Philadelphia Film Festival

Week Two Reviews

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Published: Apr 11, 2007

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Following are reviews of movies premiering in the second week of the Philadelphia Film Festival, April 12-19. Up to the day of the show, tickets may be purchased in person at TLA Video locations (11 a.m.-10 p.m.), by phone at 267-765-9700, ext. 701 (10 a.m.-9 p.m.), and online at www.phillyfests.org (up to 24 hours in advance). Same-day tickets are available only at the screening venue. Single ticket prices are $9-$10, $7-$8 for matinees until 4 p.m., and $7 for children 12 and under. Service fees may apply.

Denotes a movie recommended by City Paper critics.
Denotes a highly recommended movie.

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Director Chris Bowman's debut feature has a lot in common with the 2004 surprise hit Napoleon Dynamite: a loser hero, a host of quirky small-town characters and one seriously dysfunctional family. It's not surprising that both films also share a producer. But what made Napoleon Dynamite a cult classic was its heart, and that's something that seems to be lacking in Fork. Despite noteworthy performances from obese protagonist Tracy Orbison (Hubbel Palmer, who is also the film's writer), his domineering mother (Kathleen Quinlan) and his sleazy acting coach (William Baldwin), the film fails to win any empathy. —Termeh Mazhari (Sat., April 14, 12:15 p.m., The Bridge: Cinema DeLuxe, 4012 Walnut St.; Sun., April 15, 7:15 p.m., Ritz East, 125 S. Second St.; Wed., April 18, 8:30 p.m., County Theater, 20 E. State St., Doylestown)

The dying patriarch rips up his son's inheritance, and off we go, into the highly traveled land of family feuds and vengeance. Luckily, the rest of Blood Ties isn't as overheated as that first scene, but it does have a tendency to get a little out of control as prodigal Giovanni (Giovanni Capalbo), fresh out of prison, tries to get his share of the money that will help him escape this miserable mountain town. Finally, the scattered scenes of fights and old flames found again and a very strange friendship with a priest arrive at the predictably tragic denouement; however, Giovanni's tender relationship with his brother Andrea (Andrea Dugoni), who has Down syndrome, is the only part that's actually affecting. —Rachel Frankford (Fri., April 13, 7:45 p.m., Ritz East, 125 S. Second St.; Wed., April 18, 8:30 p.m., HJ)

At 82 years old, stop-motion animator and puppet-maker Kihachiro Kawamoto has long combined Noh, Kabuki and Bunraku doll theater traditions in his films. This one follows young noblewoman Iratsume (voiced by Rie Miyazawa), devoted to her education (and so, challenging convention) and visited by a ghost resembling Buddha. In fact, he is the executed Prince Otsu, restless and ooky like so many ghosts. Equal parts lovely and sinister, this 70-minute film depicts a battle of undead appetites versus life forces, with puppets dissolving on screen, evocative painted backdrops and a haunting soundtrack. —Cindy Fuchs (Sat., April 14, 9:30 p.m., International House, 3701 Chestnut St.; Wed., April 18, 8:30 p.m., Ambler Theater, 108 E. Butler Ave.)

Parker Posey goes man-hunting in Zoë Cassavetes' bipolar rom-com. On the one hand, it's standard-issue Sex and the City stuff, with Posey as a Soho Grand guest-services manager flipping out about being single and late-30-ish. But as the comic sheen wears off Posey's anxiety, the movie takes a darker turn, suggesting the point at which farce turns to tragedy. (Quoth she: "Even I can't stand the scent of my own desperation.") The movie's second half, featuring Melvil Poupaud (Time to Leave) as Posey's Gallic intended, is positively maudlin, not a tone Cassavetes knows how to swing despite the depth of Posey's performance. Justin Theroux all but walks off with the film in a brief scene as a self-loving L.A. actor. —Sam Adams (Sat., April 14, 9:30 p.m., Ritz Five, 214 Walnut St.; Sun., April 15, 12:15 p.m., Ritz East, 125 S. Second St.)

