La Mission is a quiet, authentic movie about life in the hardscrabble Mission District of San Francisco. It features a charismatic lead performance by Benjamin Bratt, while writer-director Peter Bratt (the star’s brother) depicts the neighborhood with a keenly observed sense of the close-knit macho culture at its core. Yet for all the verisimilitude ingrained in the spirited portrait of this old-world style milieu, with the front stoop and garage as hubs of activity, there’s not much drama in it.

Bratt plays Che Rivera, a heavily tattooed mechanic with a criminal past. The ex-con loves basketball, Jesus, sleek manly shades and wife beaters. He lives on the first floor of a small walk-up with son Jesse (Jeremy Ray Valdez) and is intrigued by new neighbor Lena (Erika Alexander), an African-American hippie who seems diametrically opposed to the old-fashioned ideas Che stands for. The gentrification she represents is just a harbinger of a much deeper, personal change for Che, who reacts with all-consuming rage when he discovers pictures of Jesse dancing and making out with his boyfriend.

The narrative centers on Che’s struggle with his deeply ingrained homophobia, the turmoil in the incongruence between the love he feels for his son and the disgust felt for his lifestyle. His pensive courting of the exceedingly tolerant Lena offers promise of opening up, but it presents an ugly contrast to his attempts to submerge the new image of his son beneath the old, to act as if nothing has changed. The inner conflict mirrors the larger shifting notions of masculinity and gender conventions in 21st century immigrant communities. The film earnestly asks that even those stricken deeply, fundamentally by prejudice find a way to awaken seeds of tolerance in their souls.

This ripe subject for a sociological essay works less well as a feature film, as Peter Bratt fails to sprinkle it with the complex shadings and three-dimensional depth it requires. The screenplay follows a predictable formula, with lowrider parties and various forms of male bonding providing the filler between Che’s outbursts at Jesse and his earnest, hesitant attempts at rebuilding their once unshakable bond. The subtext to every conversation about sports, or food, or school is never less than crystal clear, eventually thrust to the surface indignantly by the son, spurring a volcanic response. The peripheral details evoke no more than passing ethnographic interest, no matter how ably the filmmaker spruces them up with soul songs and energetic camera movements.

Benjamin Bratt gives the most memorable performance of his largely underwhelming cinematic career. There’s no vanity in his work — the tough guy image seems wrought from a real, painful place rather than simple posturing — and the actor brings such determined feeling to his every line reading and gesture that he evokes a sense of gradual self-discovery, of Che sorting himself out internally. Still, Bratt is most effective in the wordless scenes that find him alone with his thoughts and feelings. In addition to the cyclical nature of Che’s encounters with his son, the crucial visceral spark that’s a fundamental component to any successful romance is missing from the screen time he shares with Alexander, who is stuck playing a character whose entire existence seems predicated on her saintly presence in the protagonist’s life.

La Mission is evidently a film of great personal significance for the Bratts, who grew up in San Francisco. It’s an affecting tribute to their neighborhood, one that celebrates the close ties that are its lifeblood as it simultaneously criticizes the close-mindedness that defines them. The picture continues the great, timeless tradition of movies that evoke the look, feel and rhythms of life in a particular, small place and imbue it with universal themes. But it gets those themes across early and then hammers them home again and again, as monotony sets in.

The Upside: Benjamin Bratt gives his best performance, imbuing Che Rivera with depth and feeling.

The Downside: Both major storylines come across as repetitive and unconvincing, without memorable moments.

On the Side: The film premiered at the 2009 Sundance Film Festival and has finally made it to its theatrical release.

Editor’s Note: This review was written at the 2009 Sundance Film Festival. Seeing as this movie is finally coming out on March 5, 2010, we’ve decided to repost it. The version I saw at Sundance may have been a slightly different cut, but my opinion below still stands. Please go about your business…

Having just this morning seen the premiere of Antoine Fuqua’s latest film Brooklyn’s Finest, I can say with certainty that there are two things that this director knows how to do that will always have me coming back for more. He is quite obviously not afraid to rip his characters open with brutal shooting scenes and he’s also not shy with casting attractive ladies and putting them in situations that require very little, if any clothing. We’ve seen him do it before with films such as Tears of the Sun and most recently with Shooter. We also know that he can put together a solid cast and deliver the drama, as he proved with Training Day. Brooklyn’s Finest combines all of these things to deliver one of Fuqua’s best films, one that delivers its share of violence and sex, all set in the gritty neighborhoods of Brooklyn.

The story revolves around three main characters. Richard Gere plays Eddie, a lonely, disenchanted New York police officer who is just trying to find reasons not to blow his own brains out as he serves out the last 7 days of duty before his pension kicks in and he retires. Don Cheadle plays Tango, an undercover cop who has been in the game a little too long, causing him to grow a little too fond of his target, a big time drug mover named Caz (Wesley Snipes). Ethan Hawke plays Sal, a narcotics cop whose struggle to provide for his ever-growing family have led him to jump back and forth from one side of the law to another.

Told through the eyes of these three men and their constantly entwined arcs, Brooklyn’s Finest is a tough film with quite a few intense moments. As he has done so well in the past, Fuqua uses characters who’ve been placed in rough circumstances to blur the lines between right and wrong, righteous and the immoral. None of these characters are necessarily good people, but we find reasons to connect with them either way. Why? Because they are well rounded characters brought to life by a cast of fantastic actors. Don Cheadle, as always, transforms into the role of Tango, bringing the audience into the vulnerable and troubled world of an undercover cop left out to dry by his superiors. Richard Gere delivers a great performance as well, his best dramatic role since The Jackal or Primal Fear. Hawke is the film’s real star though, as his character’s story is the most interesting, and as he did with Fuqua in Training Day, he makes the most of the opportunity to shine. Also notable is Wesley Snipes, who has found himself a great role after spending so long without some fitting work. Last but not least, there are some more than sexy moments between Richard Gere and newcomer Shannon Kane, who spends all of her screentime in the nude — and it is glorious.

The only issue that I found with the film is that its second act does overstay its welcome, leaving the audience to impatiently squirm in their seats a bit as they await the big finale. When said finale does finally arrive, it is absolutely brutal and completely worth the wait. The three compelling storylines, all wrought with unique sets of problems, come crashing together and the films intense final moments. It is here that Fuqua’s ability to film the brutality of a gun fight shines through, leaving the audience rattled as the storylines unfold. It’s not so much a surprise as it is the sheer intensity of the sequence that will get you, like a swift kick in the ass that you knew was coming. For fans of Fuqua’s previous work, this is exactly what we would expect the director to deliver. And deliver, he does.

In Precious: Based on the Novel ‘Push’ by Sapphire, director Lee Daniels pulls off an improbable feat. Within a grim world in which the worst of human behavior frequently manifests itself, Daniels and screenwriter Geoffrey Fletcher (using Sapphire’s source material) have created an authentic testament to the enduring powers of hope and the human spirit’s capacity to overcome. They’ve done so thanks to a fiercely intelligent performance by newcomer Gabourey ‘Gabby’ Sidibe, a compassionate eye for the circumstances surrounding their protagonist’s upbringing and a narrative that depicts misery but refuses to wallow in it.

Teenager Clareece “Precious” Jones (Sidibe) has suffered tremendously in her life. Twice impregnated by her father, terribly abused by her monstrous mother (Mo’Nique) and subject to unending harassment for being overweight, it’s a wonder she finds the strength to wake up each morning. Yet, she does. And when a kind teacher at school recommends an alternative educational program for her, she enrolls and finds there the opportunity to escape the bonds of her tormented upbringing.

The story unfolds in the everyday reality of the Harlem, circa 1987, that Precious inhabits and within her complex headspace, into which she disappears at the worst moments. Daniels renders the former in withdrawn, gritty visual tones that contrast with the richer colors of her fantasies of glamour and superstardom. The choice, and the regular transitions between the two universes, adds a depth to the picture that sets it apart from other depictions of urban malaise.

Understanding Precious the person is the key to understanding Precious the movie and the likely reason it’s proved such an unqualified success, both on the film festival circuit and at the box office. There’s developed a standard form for cinematic depictions of life in a city’s mean neighborhoods that — in its addiction to a formula of gun violence, hot rides, half dressed women and hip-hop infused soundtracks — has transformed a serious subject into a stultifying, chic cliché. In this picture, Daniels forgoes such accouterments, instead turning his focus to an individual that’d ordinarily exist on the periphery of such fare, as the butt of jokes.

