor, "Knuckle" performs a fairly shrewd dissection of the Traveler male ego while maintaining an essentially observational perspective.

For the viewer, the matches themselves, with their clumsily thrown punches and spasmodic nosebleeds, will serve as a bristling antidote to the slickly choreographed fight scenes typical of most action fare; here, in the absence of squishy, Dolby-amplified sound effects, it's the audience whose gasps and groans supply the accompaniment.

As anthropology lessons go, "Knuckle" is strong stuff, and it's easy to accept Palmer's conclusion that the problem he's showing us may well have no solution. For that very reason, despite the docu's attempt to supply Michael Quinn McDonagh with some third-act uplift and a rooting interest, a certain battle fatigue sets in well before the finish.
 
Watching the film, it's possible to experience all sorts of reactions -- excitement, revulsion, a certain grudging respect -- yet what it leaves us with is a profound sadness.

Call it outsider condescension, but there's something deeply dispiriting about spending time with people whose options in life seem so limited by a cloddish tribal order that forces them -- and inevitably, their children -- to perpetuate a neverending cycle of unexamined hatred and bodily harm.

There's no escape, and perhaps no desire to. They fight, therefore they are.


Running time: 96 MIN.

Camera (color, video), Michael Doyle, Ian Palmer; editor, Ollie Huddleston; music, Ilan Eshkeri, Essica Dannheisser; music supervisor, Ian Neil. A Rise Films presentation in association with Seafield Films, with the participation of the Irish Film Board. (International sales: CAA.) Produced by Ian Palmer, Teddy Leifer. Executive producers, Nick Fraser, Alan Maher. 

Reviewed at Sundance Film Festival (World Cinema -- competing), Jan. 28, 2011.

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Tyrannosaur
(U.K.)


Directed, written by Paddy Considine

Joseph - Peter Mullan
Hannah - Olivia Colman
James - Eddie Marsan
Tommy - Ned Dennehy

Brit thesp Paddy Considine makes a strong writing-helming feature debut with "Tyrannosaur," recycling the same cast, characters and setup he used for his 2008 award-winning short "Dog Altogether."

As in the earlier film, lonely, rage-filled widower Joseph (Peter Mullan) seeks refuge from his pain in the charity thrift store managed by Christian do-gooder Hannah (Olivia Colman).

Character, dialogue, storyline and production values exude grit, an aesthetic rigor that makes "Tyrannosaur" a good fit for its Sundance festival berth. Produced by low-budget imprint Warp X, pic looks set to avoid extinction via further fest exposure and niche theatrical outings.

If a character's treatment of his dog serves as a shorthand indicator of his or her moral compass, Considine challenges auds from the outset, as protag Joseph (Mullan) drunkenly boots his canine companion to near-death before the opening titles.

In short order, Joseph takes on three young men whose noisy horseplay at a pub pool table disturbs his drinking session, and then mocks the religious convictions of Hannah (Colman). At least Joseph doesn't want for self-knowledge, judging by his pithy assessment, "My best friend's dying of cancer. I killed my dog. I'm fucked."

In a significant shift from "Dog Altogether," this feature-length version finds its most striking subject in Hannah, whose cheerful demeanor and religious certitude mask a desperate home life with abusive husband James (Eddie Marsan). 

Torment can quietly flourish at all levels of society, evidently, although it's a stretch to believe that Hannah, as she's presented, might meekly accept her husband urinating on her as punishment for falling asleep on the sofa. Her later revelations of James' worst depravities, which have prevented her from ever conceiving a child, are even more disturbing.

The pic is well served by its three principal thesps, who all prove eminently capable of suggesting the full depths of these interior lives. Mullan's likability is a prime asset, given his character's alienating aspects, and he and Colman (best known to Brit auds for
sitcom "Peep Show") enjoy an easy chemistry after Hannah leaves James to bunk with Joseph.

Marsan ("Vera Drake," "Happy-Go-Lucky") chillingly swings between geniality and hostility. Considine deploys none of the warm humor found in the work of countryman Shane Meadows, for whom he has acted many times, beginning with 1999's "A Room for Romeo Brass."

Brief flashes of levity do arrive courtesy of Joseph's well-intentioned drinking partner, Tommy (Ned Dennehy), and humor of a darker hue comes from Joseph himself, notably in his explanation of the nickname he gave his amply proportioned wife (which gives the pic its title). 
The film initially seems happy to privilege situation over story, until a nimbly executed narrative kick late in the proceedings en route to a satisfying tie-up. Auds hoping for a compensatory poetic dimension amid the grimness -- the kind provided by other low-budget Brit helmers like Lynne Ramsay ("Ratcatcher") and Andrea Arnold ("Fish Tank") -- will find scant solace in lenser Erik Alexander Wilson's defiantly prosaic lighting and camera setups or Simon Rogers' dour, budget-appropriate production design.