Sex on a cliff over the beach, an emotionally damaging accident, jealousy, rape, an animal imitation contest — what isn't crammed into this whacked-out melodrama? To say that Olivier Masset-Depasse's Cages is a clichéd romantic drama wouldn't be accurate. Eve (Anne Coesens) is a paramedic who is psychologically crippled after an ambulance accident. Her boyfriend Damien (Sagamore Stévenin) is frustrated with her inability to speak in complete sentences, saying she's changed too much. Eve doesn't deal well with Damien's admission to cheating and, out of desperation, ties him to a bed. Their love scenes are uncomfortable and disturbing, despite the film's predictable dime-store novella ending. Eve's ultimate transformation suggests that she has broken out of the titular cage — too bad no one is cheering for her escape. —Erin Brodbeck (Fri., April 13, 2:45 p.m., Ritz East, 125 S. Second St.; Sun., April 15, 5 p.m., Ritz East, 125 S. Second St.; Mon. April 16, 2:30 p.m., Ritz East, 125 S. Second St.)

Whether Knut Pedersen (Kristoffer Joner) was a true revolutionary or a lovestruck fool is never resolved by the end of Comrade Pedersen. But it's funny, awkward and sometimes moving to watch him sort it out. Why people join a movement forms the central question in Comrade, a politically charged drama looking at 1960s social movements through a (failed) Norwegian chapter of the Marxist party. Pedersen, who's married to a librarian and holds a cushy teaching job, gets mixed up in the revolution at the urging of a star student and the sexual urging of fellow rebel Nina (Ane Dahl Torp). The film's serious undertones (like the "let's all quit our good jobs to work in factories" scene) move at a fast pace, and the director often steps back to let the more absurdly funny moments get their due (like the 60-person march, with nearly two dozen baby carriages). The only drawback, at 123 minutes, is that the film drags on, and the clichéd and unfitting ending isn't much reward for sticking it out. —Tom Namako (Mon., April 16, 9:15 p.m., Ritz Five, 214 Walnut St.)

A young man flees a dysfunctional relationship only to return to his dysfunctional family in this psychologically compelling but ultimately dissatisfying drama. When Paul (Romain Duris) and his girlfriend, Anna (Joana Preiss), split, Paul moves in with his kooky father, Mirko (Guy Marchand), and brother Jonathan (Louis Garrel). Jonathan and Mirko go on a well-meaning but inept suicide watch as Paul sinks deeper into a silent depression. Director Christophe Honoré (Ma Mere) adds some whimsy in the form of Jonathan's chipper "omniscient" narration and nonlinear edits, but even a Godard-style musical number does little to break up the monolith of gloom. —Elisa Ludwig (Cancelled)

In Sean Meredith's adaptation of Inferno, hell looks like a 21st-century wasteland populated by contemporary sinners (think Roy Cohn, Franco, Dick Cheney, etc.), as well as Dante's original rogue's gallery. Created with paper cutouts and hand-painted backdrops, the film is visually inspired and sometimes stunning, especially a sequence that recasts the story of Ulysses as the history of U.S. imperialism in the Middle East. Alas, it is only fitfully amusing. The unshaven, not-very-bright Dante's commentary gets old fast, and for the most part the movie sticks to dirty jokes and schtick, leaving the scenario's rich satiric possibilities unexplored. —Rachel Frankford (Sat., April 14, 7 p.m., Prince Music Theater, 1412 Chestnut St.; Sun., April 15, noon, National Constitution Center, Kirby Auditorium, Sixth and Arch Sts.)

This Russian horror hit is already slated for a U.S. remake, but don't get too self-righteous; this is one case where the original's gimmick is better than its execution, so inserting Sarah Michelle Gellar can't detract too much. Combining the countdown-to-death game from The Ring and the gritty nocturnal facade of native blockbuster Night Watch, Daughters follows a group of spooked young professionals trying to "be good" for three days or get offed by a ghostly trio of judgmental little girls. Which could make for a neat satire, but mostly this is an overlong, aimless ramble shot by a handheld camera apparently manned by an epileptic in midseizure. —Shaun Brady (Fri., April 13, noon, The Bridge: Cinema DeLuxe, 4012 Walnut St.; Sat., April 14, 9:45 p.m., Ritz East, 125 S. Second St.; Mon., April 16, 9:30 p.m., Ritz East, 125 S. Second St.)