It’s not hyperbole to suggest that the very act of taking Precious, a 350 pound black girl, seriously enough to center a film on her is one of great courage. Movies about women are frequently preoccupied by superficial beauty, emphasizing the so-called desirable appearance promulgated by our consumerist popular culture. Yet, this picture never condescends to Precious or her miserable situation. She’s not there to be laughed at, and though the dramatics between her and her mother are taken to a spectacularly heightened place, they’re rooted in the truths of the traumas of abuse.

At its core, Precious tells the story of a girl we’ve been trained to ignore. She seems to have nothing going for her, having faced an impossibly difficult, joyless life. Yet, Sidibe lets us in and reveals something very different. The actress imbues the character with dignity and strength. She holds herself high, keeps her cool and masters the art of reacting silently, communicating much while saying little. She shows us an individual who refuses to be broken, a person capable of acts of remarkable goodness and caring, dedicated to making a better life for herself and her children. Beaten down by her circumstances but never defeated, Precious needs someone, or something, to unlock her gifts and set her free. When that happens, when she derives a small sliver of happiness from her mountain of despair, the triumph feels earned, in a powerful way.

The Upside: The movie regards its unusual protagonist with enormous sympathy and insight. Lead actress Gabourey Sidibe is terrific, and director Lee Daniels has real vision.

The Downside: Occasionally, the grim circumstances of main character Precious’ life are so extreme they enter the realm of the absurd.

On the Side: Oprah Winfrey and Tyler Perry have both lent their support to the film as executive producers, and, through Friday, Box Office Mojo’s statistics had the film’s box office take at almost $14 million, an amazing haul.

The Messenger understands a fundamental truth of warfare: It always has two fronts, and many of the most important battles are fought without weapons and explosions. The picture takes place during the Iraq War, but the conflict it depicts is not between men with guns, or governments with agendas. First-time director Oren Moverman, a veteran screenwriter who wrote this one with Alessandro Camon, looks beyond the headlines in his depiction of the conflict and finds its core not in deserts thousands of miles away, but in the quiet streets and quaint living rooms that dot the American home front.

His protagonists have been given what’s deemed by many to be the worst job in the U.S. Army. Staff sergeant Will Montgomery (Ben Foster) and Captain Tony Stone (Woody Harrelson) are casualty notification officers, charged with reporting deaths overseas to next of kin. They’re the men every military family member doesn’t want to see, the nameless figures that pull up in a flash, report the worst of news and are gone. It’s a grim duty, and it’s one that has to this point been largely ignored by popular depictions of American military life.

Moverman understands the deep, powerful struggle that must accompany such constant grappling with death. He and Camon create characters with disparate methods for handling their job — Stone keeps his distance, Montgomery gets involved with a widow (Samantha Morton) and her stepson. What the men share, and what the filmmaker so powerfully evokes, is a profound helplessness, a sense of total inadequacy born out of the realization that there’s nothing they can do to prevent their endless round of tragic house calls. Stone disguises it with a blustery, comical demeanor and Montgomery broods in silence, but it’s there and over the course of the picture it slowly eats away at whatever shred of dignity they’ve retained.

The employment of a vérité approach spurred by the liberal use of handheld cameras lets the actors inhabit their characters with a rare totality of being. By frequently bringing things in close, emphasizing their stiff physicality, relying on periodic improvisation and valuing the lost art of the monologue, the filmmaker transforms the picture from an observational portrait into a work that truly lives and breathes alongside Montgomery and Stone. Moverman emphasizes their development over the advancement of a superficial plot. He trusts his terrific lead actors to imbue both the dialogue heavy scenes and the quieter moments with the fullness necessary to sustain audience interest. Harrelson, Foster and Morton reward his gamble.

Much has been written about the current conflict’s unsuitability as a film subject. Audiences, it’s said, want escapism from cinema and nothing more. The Messenger, which so successfully harkens back to a very different era of empathetic character driven storytelling, ought to challenge that thesis.

To Montgomery, Stone and their ilk politics don’t matter. Men and women live and die by the metaphoric sword somewhere else. In many respects, they face the most challenging burden of all. Left to sit and wait for bad news from abroad, there’s little to do but stew in their own guilt and helplessness, hoping like hell to make the best of a bad situation they can’t control. Army protocol, which teaches them to keep everything to themselves and avoid reaching out as humans to the fathers, mothers, sons and daughters they contact, only makes things worse.

However, The Messenger is more than the downbeat story of miserable people living miserable lives. In the deep friendships that form over the course of the picture, in the union of three hearts brought together by shared pain, it serves as a genuinely hopeful account of the small personal victories that can happen in a very different sort of combat: That between the heart and what Shakespeare called “the grief that does not speak.”

The Upside: The acting and directing are terrific; the screenplay is intelligent and deeply moving.

The Downside: Occasional slowness. That’s about it.

On the Side: Woody Harrelson has said in multiple interviews that the process of making this movie gave him a deeper appreciation of the sacrifices soldiers make than he’d ever had before.

Black Dynamite’s the latest in a long line of mean mother bleepers, stretching back to Sweetback, Shaft and the other legendary blaxploitation characters of that brief and inspired era of filmmaking during the early 1970s. Played with self-righteous fury by star/co-writer Michael Jai White he’s an inspired vision in a karate belt and matching headband, leather jacket and tweed suit.

In this affectionate send-up of a genre clearly close to the hearts of Jai White and director/co-writer Scott Sanders, the nunchuck-wielding, butt-kicking tough guy, on a quest to clean-up the hood, traverses a terrain populated by pimps, “the Man,” bountifully nude women and drug pushers. Black Dynamite is frenetically paced, overflowing with puns, knowing allusions and sharp in jokes, and in the laughs-per-minute department it exceeds any genre spoof since the heyday of Zuckerdom (Airplane!, The Naked Gun).

There’s perhaps no greater challenge than successfully pulling off one of these films, the art of which requires more than simply resurrecting a list of absurdities. To balance the checklist mentality of playing to the crowd’s expectations with substantive character and narrative arcs requires an extraordinary degree of precision, a deep rooted knowledge of the genre being played with and the art of storytelling. It also mandates that everything be done with the straightest face, as there’s nothing less funny than actors who are trying to be.

This production’s filled with the harmonious sense of all involved being attuned to those characteristic obstacles and bent on avoiding them. Jai White, Arsenio Hall and the rest of the ensemble perfect the straightforward approach, forgoing the sly tongue and cheek nature of lesser, knowing parodies for performances that could work unchanged in an actual blaxploitation picture. As played by Jai White, Black Dynamite — a walking and talking encapsulation of every cliché imaginable — is nonetheless a credible hero, so tough, well-meaning and proud in his embrace of black masculinity that one could easily imagine him being perceived as a point of pride some three decades ago.

The filmmaker imbues the picture with all the requisite continuity errors and non-sequiturs, as well as the faded yellows and grays of the standard gritty 16mm cinematography. It’s a nostalgically tinged rehashing of beloved stylistic visual tropes that embraces their datedness. The embellished dichotomies of the milieus being depicted contrast sharply. The bad guys are suited, company man Caucasians or outsized stereotyped mobsters, living in a privileged hedonistic world that differs from the pure, innocent ghetto Black Dynamite wants to save. Sanders understands that, as seen through a contemporary prism, the heightened urban jibe attitude, with its faux gritty sense of street life combating with institutionalized society at large, comes across as so inherently comical he needn’t have changed a thing.

He, Jai White and their co-writer Byron Minns have clearly digested a large volume of films from the period. There’s not a stone left unturned in their systematic dissection and there’s no absurdity left uncelebrated. The full on embrace of the stupidity, the charm and the admirably empowering qualities of the genre sets Black Dynamite apart. But, above all, it’s very, very funny.

The Upside: The movie is as funny as spoof since The Naked Gun.

The Downside: Because it’s so self-consciously insubstantial and absurd it’s not always the most memorable of movies.

On the Side: I’ve never heard as much laughter during any press screening as I did during Black Dynamite’s first at the 2009 Sundance Film Festival.

When New York author Colin Beaven launched the No Impact Man project in 2007, in which he and his family (wife Michelle and 2-year old daughter Isabella) would live in their Fifth Avenue co-op for a year without making any environmental impact, he did so with two motivations in mind. As a self-proclaimed activist, he wanted to live up to the values he preached by drawing public attention to the enormous amount of waste prevalent in an American culture rife with disposable goods. Secondly, he needed good material for his next book.

