GOSPEL HILL (dir. Giancarlo Esposito)—Radiating a distinct John Sayles vibe, this tale of injustice in a small Southern town has a gallery of boldly drawn characters, the economy of a conventional short story, and a reassuring amount of character reformation to reaffirm your faith in the world. As townspeople prepare to honor the memory of a fallen civil rights leader, ghosts of the past lie in waiting. The surfeit of 11th-hour reconciliations make this crowd-pleaser perfect for HBO on a Saturday evening. Starring Angela Bassett and Danny Glover.
* I’LL COME RUNNING (dir. Spenser Parsons)—A late-night hook-up between Veronica, a Mexican restaurant waitress, and Pelle, a cranky Danish tourist, seems typical enough: they exchange pet names, have lots of sex, and wonder how to say goodbye. But the cutesy narrative falls away when Pelle dies in a crash en route to the airport. Veronica, feeling something between tragic love and guilt, travels to Denmark to learn more about Pelle. A preposterous plotline courting incredulity nonetheless works, thanks to marvelously understated performances by an ensemble cast, especially Melonie Diaz as Veronica and Christian Taldrup as Soren, Pelle’s best friend. Shot in Austin, Texas and Arbus, Denmark.
IDIOTS AND ANGELS (dir. Bill Plympton)—Animator and philosopher Plympton draws a world of beleaguered men who fight with each other on the way to a dehumanizing office and are unable to connect with women, even in sexual congress. But Plympton is far from a misanthrope, and his latest work reminds us that man is in a constant struggle to regain his state of grace. (In this film, he has even sprouted a pair of angel wings.) His humor remains pitch-black, his images harsh and unsettling, but Plympton still maintains hope for his fellow man.
* JULIA (dir. Erick Zonca)—Indie film icon and Oscar winner for last year’s Michael Clayton, Tilda Swinton beguiles and assaults with a powerhouse performance as an alcoholic unable to distinguish between self-sabotage and salvation. Her brash seductions and breathtaking rationalizations land her in a scheme to kidnap the young heir to an electronics fortune. Veering between psychological portrait and an unlikely road-buddy film, Julia benefits from strong cinematography and meticulous plotting for most of the film. Memorable turns by Kate Del Castillo as the fellow 12-stepper and Aidan Gould as the kidnaped son.
LET THE RIGHT ONE IN (dir. Tomas Alfredson)—This tender tale of awkward 1970s adolescent romance involves Oskar, a lonely boy, and Eli, the goth girl next door who teaches him to stand up to the school bullies. But Eli is not a Sisters of Mercy fan; she’s a member of the Undead, but her love for Eli keeps her from feeding on him. Overripe dialogue and cheesy, Argento-type horror effects threaten to make this Swedish-Norwegian vampire film a genre-busting laugh-riot, but sensitive lead performances by Kare Hedebrant and Lina Leandersson will squelch any mocking impulses.
MEDICINE FOR MELANCHOLY (dir. Barry Jenkins)—This wistful tale of a one-night stand that bleeds over, unexpectedly, into another day and night, should be remarkable for more than just the fact that the star-crossed lovers are middle-class African-Americans. But this a film industry that still shortchanges the Black Experience unless the storyline is hip-hop or a Tyler Payne morality play. Director-writer Barry Jenkins depicts a San Francisco more gray than sunny, abetted by cinematographer Jamie Laxton. The director has an agenda that extends beyond sexual politics; his leads discuss housing for the poor and he plunks a real-life debate among housing activists smack into the middle of the film.
NATURAL CAUSES (dir. Alex Cannon, Paul Cannon and Michael Lerman)—Scenes from a slacker relationship. A chance meeting of 20-something boy and girl is followed by wisecracks and water balloons, observations about grilled cheese sandwiches and one-night-stand etiquette. But amid the elliptical conversation (and moody lighting), young love inexplicably grows. Shot in a documentary style that favors fly-on-the-wall scenes to clever banter, this film grows on you. Owing to the trio of men at the helm as writer-directors, boyfriend David (from the John Mayer school of lanky, curly-haired, puppydogs) has all of the best soul-searching lines. Stars Jerzy Gwiazdowski and Leah Goldstein are never facile, offering vulnerable, multilayered performances.