"Power is a gun in Haiti," Winson "2Pac" Jean states coldly in Asger Leth's doc centered on the chimeres, the heavily armed slum gangs that former president Jean-Bertrand Aristide allegedly hired to bully the Haitian people into supporting the government. Though it unfolds as a newswire-augmented timeline following the bloody coup that leads to Aristide's U.S.-sponsored escape in 2004, Ghosts is more passion than policy. Chimeres chief and aspiring rapper 2Pac makes for a compelling subject. Leth's steady hand captures the young man in moments both incendiary and tender: wrestling a rifle from the clutches of an unstable foot soldier; resting his head beside Lele Senlis, his white French relief worker girlfriend, etc. The sheer scope of Leth's access is astounding, but he resists tipping his hand by insisting the climate of unrest speak for itself. —Drew Lazor (Mon., April 16, 2:30 p.m., The Bridge: Cinema DeLuxe, 4012 Walnut St.; Thu., April 19, 8:30 p.m., HJ)

Admirably nuts if ultimately unsuccessful, the directorial debut from pro skateboarder Stephen Berra stars festival honoree Mark Webber as a lonely small-town misfit who falls in with a former child star (Zooey Deschanel). Dark-toned and serious to a fault, the movie's portrait of down-and-outers in a crumbling town (Lincoln, Neb.) was ostensibly inspired by a dearth of attention to the lives of working-class Americans, and Berra shows a genuine feel for Midwestern solitude. But the movie works only when nothing happens; once plot intrudes, the downward spiral is fast and furious, lumping predictability on top of contrivance. —Sam Adams (Sun., April 15, 2:45 p.m., International House, 3701 Chestnut St.; Tue., April 17, 7:15 p.m., Ritz East, 125 S. Second St.)

A rare family comedy dealing with death that wholly avoids sentiment, Grave Decisions became a surprise hit in its native Germany. The story of a young boy determined to atone for his mother's death during childbirth, the rural Bavarian setting provides plenty of opportunities to gently skewer the confusing pronouncements of Catholicism, not to mention the bizarre life lessons that only small-town life can impart. —Shaun Brady (Thu., April 12, 2:30 p.m., Ritz East, 125 S. Second St.; Fri., April 13, noon, Ritz East, 125 S. Second St.; Sun., April 15, 4:45 p.m., Ritz East, 125 S. Second St.)

Jose Wilker carves out an imposing presence as a brusque astrophysicist dying of a brain tumor in the opening minutes of veteran Brazilian director Carlos Diegues' overwrought drama. But as soon as his adoptive father points him to the Rio slum where he was born, the course is set for one of those redemption-by-association-with-poverty lessons taught only by those who don't have to live it. Wilker finally learns to put aside all that cynical science for the wisdom of an aged fortune teller, a cute streetwise kid and some sudden redemptive sex with a young beauty. Only when you really give yourself up to the world can you realize that it actually does revolve around you. —Shaun Brady (Fri., April 13, 7:15 p.m., Ritz East, 125 S. Second St.; Sun., April 15, 2:45 p.m., Ritz East, 125 S. Second St.)

Only a dozen men have ever set foot on the surface of the moon. This documentary gives viewers the unique opportunity to hear first-hand accounts of the experience from the only people who can describe it. Buzz Aldrin, Mike Collins and others provide engaging commentary about what they were thinking before, during and after their respective trips. There are interviews with crewmembers from various NASA missions, but the focus is primarily on that of the Apollo 11, July 20, 1969. In the Shadow isn't the type of doc snoozefest your 10th-grade astronomy teacher would show on a Friday afternoon; it appeals to anyone who's ever looked up at the night sky and wondered what if. —Erin Brodbeck (Sun., April 15, 7:15 p.m., Prince Music Theater, 1412 Chestnut St.; Mon., April 16, 5 p.m., Prince Music Theater, 1412 Chestnut St.)

Meet the late Judy Toll, a little-known '90s comedienne who dreamt of becoming the next Julia Sweeney. When it came to gross physical humor or inappropriately personal revelations, Toll didn't lack for charisma, talent or pluck. So why haven't we ever heard of her? Director Gary Toll (Judy's younger brother) offers little by way of explanation. In this collage of family videos and teary testimonials, the audience meets someone well-loved by family and friends, but never the funniest woman they were promised. Perhaps the film would be more aptly titled: Judy Toll: A Loving Tribute from a Younger Brother. —Mickey Jou (Fri., April 13, 7 p.m., International House, 3701 Chestnut St.; Sun., April 15, 2:15 p.m. National Constitution Center, Kirby Auditorium, Sixth and Arch Sts.)

If the government forcibly removed you from your yurt and slaughtered all of your animals, you might also abandon your body while having seizures and retreat into the spirit world in an attempt to hone your skills as a shaman and fight to preserve your way of life. Composed of stunning pastoral shots of Mongolian plains and mining towns, Peter Brosens' and Jessica Hope Woodworth's Khadak is a magical montage of aesthetic bliss, even if its content is brutal enough to make the similar plight of the Okies fleeing the dust bowl as peachy-keen as a bowl of cherries. —Sam Tremble (Sat., April 14, 7:30 p.m. Ritz Five, 214 Walnut St.; Sun., April 15, 2:30 p.m., Ritz Five, 214 Walnut St.)