The entwinement of those classic dueling concerns lies at the heart of the project and the eponymous documentary by Laura Gabbert and Justin Schein that chronicles its unfolding. It’s also the root of a large degree of the distrust poured on Beaven once the national media got wind of his year without disposable items, non self-propelled transportation (i.e. not even mass transit) and, eventually, electricity as a whole. Yet, however one might view the man and his achievement, there’s no questioning its value as a provocation. In the often unfathomable details of the depths to which he and his surprisingly willing wife went to fulfill their mission, and the contentment they found therein, Beaven offers a stark reminder of just how plugged into consumerism we’ve become.

The vérité work of Gabbert and Schein presents the family with what appears to be an absence of embellishment and a minimal degree of selective editing. Distinct personalities emerge: the sincere, obsessed Colin contrasts nicely with the altogether more relatable Michelle, who cops to an addiction to caffeine and shopping, and seems to have a harder time adjusting to the “No Impact” standards. The film so thoroughly immerses itself in the details of their life together and the exploration of the ways the project impacts that shared existence that it functions as an affecting psychological drama in addition to promulgating Colin’s message. Here is a couple not unlike most others struggling with the challenge of reinvention and the best ways to instill the proper ideals in their young daughter.

The majority of the film turns on the spectacle of watching Colin and Michelle throw away every mundane convenience – the TV disappears, magazine subscriptions are canceled – and find new ways of daily living. This means lots of trips to a local farmer market, in keeping with the commitment to only eat locally, the incorporation of cloth diapers for Isabella, the disposal of every one of Michelle’s cosmetics, ample time spent in a community garden and a winter by candlelight. These adjustments often come across as miserable as they sound and the picture turns on a tangible sense of schadenfreude. When the family eats the various forms of vegetables that comprise their diet one feels a stirring sense of gratitude for the wonders of artificially enhanced food.

Yet, watching the family pursue the project with a full measure of intensity lets it achieve Colin’s primary goal. The “No Impact” year functions in the same fashion as any particularly effective attempt at a propagandist publicity stunt. The documentary makes clear that their work, a purposefully extreme attention grabber, enhanced the couple’s deep connection, better informed their future as parents and significantly reduced their carbon footprint. While copycats will be sparse and the environmental crisis has been spurred by far more deeply rooted problems than societal overuse of disposable goods, the “No Impact” project shows that sacrifice needn’t be painful and that sometimes the collective good matters most. At the very least, it inspires serious second thoughts the next time you leave the lights on, or your computer idling.

From writer-director Cherien Dabis, Amreeka takes on a loaded subject, strips it of its political ramifications and draws out the common humanity underwriting even the most divisive of hot button issues. About a Palestinian family struggling to adjust to immigrant life in America, the film turns on the everyday challenges, poignant small triumphs and burdens of the daily grind they face and strive to overcome. There’s no aggrandizing or preaching, just an understanding of the difficulties that arise in any sort of clash of cultures and the hopeful suggestion that, were we just more willing to talk to each other, some of them might be solved.

The picture, set in 2003 at the start of the U.S. invasion of Iraq, stars the wonderful actress Nisreen Faour as Muna Farah, mother to Fadi (Melkar Muallem), who seizes on the opportunity to move with her son from their restrictive West Bank home to small town Illinois, where her sister Raghda (Hiam Abbas) and brother-in-law Nabeel (Yussuf Abu-Warda) have lived for 15 years. The latter operates a successful medical practice and Muna arrives with dreams of continuing her career in banking. Yet she puts on a proud, determined face even as she’s reduced to working at a White Castle, xenophobia rears its ugly head and the marriage between Raghda and Nabeel faces a major test.

Dabis, an American of Palestinian and Jordanian descent, based the screenplay on her own experiences growing up in rural Ohio and the film reverberates with a clear sense of the day-to-day tempo of small town existence. She understands that the inherent dramatic conflict facing a family trying to preserve their way of life in a setting comprised largely of chain restaurants, bleak strip malls and ranch homes, so foreign to them it might as well be the moon, is strong enough that it requires little embellishment. So, she avoids the trap that has subsumed nearly every filmmaker to have attempted to tell a story that even indirectly touches on life in the modern Middle East. Instead of relying on heavy symbolism she opts for naturalism and subtlety. We don’t get a bunch of halfhearted wall metaphors or big speeches about Israeli injustice. The characters are not seized with distrust of Israelis or Jews, but a strong universal desire to live as freely as possible. Even during an early scene, in which Israeli soldiers suspiciously interrogate Fadi, Dabis keeps her camera trained on Faour, focused on the ways any mother might respond to such an occurrence, not as a cheap tool to provoke outrage at Palestinian suffering.

The true value of Amreeka lies in its steadfast commitment to zeroing in on as ordinary and recognizable a family as possible. They may be of Palestinian descent, they might speak an unfamiliar language and eat unfamiliar food, but at the heart of it they are us and we are them. The Farah-Halaby family worries about finding jobs, seeing their children through school and finding a happy medium between the culture they’ve left behind and the new one they’ve adopted, in the same basic fashion as most anyone who’s ever faced those common everyday concerns. They’re not zealots or activists; some days they’re open to the promises America has to offer. On others, they wish they could fly back home and once again occupy a recognizable, friendly world. Impeccably cast with actors who command attention and successfully wring pathos out of their evocation of a broad register of emotions — Faour with the authentic enthusiasm with which she strives to get ahead, Muallem with his intense shyness — the movie’s been made without embellishment or condescension. Instead, in the ways it finds the drama within the daily grind we’ve all experienced and transfers that overarching sense of normalcy to a Palestinian family the film achieves something that is, in its own small way, rather profound.

Earlier this evening we reported that Lee Daniels’ drama Push: Based on a novel by Sapphire won both the Dramatic Grand Jury and Audience Award Prizes for the 2009 Sundance Film Festival. While I was writing up the awards alert, I was sent over a scoop by a very reliable source that said that Lionsgate is very close to acquiring the U.S. distribution rights to the film. The source said that the deal may not be done yet, but that Lionsgate is working hard to get it done.

This would make for Lionsgate’s second acquisition of the festival. Earlier in the week they acquired James C. Strouse’s The Winning Season, starring Sam Rockwell. We are currently working to confirm this scoop, but don’t be surprised if it shows up in the trades before we are able to do so.

Update: Today the folks at Variety confirmed my scoop. In their report (which of course doesn’t credit me for breaking the news), Lionsgate has acquired the film and big names Oprah Winfrey and Tyler Perry will help in its promotion. Which is great news, seeing as it is a great film.

Continuing on with the lukewarm Sundance buyers market, Samuel Goldwyn has picked up the U.S. rights to director Sophie Barthes’ sci-fi drama Cold Souls, which stars Paul Giamatti as himself. In the film, which I reviewed positively at Sundance — and still continues to stick in my mind — Giamatti’s anxiety over a role on Broadway leads him to try a very experimental procedure in which his soul is removed and stored, leaving him to act without the hindrance of his dark emotions. All is well and good — even to the point of him leasing the soul of a Russian poet to help his artistic state — until a group of Russian soul smugglers steals his soul and delivers it to a ditzy soap opera star in St. Petersburg.

Its a very interesting and well-written film with a central performance from Giamatti that is a lot of fun. For more, check out my review from Sundance here. Reps from Samuel Goldwyn are saying that the distributor is eying a late summer release.

A little later this evening yours truly will be appearing on the /FilmCast’s Special Sundance Recap Show, where I will be joining some of my good friends from around the web to discuss some of the highlights — both inside and out of the theaters — from this year’s Sundance Film Festival. We’ll talk about the best movies, the best parties and the biggest disappointments. Also appearing on the show, which will be hosted by /FilmCast’s David Chen, will be Peter Sciretta from /Film, Alex Billington from FirstShowing.net and Laremy Legel from Film.com. As you know if you’ve been following along, this year’s Sundance Film Festival was a blast — but it was also an interesting experience. The effects of the economic crisis were felt, the film selection was incredibly unique and well, there were a few condo fights that made it onto the web. So we’ll have plenty to talk about, as well as field tons of questions from all of you.

To chat live and be a part of the action, head over to Slashfilm.com/Live at 7p EST / 4p PST.

Seriously, I want to see you all there — FSR represent! If for no other reason, you should check it out just to see what kind of trouble I am able to start during the show.