At least the lyrical guitar strumming fashioned by composers Chris Baldwin and Dan Baker, plus a couple of well-chosen and adroitly placed songs by others, provide a welcome emotional outlet.


Running time: 91 MIN.

Camera (color, widescreen, HD), Erik Alexander Wilson; editor, Pia di Ciaula; music, Chris Baldwin, Dan Baker; music supervisor, John Boughtwood; production designer, Simon Rogers; art directors, Andrew Ranner, Kiera Tudway; set decorator, Laura Marsh; costume designer, Lance Milligan; sound (Dolby Surround), Chris Sheedy, Billy Quinn; supervising sound designer, Ben Squires; re-recording mixer, Greg Marshall; visual effects, Framestore; fight coordinator, Renny Krupinski; line producer, Sarada McDermott; assistant director, Dan Winch; casting, Des Hamilton.

MORE cast:
Marie - Sally Carman
Samuel - Samuel Bottomley
Bod - Paul Popplewell
Kelly - Sian Breckin

An Optimum Releasing release of a Film4, U.K. Film Council presentation, in association with Screen Yorkshire, EM Media, Optimum Releasing, of a Warp X, Inflammable Films production. (International sales: Protagonist Pictures, London.) Produced by Diarmid Scrimshaw. Executive producers, Peter Carlton, Mark Herbert, Katherine Butler, Hugo Heppell, Suzanne Alizart, Will Clarke.

Reviewed By Charles Gant at Curzon Soho, London, Jan. 12, 2011. (In Sundance Film Festival -- World Cinema, competing.)


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The Lie

Directed by Joshua Leonard
Screenplay, Jeff Feuerzeig, Leonard, Mark Webber, and Jess Weixler

With: Joshua Leonard, Jess Weixler, Mark Webber, Violet Long, and Jane Adams


A young Angeleno's brief rebellion against adult responsibility drives "The Lie." Actor turned first-time feature helmer Joshua Leonard's adaptation of a sharp, funny T.C. Boyle story necessarily expands the material, but the alterations and additions made -- including his own casting in the lead -- are seldom improvements.

Thinly amusing [film] with not-especially-appealing characters looks likely to bypass theaters for home formats after fest travel. 

Lonnie (Leonard, of "Humpday" and "The Blair Witch Project") works an editorial job he hates while spouse Clover (Jess Weixler, "Teeth") finishes law school; they've got a 6-month-old daughter.

All this leaves precious little time for chillaxin', let alone making music with Lonnie's old pal Tank (Mark Webber), who remains at slacker liberty living in a trailer at the beach.

One day Lonnie simply can't bring himself to go to work, inventing an excuse ("The baby is sick"), and has a swell, revivifying day all to himself. The next morning he again skips the 9-to-5 grind, blurting to his boss that the baby has now died. 
This buys him a few more days' freedom, as well as outpourings of grief from hitherto distant co-workers. But this big lie is sure to explode in his face when discovered.

In place of the source material's giddy comic energy, verging on nervous breakdown, the pic substitutes a woozy dramedic tone whose lack of focus is underlined by what too often sounds like improvisational dialogue that's seldom very funny or insightful. (Script is credited to the three main actors plus Jeff Feuerzeig, "additional dialogue" to other cast members.)

Other notable departures from Boyle's story include making principal characters inarticulate, rather childish Gen Y types, and an added fadeout of the "What the hell, let's chuck it all!" ilk.

These changes would be fine if they added depth, wit or sympathy. But while that was likely the intent, the results diminish the material instead.

Lonnie and Clover are figures we're meant to find cute and relatable, but many viewers will find them merely irksome. At the end, we're supposed to assume they'll find their nonconformist path; as sketched, however, it seems more likely these folk will wind up sponging off their parents.

Leonard shows more promise handling the pic's physical assembly, which demonstrates a modest, breezy feel for mixing up visual and aural textures.


Running time: 82 MIN.

Camera (color, HD), Benjamin Kasulke; editor, Greg O'Bryant; music, Peter Raeburn; music supervisor, Marguerite Phillips; production designer, Thomas S. Hammock; art director, Justin Lieb; costume designer, Emily Batson; sound, Sean O'Malley; re-recording mixer/sound designer, Jamie Hardt; assistant director, James Grayford.

MORE cast: Alia Shawkat, Kelli Garner, Gerry Bednob, Kirk Baltz, Tipper Newton,
Allison Anders, and Holly Woodlawn

A Perception Media in association with Das Film presentation. Produced by Mary Pat Bentel. Executive producers, Sriram Das, Mitchell Goldman. Co-produced by Daniel Long.

Reviewed By Dennis Harvey at Sundance Film Festival (Next), Jan. 25, 2011.



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