In 1955, Swarthmore student Bob Bechtel shot and killed fellow student Holmes Strozier; less than five years later, he was a free man. Macky Alston's troubling and occasionally troubled documentary uses Bechtel's life story to wrestle with ideas of repentance and redemption, in both societal and spiritual terms. Now a respected college professor and father of two, Bechtel hardly seems like a danger to society, but there's an unnerving flatness to his personality, even when he's revisiting his crime, brought on, he says, by years of constant bullying. (After five years in a mental institution, he was ruled not guilty by reason of insanity.) Alston focuses particularly on Bechtel's daughter, Carrah, whose love and respect for her father conflicts with her sense that he has never quite come to terms with his crime (re-created here in tabloid-esque black and white). Visiting those who knew Bechtel's victim, Carrah tries to make the amends her father won't or can't, embodying the idea that good can follow evil, even if it takes a generation to do so. —Sam Adams (Sat., April 14, 7:15 p.m., National Constitution Center, Kirby Auditorium, Sixth and Arch Sts.; Sun., April 15, 4:30 p.m., National Constitution Center, Kirby Auditorium, Sixth and Arch Sts.)

Olivier Dahan's très sérieux Edith Piaf biopic casts the street-seasoned chanteuse as a Gallic Judy Garland, a doomed soul spiraling ever downward who happened to record some great songs on the way. An uglied-up Marion Cotillard invests the role of "la môme" (the kid) with dazzling energy, but the movie's conception of Piaf rarely credits the strength that mixes so thrillingly with vulnerability in her songs. Here, "Je ne regrette rien" plays like a sick joke, intercut with her death from cancer at age 47. Despite a flushed encounter with Marlene Dietrich and a fleeting romance with boxer Marcel Cerdan (Jean-Pierre Martins), Piaf's life is presented as an unending string of miseries. The message seems to be: You may think you have it bad, but at least you're not Edith Piaf. —Sam Adams (Thu., April 12, 7 p.m., Prince Music Theater, 1412 Chestnut St.; Fri., April 13, 2:15 p.m., Ritz East, 125 S. Second St.)

A stunning labor of obsession (if not quite love), Tony Kaye's documentary spans two decades in the American debate on abortion. Kaye (American History X) spent years making the film on his own dime, and while it makes no attempt to be comprehensive, the movie's nonpartisan fascination takes in a surprising variety of views. Kaye finds unpleasantness on both sides, from graphic footage of a late-term abortion to a segment devoted to Paul Hill, the anti-abortion zealot who murdered a doctor and his escort outside a Florida abortion clinic, and was himself sentenced to death. Shot in stark black and white on a variety of formats, Lake of Fire is patchy but unfailingly intense, devoting itself to the tangible effects of an issue that is, as Alan Dershowitz says, impossible of solution in the abstract. —Sam Adams (Sat., April 14, 4:15 p.m., National Constitution Center, Kirby Auditorium, Sixth and Arch Sts.; Sun., April 15, 6:30 p.m., National Constitution Center, Kirby Auditorium, Sixth and Arch Sts.)

Fresh off a remarkable performance in Bullet Boy, Ashley Walters makes Danny, a South London DJ, more compelling than his regular story line warrants. Working by day in a record store (a business on its way out, warns his employer), he and his Motion Crew prepare to compete in the Mic Masters contest, when Danny meets the beautiful and decidedly middle-class Carmen, a vocalist with the rival North London crew who may or may not be trustworthy. Screenwriter Ken Williams' retread plot includes a combative best friend, brutal villain and climactic rhymes battle scene. No surprises. —Cindy Fuchs (Fri., April 13, 5 p.m., Ritz East, 125 S. Second St.; Sun., April 15, 2:45 p.m., The Bridge: Cinema DeLuxe, 4012 Walnut St.; Mon., April 16, 9:30 p.m., Ritz East, 125 S. Second St.)