For more Sundance coverage, check out the links below:

Before I made my trip to Park City, Utah for the 2009 Sundance Film Festival I gave you a list of the 13 films I was most interested in seeing. And now that I’ve come and gone, surviving another year in the hustle and bustle of America’s great festival, it is my duty to bookend my coverage with a list of the best films of this year’s fest. In total, I saw 37 films during the 10 day festival and reviewed them all — for individual reviews, please feel free to head over to my Sundance ’09 Review Index. Out of those 37 came these 13, the almost undisputed best of the fest. And before we go any further, a disclaimer: If you are one of those nit-picky folks who is going to go back and compare the grades from my reviews to the order of these films, save yourself some time. The grades don’t exactly match — but looking back on the festival as a whole, these are the 13 best films, in order. (Click any of the titles below to see my full review)

13. Don’t Let Me Drown

Authentic and raw, the feature debut from director Cruz Angeles combined a smart, moving story with an amazing cast of youngsters. On the shoulders of their performances, Don’t Let Me Drown established itself quickly as one of the best dramas of the fest. Not to mention one of the best urban dramas we’ve seen in a long, long time. Think Boyz in the Hood meets Romeo and Juliet.

12. Black Dynamite

As predicted, Black Dynamite was funky fresh and filled with laughs. A cleverly written spoof on 70s Blaxploitation, Scott Sanders’ film is a badass throwback to an era of big hair, pimp canes and plenty of kung fu. With a hilarious delivery from the film’s star Michael Jai White and an assortment of fun characters, this movie starts with a burst of energy and never lets up. In the end my theory is that it is best served as midnight fair, but I have a feeling that it will still be enjoyable even when it hits DVD.

11. I Love You Philip Morris

This selection is the first in what will probably be a few romantic comedies on this list. What can I say, it was a really good year for romantic comedies, quirky or otherwise, at Sundance. And for every romantic comedy that did make it onto this list, there were probably 2-3 more that didn’t, but deserved to nonetheless. Philip Morris though, is a special one. Jim Carrey gives one of his career best performances as a resourceful gay conman who falls in love with one of his prisonmates (Ewan McGregor) and risks life, limb and dignity to find a way to be with him. I laughed, I cried (from the laughter, of course) and I was caught off guard by the films clever irreverance. Put simply, its as if the Farrelly Brothers and Coen Brothers teamed up — seriously.

10. The Girlfriend Experience

This year’s Sundance surprise screening — a surprise we all saw coming days in advance — was a look at a rough cut of Steven Soderbergh’s upcoming film The Girlfriend Experience. And despite the fact that Soderbergh’s last “on the fly” film Bubble was a wreck and the fact that he’d cast porn star Sasha Grey in the lead role, this one turned out to be great. The visuals were fantastic, the story was strong and the performance from Ms. Grey was a big surprise. Who knew that porn stars could act? Beyond that, who knew that Steven Soderbergh could actually pull of a solid film with minimal budget and scripting? I for one, was pleasantly surprised.

9. Mary and Max

Its hard to predict whether or not the opening night selection will be good or bad, even though we should assume that it will be good. And this year’s opening night selection, a claymation film about friendship, depression, autism, alcoholism, procreation and turtle flatulance was really something special. Director Adam Elliot’s attention to detail and ambitious storytelling made Mary and Max the perfect offbeat opening night film, setting the tone for a very unique slate of films throughout the entire festival.

8. An Education

Behold the rise of Carey Mulligan, Hollywood’s next ‘it’ girl. In this adapation of a novel by Nick Hornby, Mulligan shines on screen as a 16-year old British schoolgirl who willingly risks her bright future to follow an older, more cultured man into a world of art galleries, hip parties and weekends in Paris. Its a wonderfully directed 60s period piece, showing off a brilliant attention to detail and some amazing performances — not the least of which belonging to Ms. Mulligan.

7. The Yes Men Fix the World

Over the course of the fest’s final weekend I took in a few really awesome documentaries. Among them was the second film from the infamous activist troublemakers known as The Yes Men. In their sophomore effort, these sneaky anti-consumerists take on some of the world’s biggest corporate criminals in some of the most creative ways you could possibly imagine. And all along the way, we get to have a lot of fun as we watch their devious schemes play to near perfection. No matter where you sit on the political fence, there is no denying that these guys have a certain charm about them.

6. Push: Based on a novel by Sapphire

Winner of both the Dramatic Grand Jury Prize and the Audience Award — this doesn’t happen often. But underneath all the acclaim, Lee Daniels’ film is a brutal yet hopeful story told through a few fantastic performances. It is shocking, tragic and at times very intense, but it never loses its amazing energy, making it an overwhelmingly special moviegoing experience. It also gets bonus points for being the first film to prove that Mariah Carey might be able to act.

5. Moon

Sam Rockwell was all over this year’s festival, and for good reason — he had two great performances in two different, but good film. The best of the two was Moon, from director Duncan Jones. A truly amazing achievement in indie filmmaking, Jones crafts the engaging story of a man whose mind begins to slip away as he finishes a 3-year term as the solo operator of a mining station on the surface of the moon. It goes beyond his mental state though, dealing with layer upon layer of interesting themes, including corporate responsibility and genetic manipulation. It’s a must-see for anyone who loves a clever bit of sci-fi in their life.

4. We Live in Public

If you are reading this article, then this is the documentary for you. Before YouTube and MySpace allowed us to sacrifice personal privacy for moments of internet fame, there was Josh Harris. Describes as the greatest internet pioneer you’ve never heard of, Harris is the subject of director Ondi Timoner’s fascinating doc. We follow along as Harris creates a cult-like experiment in a bunker in NYC, broadcasts his relationship and mental meltdowns across a fledgling internet and ultimately becomes so connected to technology that it drives him mad. Its riveting, insightful and for lack of a better word, frightening for anyone who spends their time online.

3. Mystery Team

Many of you were already familiar with the Derrick Comedy group prior to the release of their first feature film. They are the cats that brought us popular online shorts such as “Bro Rape” and “Blowjob Girl.” And while those videos, each earning millions of views on YouTube, are hilarious, you haven’t seen anything like the shenanigans they pull off in Mystery Team. Trust me, this is something entirely different and even more ridiculous — which translates into even more fun.

2. 500 Days of Summer

I have a rule about Zooey Deschanel — if she’s in a movie, I’m seeing it. And nine times out of ten, I’m also liking it. This is no exception. In fact, 500 Days of Summer is the epitome of what I love about quirky romantic comedies. It sports some really charismatic performances from Zooey and Joseph Gordon Levitt (among others), has a killer soundtrack and is delivered in a very clever and unique way. That and it has a really infectious quality about it — the kind of film that makes you want to see it over and over again.

1. World’s Greatest Dad

The minute I walked out of the press screening for Bobcat Goldthwait’s super-dark comedy about teen suicide, I knew that it was the best film of the festival. Never have I laughed so hard at such off-color material than in that room. Combining a dark sensibility with two fantastic performances from Robin Williams and Spy Kids’ Daryl Sabara, Goldthwait has delivered a comedy that exists on another level — a comedy so provacotive and dark that no studio would dare make it. A comedy made with two giant brass balls.

Sundance may be over and all of my reviews may be posted, but there is still a ton of cool stuff that I’d like to share with all of you. Chief among those things are some video profiles of some of Sundance’s emerging talents. Among those talents is Humpday director Lynn Shelton, who brought together a talented cast of ‘mumblecore’ veterans to create the hilarious tale of two heterosexual friends and their artistic dreams of having sex with each other on camera. While it was perhaps the most uncomfortable film to watch at times, it was also one of the most charming — and certainly one of the funniest of this year’s festival.

What’s most impressive about Humpday is that like the other mumblecore movies, it was made without a script. But it doesn’t feel like it. In fact, it feels just as cleverly written as any of the other comedies screened this year in Park City. And as Shelton explained to Karina Longworth at Spout, it is all about the collaboration between her and her cast:

I really, really, really wanted to have a strong narrative drive in this film. And I believe that you can do that without writing a script. To make it more accessible to some people, the best way I can describe it is that it’s a lot like Mike Leigh. He goes through months of improvisation and he uses the words of the actors, he doesn’t write the words himself. He lets the actors do that and he just writes it down and then rehearses the shit out of that script and makes a movie.

I do the exact same thing, except that instead of writing down those words, I write the final draft in the edit room. It really is the same. After months of developing their characters in tandem with them and already having a loose plot, as the characters are developed I’m getting the plot tighter and tighter and tighter. And I’m letting them contribute but I’m ultimately the one who says, “No, I really want this to happen.” And then by the time we get on set, we really have all the components of a script, except for the actual script. So I can’t emphasis that enough. It’s really the opposite of showing up without a script and saying, “Let’s make a movie.” You know what I mean?

For a little further information, the official Sundance YouTube channel has posted a little featurette about Shelton, who won a Special Grand Jury Prize for “The Spirit of Independence” for her work on Humpday. The film was acquired by Magnolia Pictures, who intends to release it theatrically and on On-Demand sometime in August. We will keep you posted on that — for now, just check out the video below.

Of all the movies that play every year at the Sundance Film Festival, it is the shorts that really don’t get enough love. Thankfully, the ‘dance programmers put some of the better shorts in front of certain movies. This brilliant little short, Treevenge, played to the raucous crowds that lined up to see midnight screenings of the Nazi Zombie flick Dead Snow. Treevenge is an awesome slice of horror from the guys at Yer Dead Productions, the same lot that created the now infamous grindhouse trailer Hobo with a Shotgun. It tells the story a group of pine trees who are savagely cut down and sold off to unsuspecting human families as Christmas decorations. Little do these families know about the terror that they are inflicting upon these poor, helpless trees. And even littler do they know about what’s in store for them on Christmas morning. Say it with me — a massacre.

For anyone who loves an alternative holiday story, Treevenge is a glorious little piece of horror heaven. It is bloody, brutal and loads of fun — as you will see from the clip below. I had a chance to meet the creative team behind the short, including director Jason Eisener and producer Rob Cotteril, and I can tell you that its always refreshing to meet a group of filmmakers with such passion for their work. I am certain that while Treevenge is a beautifully executed mini-flick, the best is yet to come from these fine fellows.

For more information, check out the film’s official website Treevenge.com or visit the film’s Facebook Group. Have a look at a bloody hilarious clip below.

Every year in Park City, the folks who program the Sundance Film Festival try their hardest to save the best for last. The last Sunday of the festival is always reserved for screenings of the award winning films. And assuming the festival’s jury picks the right movies, it usually leads to late-fest audiences being delighted with some of the most impressive films of that particular year. And as a member of the press, I am only ever able to request two tickets for that final day. The safe bet — and the one I always go with — is to request a ticket two each of the final two screenings at the massive Eccles theater, to see the winners of both the Grand Jury Prize and the Audience Award in the dramatic category. This usually means that I will be able to see the two best films of the festival. Of course this year I was thrown for a loop as both of these awards were given to the same movie, Lee Daniels’ urban drama Push: Based on a novel by Sapphire. It is a rare occurrence, happening only 3 other times in the 25 year history of the festival, so I was instantly curious to see what the fuss was all about.

What I found on that final snowy afternoon was the touching and tragic story of Precious Jones (Gabourey Sibide), an obese high school girl against whom the world appears to be working. She is pregnant with her father’s child — for the second time. She can’t read or write, and her schoolmates tease her about her weight. Her home life is also horrific, ruled by a mother (Mo’Nique) who keeps her imprisoned both emotionally and physically, telling her that her best course in life isn’t school, but rather to get herself to the welfare line and collect her check. But instead of submitting to her mother’s will, Precious trusts her instincts and finds a welcoming atmosphere in an alternative education program where she’s taken under the wing of a kind-hearted young teacher (Paula Patton). But even though she’s beginning to learn to read and write — skills that will hopefully lead her away from the ignorance and torture of her home life — precious finds that breaking free isn’t as easy as just walking away.

It may sound depressing — and at times it is — but Push is a lot more than that. The film is pulsating with an unexpected energy and vibrancy. While her home life is stunningly brutal and unforgiving, it is in Precious’ hopes and dreams where we see her true spirit. And through an incredibly well-adapted script by Damien Paul and an illuminating performance from Gabourey Sibide we are able to find a shining ray of hope in the stories central character, even as the most horrific things are happening to her. Similar words can be written about the rest of the cast, not the least of which being Mo’Nique. Her performance — an explosion of raw emotion — is one of those special performances that could transcend all of the Oscar campaigning and marketing that we see this time of the year. Her performance alone is so breathtaking that it is likely to leave you in a state of shock upon the rolling of the credits. Not as shocking, but impressive nonetheless are the performances of Lenny Kravitz and Mariah Carey, both of whom have never really shown any acting chops in the past. Pay attention, otherwise you might miss both of them as their characters are nothing like what you’d expect from two singers dipping their toes in the acting water.

It’s hard not to pay attention to a film that is as well-crafted and engaging as this one. And though its subject matter is sometimes off-putting, it is anchored by a character who — with creativity, humor, ferocity and charm — makes the decision to turn her life around. It is a truly courageous effort by Lee Daniels, whose made a film that is a stark contrast to his previous work on Shadowboxer. His second film is something special, something unique and worthy of your time, worthy of all the praise it has received. I’m happy to have saved it for last — because even though it wasn’t a dark comedy or a quirky romantic comedy like some of my other favorites from this year’s fest, it was certainly indicative of the diversity of this year’s festival. It was also indicative of the talented filmmakers and casts who brought films to Park City — in a year when sales were slow, it is easy to see that the quality of the films rose to the occasion. And for my money, Push was certainly near the top.

One of the biggest secrets about the Sundance Film Festival is the quality of its documentaries — and though Robert Redford and crew try hard to highlight the exquisite non-fiction section of their yearly independent library, the doc categories are often overshadowed by the bigger, more accessible mainstream releases. But if you think about it, Sundance is the place for docs. It has been home to films such as Morgan Spurlock’s Super Size Me, Eugene Jarecki’s insightful WWII doc Why We Fight and my own personal best film of 2008, James Marsh’s Man on Wire, among others. So as I continue to close down my coverage of the 2009 festival, I’ve saved three awesome docs for the end. Here we will take a look at two creative activists, a man on a mission for a smaller carbon footprint and the wacky story of the greatest internet pioneer you’ve never heard of.

The Yes Men Fix the World

Be still my liberal activist heart — who knew that such an engaging and fun documentary could be formed around fighting corporate greed and government corruption. For those not familiar with the “Yes Men,” they are a group of guys who practice what they call “identity correction” by pretending to be powerful people and spokespersons for prominent organizations. They create and maintain fake websites similar to ones they want to spoof, and then they accept invitations received on their websites to appear at conferences, symposia, and TV shows. In 2003 they released a DVD documentary called The Yes Men which was received with a generous mix of positive and negative sentiments from the public, and have brought their follow-up film The Yes Men Fix the World to Sundance to once again stir up some controversy. In the film, the dynamic duo of Andy Bichlbaum and Mike Bonanno take on an assortment of causes, everything from the Dow Chemical company’s failure to properly deal with a 20-year old tragic factory explosion in Africa that left a city in ruins, to impersonating a director of H.U.D. to help solve the housing crisis of New Orleans in the wake of Hurricane Katrina, to a “Special Edition” of The New York Times dated July 4, 2009 that featured articles about things that should be happening in the world.

In their creative and energetic documentary, these two Yes Men take on ‘the man’ in a very big way. Initially their antics can be seen as adolescent pranks, but as the film wears on and the layers are peeled back we discover that Bichlbaum and Bonanno are very earnest activists, hell-bent on changing reality — even if its momentary — and exposing some of the world’s biggest criminals. And even though they are extreme in their tactics and deliver — even going as far as to liken free marketeers to the Jonestown Cult — their intentions are noble and for the most part, their film provides important commentary that is irrefutably relevant to our nation’s current economic situation. Delivered with a heroic swagger and perpetrated by two men, each with serious cajones, The Yes Men Fix the World is a call to activism, a further testament to the change the world needs and, overall, a well-crafted and entertaining film. Unless you are one of those uptight conservative weenies that thinks that our market system will just ‘fix itself,’ you should find a lot to applaud in this energetic and witty doc.

No Impact Man

Here’s another guy you might have heard of before. His name is Colin Beavan, and he is a non-fiction writer and blogger from New York City who is noted for recording the attempts of he and his family to live a zero impact lifestyle for one whole year. The goal was to live without many of the common comforts of an American life — electricity, processed foods, paper products, motorized transportation — to see how low he could go with his impact on the environment. Joined by his wife Michelle Conlin, a writer for Business Week, and their young daughter, Beavan took to riding his bike, composting his trash and only eating foods grown within a local radius.