Simon Rumley's saga of a rich twit going-and-gone mad is hardly new, especially as it rummages in mother-son baggage. Still, the psychic deterioration of James Brocklebank (Leo Bill) is rendered in particularly visceral ways. When his father (Roger Lloyd-Pack) determines he must leave the family estate for London, to seek financing for Mrs. Brocklebank's (Kate Fahy) medical treatments, the obviously troubled son-and-heir must look after her. After locking himself and mummy inside the house, James' internal state becomes the film, with horrors ranging from bloody wounds and yucky vomiting to soundtrack feedback, creepy conversations between James and an alternative self ("I'm scarred by my mother dying. That's why I'm scarred, it's scarry"), and finally, some predictable violence. The distressing presentation doesn't quite overcome the familiar thematics. —Cindy Fuchs (Thu., April 12, 9:45 p.m., Ritz East, 125 S. Second St.; Sun., April 15, 5 p.m., The Bridge: Cinema DeLuxe, 4012 Walnut St.)

Fest honoree Mark Webber plays Lukas, a toll-booth operator without a past who latches onto the recollections of Holocaust survivors after a few drive-by chance encounters. Gil Kofman's debut is one of those tales of good intentions gone bad in the hands of deluded loners that owes its existence to Taxi Driver, though Webber exudes a confused-little-boy charm that makes much of the little he's offered. Lukas' ambiguous backstory leaves the character adrift, though also avoids Psych 101 rationales. Ultimately, Thief opens a debate on the morality of asking survivors to continually relive their horror. Those who forget the past may be doomed to repeat it, but those who remember are required to recall it ad nauseam. —Shaun Brady (Sat., April 14, 9:30 p.m., Prince Music Theater, 1412 Chestnut St.; Sun., April 15, 12:15 p.m., Prince Music Theater, 1412 Chestnut St.)

The story of Orange Thief's production is almost more interesting than the movie itself: A bunch of Philly filmmakers head off to Italy without a script, actors, etc., intent on making the film by committee. The result is more coherent than its exquisite corpse origins may suggest. Slight but charming, the rambling narrative takes a loving stroll through the Italian countryside — or at least a romantic conception of it born of tourist zeal fueled by immersions in neo- and magic realism. —Shaun Brady (Sun., April 15, 7:15 p.m., International House, 3701 Chestnut St.; Wed., April 18, 6:15 p.m., Ambler Theater, 108 E. Butler Ave.)

Melanie Prouvost is a gifted young pianist who dreams of entering the prestigious Conservatoire de Paris. As she takes her entrance exam, however, her dream is crushed by the president of the jury (the superb Catherine Frot), whose rude disruption causes Melanie to fail. A decade later, Melanie (played with robotic precision by newcomer Deborah Francois) plots her cold revenge. French director Denis Dercourt's The Page Turner is a taut psychological drama in the tradition of Hitchcock, keeping you on the edge of your seat from start to finish. —Termeh Mazhari (Sat., April 14, 9:30 p.m., Ritz East, 125 S. Second St.; Thu., April 19, 6:15 p.m., HJ)

Canoes built out of bark! Witch doctors! The Death Dance! Ten Canoes is divided between documenting the practices of an indigenous people and telling the life story of Ridjimiraril (Crusoe Kurddal), an Aboriginal warrior whose second wife has gone missing. Director Rolf de Heer successfully balances toilet humor and spear-throwing action with darker subjects like murder and justice. Cheeky storyteller David Gulpilil gives the film its unified vision and affable personality. —Mickey Jou (Sat., April 14, 7:30 p.m., Ritz East, 125 S. Second St.; Sun., April 15, 12:30 p.m., Ritz East, 125 S. Second St.)

David Moreau and Xavier Palud's Them breathlessly squeezes blood from a My First Premise stone. Clementine (Olivia Bonamy) and Lucas (Michael Cohen) are bedded down in their idyllic Romanian farmhouse when they hear something — them! — breaking in. The couple split as clever pacing hardlines life into storyboard-caliber images: amorphous silhouettes on a plastic dropsheet, a bobbing flashlight slicing through the fog, etc. The film's sharp shadows and muddled palette owe something to Alexandre Aja's 2003 entrails-fest Haute Tension, but the comparisons end there, as the pair sidestep gory splatter for the patter of mostly unseen feet. A fresh play on the hacked-to-bits "less is more" horror aesthetic, Them drums up chest-tightening anxiety without revealing the perpetrators until the skin-crawling denouement. —Drew Lazor (Sat., April 14, 10 p.m., The Bridge: Cinema DeLuxe, 4012 Walnut St.; Sun., April 15, 9:30 p.m., Ritz Five, 214 Walnut St.; Thu., April 19, 8:30 p.m., County Theater, 20 E. State St., Doylestown)