An interesting concept for a social experiment (and subsequently, an interesting documentary concept), the story of Beavan and his family is definitely an engaging one. His wife Michelle though, is certainly the most interesting subject of the entire documentary as she struggles with having to give up her consumptive lifestyle. No more expensive handbags, no more riding around in cars and most especially, no more Starbucks coffee. The most engaging part of it all is watching Michelle’s struggles with wanting to cheat on the experiment and her ultimate acceptance and lessons learned from the ordeal. The only problem that we run into is that the film runs a little slow. Directors Laura Gabbert and Justin Schein, neither of whom are strangers to making solid docs, do a good job of capturing the more engaging moments from a year’s worth of experience, but falter a bit in the creation of a complete narrative. Getting in the way is the focus on the countless media appearances that cause a rash of criticism about the integrity of the project. Is Beavan’s work hypocritical or visionary? Is he self-promoting or is he making an earnest attempt to help people see the ways that we can all minimize our impact on the environment? The answers to these questions seem to be left on the table as the documentary roles to a close, leaving us to formulate our own answers. Either way, we cannot deny that the doc itself is a very intimate and engaging look at some of those ‘changes’ we often talk about, but never muster the courage to enact in our own lives. If anything, No Impact Man is an effective, though extreme, example of what it really means to be conscious of our environment.

We Live in Public

It seems fit that the last documentary I will be reviewing form this year’s festival is the one that hit closest to home. Like many of you, I make my home on the internet. My thoughts about movies and entertainment make up my day job, I’ve broadcasted myself audibly and visually across this digital wasteland and for the most part, I’ve aired quite a lot of myself in the process. To me, the thought of exposing almost every detail of ones life to thousands of people via the internet isn’t at all foreign — it is more or less a common element of today’s web-driven society. But back in the 90s this wasn’t the case — at least to everyone but a man named Josh Harris. Often called the “Warhol of the Web,” Harris founded Pseudo.com, the first Internet television network and went on to create his own voyeuristic vision of the future, an underground bunker in NYC where 100 people lived together on camera for 30 days over the millennium. Through this and other experiments — including the six month long 24/7 broadcasting of his home life with his girlfriend that led to his mental breakdown — Harris proved that in the not-so-distant future we would all willingly trade our personal privacy for the connection and recognition we all deeply desire.

And as it turns out — and as award-winning director Ondi Timoner’s colorful documentary shows us — he was right. Years before YouTube, Facebook and Twitter made our lives instantly accessible to the world, Josh Harris was testing the theory — a theory that would ultimately drive him and his subjects mad. Combining archival footage from Harris’ many projects with interviews with dot-com entrepreneurs such as Jason Calacanis, Timoner weaves together Harris’ thread of antics in an engaging and upbeat way. It’s impressive, to say the least, seeing as the doc spans such a great deal of Harris’ life, to imagine what a task it must have been for Timoner and team to chip away at the countless hours of footage to create such a delightfully coherent narrative. The result is a documentary that is not only accessible to those not familiar with Harris’ life, but one that also hits very close to home for a new generation of web denizens. If you are reading this review, then you should absolutely see this documentary. It might have you taking a second look at how you live your own virtual life.

Of all the films that I went to see at Sundance this year, I’ve got the sneaking suspicion that the majority of you are most interested in hearing my thoughts about Tommy Wirkola’s Dead Snow. Call me crazy, but the idea of Nazi Zombies attacking unsuspecting young people in the snowy mountains of Norway just has a certain charm. So I set out late on Thursday night, up the Main Street hill in Park City toward the iconic marquee of the Egyptian Theater — a theater rich in history — with the intention of immersing myself in another unique and potentially fun genre film. And with Whiskey and Cider in hand (sold at the theater, which is brilliant), I joined the single most energetic and excited crowds of this year’s festival as we watched the spectacle unfold.

Now for the sake of full-disclosure, I am a believe that a great movie theater experience can make a movie more enjoyable. Being preceded by an awesome short called Treevenge and aided by an electrified crowd full of drunken Sundancers certainly took Dead Snow to another level. It’s a simple story — a group of sexually charged med students head to a comically isolated mountain cabin to spend their Easter holiday smoking, drinking and sexing by the fire. Little do they know that their cabin is right in the middle of an area with a rich history of Nazi occupation. Led by the dastardly Col. Herzog, a group of 300 Nazi soldiers terrorized and looted a small Norwegian town back toward the end of WWII. Fed up with these horrific acts, the townsfolk set out into the mountains to fight back but were never able to find the soldiers. Years later, the aforementioned Nazis have inexplicably become zombies with a thirst for gold — and blood.

Almost schyzofrenically, Dead Snow energetically skis through what I like to call its three different personalities. In act one it is a straightforward horror flick, reliant upon shadow games and jump scares to keep us on edge. This seems all well and good — especially for an audience looking to unwind through the sacred art of scream therapy — at least until we get into the second act. In act two, the film changes gears and becomes something of a horror comedy. The Nazi zombies are revealed to be fast-running (ugh) undead prone to silly theatrics and, for lack of a better term, intestinal fortitude (there are more than a few scenes in which a zombie’s intestines are used in a similar manner as rope). And down the home stretch we get another change of pace, from horror comedy to pure gore. As the human characters — about whom we really never care thanks to a lack of development and/or charm — begin to mount their great escape, the torture porn lovers in the crowd are treated to a series of ridiculous blood-splattering moments, not the least of which is the clip we showed you before Sundance of a man cutting off his own arm with a chainsaw. It’s bloody, but not necessarily brilliant.

The overall experience — once you strip away the glossy veneer of an awesome midnight crowd in Park City — is one that is as familiar as it is entertaining. Put simply, Dead Snow was a fun ride that we’ve ridden before. And just because it happens in the snow, or involves Nazis, doesn’t make it an original work of horror. Nor does it make it any good. This film’s only hope is that it plays at midnight shows in the nation’s ripe arenas — the Alamo Drafthouses and New Beverlys of America. Those sacred places where excited (and inebriated) moviegoers can go to enjoy the communal experience of such a bloody affair. My guess, though, is that this film will be most often seen on DVD — and in that arena, it is sure to disappoint.

Perhaps this year’s most buzzed about Sundance movie, director Lone Scherfig’s period drama accomplished more than few things during its Sundance ’09 run. First and foremost, it was one of the most well-executed period films of the festival, bringing to life 1960s Britain in a very authentic way. Secondly, it was one of the best written movies of the festival, deserving of its World Cinema Dramatic Audience Award. And finally, it was one of two movies that helped introduce the world to 22-year old actress Carey Mulligan, who has been likened to Audrey Hepburn with her classic beauty and undeniable charm.

Set in 1961, An Education tells the story of Jenny (Mulligan), an attractive, smart 16-year old London girl headed for an Oxford education and the life that her strict father (Alfred Molina) has always envisioned for her. That is, until she meets David (Peter Sarsgaard), a wealthy, cultured 30-year old who takes her to fancy resaurants, art galleries and connects her with the chic French fair that she’s always dreamed of. Resourceful in nature, David tells extravagant lies to Jenny’s parents in order to allow her to spend time with him and his free spirited friends (Dominic Cooper and Rosamund Pike). But as Jenny gets closer and closer to David, she begins to question whether or not this new chic lifestyle with David is worth sacrificing her future.

Crafted by Nick Hornby — who authored one of my favorite books/films of all-time High Fidelity – Jenny’s story is a clever, engaging coming-of-age tale that calls back to the 1960s in a very authentic way. We are witness to the unraveling of Jenny’s traditional upbringing and her maturation through life experience, something that doesn’t exactly come easy. And even though she is warned by almost everyone in her life — including her favorite school teacher and her school’s headmistress, played by Olivia Williams and Emma Thompson respectively — Jenny seems intent on discovering for herself whether or not David holds the keys to the life she’s always dreamed about.

In the capable hands of Lone Scherfig, An Education is both lively and touching. Most of its charm, of course, comes from the performance of Carey Mulligan. She glows on screen, delivering a performance that is as enchanting and captivating as any we’ve seen in a long while. Alfred Molina also delivers some explosive moments as Jenny’s father, who is constantly caught in the push-pull between his long-held dream of sending his brilliant daughter to Oxford and his desire to see her “taken care of.” The film is also filled with an array of other solid performances — including those of the beautiful Olivia Williams and Dominic Cooper, who plays David’s sensible best friend. The only one that feels out of place at any point is Peter Sarsgaard, who does as fine job as the urbane, witty David, but seems to be playing a role meant for someone like Ewan McGregor instead.

With these great performances and an exceptional handle on Hornby’s brilliant script, Scherfig is able to bring the many layers of this story to vivid life. The production design from Andrew McAlpine (The Piano) is also top-notch, bringing 1960s London to the screen with a strong attention to detail. It provides ample environment for these impressively well-crafted characters to charm us and engage us in their stories. It is the combination of great story, great attention to detail and great performances that makes An Education a truly unforgettable coming-of-age story — the kind of movie that you see at Sundance and hope to see breakthrough later in the year. If there is any justice in the world of movies, Lone Scherfig’s film will make a big splash and its leading lady will become Hollywood’s next it girl.

Strange, sweet and a little sci-fi. That is how this next selection of Sundance 2009 selections role. As we continue to roll through the end of my coverage of Sundance’s 2009 frame, we take a look at a wildly experimental and odd little film, a sweet romantic comedy telling us a familiar story in an unfamiliar way and a Japanese sci-fi movie that finds some deeper meaning.

The Immaculate Conception of Little Dizzle

Nothing that I screened at Sundance this year was more strange and oddly charming as The Immaculate Conception of Little Dizzle. It follows the story of Dory (Marshall Allman), a 20-something computer programming in the midst of a crisis of faith who is forced to find new work after being laid off from his job — mostly thanks to a wild outburst toward an annoying cubicle-mate. With job prospects low, Dory turns to scrubbing toilets with a brown-collar band of janitorial misfits as a means to an end. Unbeknownst to any of them, they are made the subjects of a bizarre experiment involving a deliciously, but dangerous cookie additive. The cookies are injected with a special chemical that gives them an “oven fresh” warmth as they are eaten. They also cause the male janitors to experience intense hallucinations, mood swings and quasi-pregnancies that produce small, immaculately conceived neon blue fish that are birthed through their, er, asses.

As you can imagine, no matter its faults — and for most moviegoers there may be a few — the one sure thing about writer/director David Russo’s first feature film is that you’ve probably never seen anything like it. Like a wild acid trip, Little Dizzle is wildly imaginative in both concept and delivery. Combining highly existential dialog with some intense digital imagery, it handily delivers a story filled with interwoven themes about faith and corporate greed. It also delivers one of the most interesting sex scenes I’ve seen on screen in a while — courtesy of some unique camera work and the performances of Lost’s Tania Raymonde and Tygh Runyan. And speaking of performances, that of Vince Vieluf — who plays the O.C., the leader of the janitorial misfits — is the driving force of much of the film’s comedy. Together with Allman, his performance brings the story full-circle in a relatively coherent manner. And even though the story is filled with innovative animation and often dizzying visual effects, its story is still easily understood. As one character explains, “just because you don’t get it, doesn’t mean its a bad idea.” In this case we do get it, and we can see quite clearly that its a good idea, no matter how wild it gets.

Peter and Vandy

For those of you who have been following my Sundance coverage all week, this next story might sound familiar. Peter and Vandy is a pretty straightforward relationship story told in a non-traditional way. Bouncing back and forth between different moments of their relationship, it tells of the highs and lows between Peter (Jason Ritter) and his beloved Vandy (Jess Weixler). Juxtaposing their sweet, romantic beginning with the oft-intense bickering that erodes their connection, this film provides its audience the opportunity to explore moments in the couple’s relationships that can be seen in a different context when taken in out of order. And much like another Sundance film — Mark Webb’s 500 Days of Summer — the audience is easily engaged in a cat-and-mouse game with the film’s two leads as we try to discover what went so right and what went so wrong.

And much like 500 Days, this film is anchored by two very strong central performances. Jason Ritter and Jess Weixler exhibit a pitch-perfect chemistry on screen, giving a welcomed authenticity to their relationship’s good and bad moments. The dialog, adapted from an acclaimed play by the film’s own writer/director Jay DiPietro, is also quite clever and full of wit. The problem that we run into with Peter and Vandy is that unlike 500 Days, it isn’t structurally sound. This film’s non-linear structure struggles with keeping its audience aware of the context of each scene. And though it does tie itself up in the end, I spent much of the film’s first two acts actively checking my brain in failed attempts to figure where I was in the couple’s timeline. For those who enjoy a story told in a very, sometimes damagingly offbeat way, Peter and Vandy is just as charming and well-acted as 500 Days of Summer. But if you’re like me and you sometimes like to have your hand held, sometimes like your romantic comedies with a straightforward simplicity, then it can make for a frustrating experience. Either way, both films are worth seeing — as they are both very sweet and unique.

The Clone Returns Home

One of the pleasant surprises about this year’s Sundance lineup was the subtle infusion of science fiction — real science fiction, not that fake science fantasy crap that Hollywood continues to shove down our throats — into the dramatic competitions. Right alongside Sophie Barthes’ smart exposition about the human soul in Cold Souls and Duncan Jones’ space clone thriller Moon is Japanese-born director Kanji Nakajima’s wildly imaginative tale The Clone Returns Home. A work of deeply philosophical science fiction, Clone follows the story of Kohei, a young astronaut who agrees to participate in an experimental cloning program before he embarks on his mission into space. The goal of the program is to be able to regenerate his body and reanimate him should he die. And when he is killed during one of his space missions, scientists are able to successfully regenerate his clone. The only problem is that something has gone wrong in the restoration of the clone’s memory, causing him to regress back to Kohei’s youth and the accidental death of his twin brother. Freaked out by what is happening around him, the clone flees the lab where he’s been created and heads for his childhood home. Along the way he finds his own lifeless body near a river bed in a space suit and mistakes it for his brother. All the while, the scientists work to bring to life another Kohei incarnation, hoping to figure out why the clone’s memories were defective.

It gets out there — in a wildly imaginative and existential way — but Kanji Nakajima’s film also touches brilliantly upon life and death, exploring the nature of identity, the life cycle of one’s soul and the ethical responsibilities of science (without being preachy in any way). It is also delivered with a very clean visual style, combining stunning set pieces with several stunning, long panning shots to engage the audience in a world that is somewhere between the near future and a transcendental meta-reality. Nakajima also expertly uses both and evocative score and brilliantly placed silences to accentuate the film’s most dramatic moments. The only problem to be had with the film is that it runs a little long — probably about 15 minutes or so north of tolerable. Its slow developing story does become a bit tedious at some point, leaving the late night audience that I shared a theater with somewhat disenfranchised from the otherwise innovative story. And though slow, it is also a very ambitious work, one that touches on the metaphysical and spiritual aspects of cloning. I don’t see it splashing big among mainstream crowds, but for any lover of science fiction or aspiring filmmaker, The Clone Returns Home is a very interesting and unique experience — one that can be appreciated for its brave exploration of the human soul and ample execution of a very high concept story.

As I continue to catch up on the remaining 12 reviews from this year’s Sundance Film Festival, I must begin with a warning: these may get a little short. Length aside, I still intend to delight you with my hyperbole, rattle you with some biting commentary and hopefully get you excited about some of the great films that I was able to see this year – films that may or may not ever make it to a theater near you. In this edition of ‘Neil’s Lazy Sundance Capsule Reviews,’ we take a look at a Hollywood insider comedy, a neo-noir detective story and a wild ride through the mind of Britain’s most famous (and dangerous) prisoners of all-time.

Shrink

From director Jonas Pate and writer Thomas Moffett, Shrink follows the story of Henry Carter (Kevin Spacey), a Los Angeles psychiatrist with an A-list clientele, including an aging actress (Sapphron Burrows), an insecure young writer (Mark Webber) and a comically neurotic, obsessive-compulsive power agent (Dallas Roberts). Having just lost his wife to a suicide, Henry finds it difficult to treat his patients as his own belief in humanity begins to erode. That is, until he takes on the pro-bono case of a troubled teenage girl from a bad part of town. In treating this new patient, Henry begins to question whether or not his current state of mind is right for the treatment of patients. If he himself cannot come to terms with his troubled situation, how can he possibly “fix” others?

In this often punchy yet tragic story, Moffett and Pate have brought in a host of classic Hollywood archetypes. Or rather, a host of Hollywood stereotypes — the neurotic agent, a sex-addicted star (via a great cameo from Robin Williams) and a tortured screenwriter — and bounced them off each other with the use of a little happenstance. While the dialog is clever and some of the performances are very solid, the story seems to be too neat and tidy to be credible in the end. Among the strong performances is that of Kevin Spacey, who once again exhibits masterful control over his character. The audience is given an intimate look into the troubled mind of Henry — which works, even though it is dashed together with a few too many music video-esque scenes of melodrama. The performance from Dallas Roberts is also notable, as he channels a germaphobe version of Entourage’s Ari Gold. And just like Jeremy Piven, Roberts is able to craft a performance that gives his character a level of likability, despite the fact that he’s mostly an insufferable ass. Overall the film’s dialog is cleverly written, but the story is poorly paced and the characters teeter on the line between authentic and implausible. Not a bad film by any means, just one that gets in its own way and fails to ever show ambition beyond being a formulaic Hollywood insider dramedy.

The Missing Person

As an admirer of noir and some of the more recent modern noir films — including, but not limited to Rian Johnson’s brilliant effort Brick — I was intrigued off the bat by writer/director Noah Buschel’s The Missing Person. I was also turned on to the idea by the film’s leading man, Michael Shannon, who has long been one of my favorite “that guys.” In Missing Person, Shannon stars as John Rosow, a cynical (and mostly inebriated) private detective who is hired by a powerful law firm to tale a mysterious middle-aged man and a young Mexican boy across the country. Once he tails them all the way to Santa Monica, he is given a new objective: he must now bring the man back to New York, a city filled with bad memories for Rosow. The good news is that he is being paid a cool half million dollars for his services. Of course, as Rosow continues further down the rabbit hole — one filled with an interesting assortment of characters including a Catholic cabbie, an uptight L.A. cop, meddling FBI agents and a few sexy, dangerous dames — he begins to unravel a twisted tale that helps him see himself in a different light in the end.

Following along with the classic noir structure, Missing Person succeeds on the shoulders of Michael Shannon, whose gruff, witty and flawed Rosow is perfectly executed. And though it suffers mightily from pacing issues, the film also delivers some fun with some intentionally odd, campy dialog. Unfortunately, I would be hard pressed to find an accessibility in this film as its dry, sardonic and often passive nature could be a turnoff to anyone who goes into it looking for some straightforward piece of mainstream filmmaking. No, this is a film for the crime drama cinephile — who will easily connect this character with those of Elliott Gould and find refuge in its numerous Serpico references. To others it may come off as a drab, sometimes confusing film that mixes classic noir elements with modern events. To say the least, it may be a bit to ambitious (and too slow) to be accessible to Joe the moviegoer. But if you’re in it for a love of noir, its actually a refreshingly classic and well-crafted piece of work — one that shows the continued promise of its young director.

Bronson

“Sometimes independent movies get too weird for me.” This is a statement that I’ve heard far too often, mostly born of ignorance toward the world of independently financed cinema. The truth is that indie films are often given the opportunity to be a little more experimental or ambitious than anything made within the studio system — and for some of us, that is a good thing. Take for example writer/director Nicolas Winding Refn’s violent, twisted film Bronson, based on the true story of Britain’s most famous and violent prisoner Charlie Bronson. Sentenced to 7-years in prison in 1974 for robbing a post office, Bronson found quickly that he was most at home in the correctional system of Her Majesty. In his new found “hotel room,” Charlie could practice his art, painting the walls red with his vicious taste for violence. After being sent to a mental institution where he is drugged heavily, Bronson still manages to hold on to his defiant and perversely violent nature. And though he’s ultimately released, he quickly finds himself right back in prison, the only place he really feels at home. There he is placed in an art program where once again he finds an outlet for his art — the art of fighting.

While I’m not all too familiar with Refn’s Pusher trilogy, I will admit to being impressed by his work on Bronson. Here he allows us the opportunity to walk around inside the wild, mangled psyche of an infinitely interesting and eccentric character. In a very Kubrickian way, Refn fills his film with an aesthetic that conforms with the eccentricities of his main character. There is plenty of twisted imagery and pounding musical moments — thanks to a killer soundtrack from Wagner and the Pet Shop Boys. He also achieves a very distinct visual tone for the film, mixing dark reds with some wildly vibrant stage moments in which Bronson provides narration for his story. Anchoring it all is the performance of Tom Hardy, seen most recently in Guy Ritchie’s RocknRolla, as Charlie Bronson. Hardy goes all out, delivering an electrifying performance that fits perfectly into this violent, theatrical story. In the end we are rooting for — and terrified by — a character addicted to fame, addicted to being the horrifyingly violent hero of his own story. Put simply, its weird but intensely entertaining all at the same time. If you’ve got a taste for violence or a love of hyper-stylized, brutal films, this one is for you.

As the 2009 Sundance Film Festival comes to a close, it is time as always for the Juries and Audiences to recognize the best of this year’s festival. It’s not as exciting as my forthcoming ‘Best of Sundance’ article, but it is apparently more prestigious. This evening at the Racquet Club in Park City, the directors of the Sundance Institute welcomed attendees to the 25th annual awards. According to IndieWire, Sundance Institute Exec. Director Ken Brechar began the festival with comments about one of the most buzzed events at the festival, one that happened thousands of miles away. “When we began this festival, George Bush was the President of the United States and we ended it with Barack Obama,” Brecher said, eliciting cheers from the crowd. He then held up a special festival badge recognizing President Obama as the honorary head of this year’s jury.

Political talk aside — and who can blame them, the inauguration was sort of a big thing — the festival awards recognized a very diverse range of films. Taking home the U.S. Dramatic Audience Award went to Lee Daniels’ Push: Based on a novel by Sapphire, a courageous story about a young impoverished woman trapped in a world of ignorance and depression. In a surprising turn, the film also won this year’s Dramatic Grand Jury Prize. This one has been receiving crazy buzz all festival long — personally I’m excited to see it tomorrow during the awards screenings. Lone Scherfig’s An Education won the World Cinema Audience Award. While my own review is still in the works, I will give you a quick preview: it is more than deserving of its award.

Also among the big winners was Louie Psihoyos’ dolphin documentary The Cove, which took home the U.S. Documentary Audience Award, as well as Ondi Timoner’s We Live in Public, which took home the Documentary Grand Jury Prize by telling the story of internet pioneer Josh Harris. I’ve been told that it is a must see for anyone who spends time on the web.

The complete list of winners:

Grand Jury Prize, Dramatic:
“Push: Based on a novel by Sapphire,” Lee Daniels.

Grand Jury Prize, Documentary:
“We Live In Public,” directed by Ondi Timoner

World Cinema Jury Prize, Dramatic:
“The Maid,” directed by Sebastian Silva

World Cinema Jury Prize, Documentary:
“Rough Aunties,” directed by Kim Longinotto

Audience Award, Dramatic:
“Push: Based on the novel by Sapphire,” directed by Lee Daniels.

Audience Award, Documentary:
“The Cove,” directed by Louise Psihoyos

World Cinema Audience Award, Dramatic:
“An Education,” directed by Lone Scherfig-

World Cinema Audience Award, Documentary:
“Afghan Star,” directed by Havana Marking

U.S. Special Jury Prize, Dramatic:
Mo’Nique, for acting in “Push: Based in a novel by Sapphire”

U.S. Special Jury Prize, Dramatic:
“Humpday,” directed by Lynn Shelton, “for its independent spirit.”

U.S. Documentary Special Jury Prize, Documentary:
“Good Hair,” directed by Jeff Stilson

World Cinema Special Jury Prize, Dramatic:
Catalina Saavedra for her performance in “The Maid”

World Cinema Special Jury Prize, Dramatic:
“Louise-Michel,” directed by Benoit Delepine and Gustave de Kervern, for its “originality”

World Cinema Special Jury Prize, Documentary:
“Tibet in Song,” directed by Ngawang Choephel

Excellence in Directing, U.S. Dramatic:
Cary Joji Fukunaga, “Sin Nombre”

Excellence in Directing, U.S. Documentary:
-Natalia Almada, “El General”

Excellence in Directing, World Dramatic:
Oliver Hirschbiegel, “Five Minutes of Heaven”

Excellence in Directing, World Documentary:
Havana Marking, “Afghan Star”

Excellence in Cinematography, U.S. Dramatic:
Adriano Goldman, “Sin Nombre”

Excellence in Cinematography, U.S. Documentary:
Bob Richman, “The September Issue”

Excellence in Cinematography, World Dramatic:
John De Borman, “An Education”

Excellence in Cinematography, World Documentary:
John Maringouin, “Big River Man”

Excellence in Editing, U.S. Documentary:
-Karen Schmeer, “Sergio”

Excellence in Editing, World Documentary:
Janus Billeskov, “Big River Man”

Waldo Salt Screenwriting Award:
Nicholas Jasenovec and Charlyne Yi for “Paper Heart”

World Cinema Screenwriting Award:
Guy Hibbert, “Five Minutes of Heaven”

The Alfred P. Sloan Prize For a Feature Film:
“Adam,” directed by Max Mayer.

Sundance/NHK International Filmmakers Awards
Diego Lerman, “Ciencias Morales” (Moral Sciences)
David Riker, “The Girl”
Qurata Kenji, “Speed Girl”
Lucile Hadzihalilovic, “Evolution”

Jury Prize in International Short Filmmaking:
“Lies,” directed by Jonas Odell.

Jury Prize in Short Filmmaking:
“Short Term 12,” directed by Destin Daniel Cretton.