Curtis Pollock's debut feels a bit like watching interminable home movies of someone else's road trip — and that's basically what it is. A would-be writer turned bartender undergoes an early-midlife crisis after his girlfriend leaves him on his 30th birthday. He follows Route 30 West with his A.C. winnings, spouting local references and meeting all manner of whimsical eccentrics along the way (including Annie herself, Yardley's Aileen Quinn). But they all speak in the same mannered voice, almost pronouncing the rewrites of every monologue. Pollock's didactic ramble is as aimless as his protagonist's journey, and feels as unplanned; next time he hits the road, it might be best to find his camera's white balance first. —Shaun Brady (Fri., April 13, 9:30 p.m., National Constitution Center, Kirby Auditorium, Sixth and Arch Sts.)

Korean shape-shifter Ki-duk Kim chimes in with a domestic horror story about an insecure woman (Ji-yeon Park) who responds to her boyfriend's waning interest by making the ultimate change: her face. Entering a plastic surgery clinic, Seh-hee I emerges as See-hee II (played by Hyeon-a Seong), a passionate, jealous lover who whets the boyfriend's appetite but also raises his suspicions. Kim's tale is thin stuff, an existential creeper whose scares sometimes backfire, but its sharp edges get into your skin. —Sam Adams (Fri., April 13, 7:30, The Bridge: Cinema DeLuxe, 4012 Walnut St.; Sat., April 14, 7:15 p.m., Ritz East, 125 S. Second St.)

Centralia, Pa., once a booming mining town, has dwindled from thousands of residents to merely a dozen, and with good reason: It's located on top of a coal fire that has been burning continuously underground for the last 45 years. Today, Centralia's not even a ghost town; as people moved away, the buildings were razed to keep them from igniting, leaving only smoking emptiness in their wake. Chris Perkel and Georgie Roland's documentary focuses on the town's de facto mayor and caretaker, Jon Lokitis, one of a handful who has steadfastly (or stubbornly) stayed behind when everyone else moved on. Both Lokitis and Centralia are fascinating curiosities, but there's not enough of interest to fill a 70-minute run time. The town's problem is not the documentary's, which generates heat and then quickly loses steam. —Ryan Godfrey (Sat., April 14, 4:45 p.m., Prince Music Theater, 1412 Chestnut St.; Mon., April 16, 7 p.m., International House, 3701 Chestnut St.)

As he did in last year's Open Cam, Robert Gaston constructs a flimsy thriller framework just sturdy enough to support the weight of the sex scenes he hangs all over it. The lensed-in-Philly whydunit (the killer's face is revealed at the outset, and his motives hinted at) involves a lesbian P.I. teaming up with a gay insurance investigator to locate the latter's Mapplethorpe-lite twin brother. Nobody in the film ever looks as convincing wielding a gun as taking their pants off, which I guess still qualifies it as an "action" flick. —Shaun Brady (Fri., April 13, 7:15 p.m., Prince Music Theater, 1412 Chestnut St.; Sun., April 15, 2:30 p.m., Prince Music Theater, 1412 Chestnut St.)

You think you know your J-horror: crookedy, long-haired ghosts versus hapless humans in cramped spaces. But this trio of half-hour films is creepy and then some. Each recombines the usual miserable victimized girls with eerie vengeance plots and gender politics: A mourning mother assaults an emblem of the society oblivious to her pain; a dead mom displaces her abuse onto her child; and in Takuji Suzuki's extraordinary "Steel" ("Hagane," whose look recalls Tetsuo), a seemingly shy sister — her entire upper body is covered in a burlap sack — becomes the alarming embodiment of what men think they want: the voracious vagina. Infused with sharp humor and uncanny imagery, each piece finds its own way to challenge conventions. —Cindy Fuchs (Fri., April 13, 9:45 p.m., The Bridge: Cinema DeLuxe, 4012 Walnut St.; Sun., April 15, 9:30 p.m., Ritz East, 125 S. Second St.)

Everything in excess is Anna Biller's MO. Written, directed and starring the L.A. filmmaker, Viva is a painstakingly accurate depiction of late '60s/early '70s exploitation cinema. (Think Russ, Radley, Doris, Herschell, etc.) Biller plays Barbi, a doll-like, dejected housewife whose inattentive hubby drives her to seek affection elsewhere: at the neighbors' house, in a brothel, at the hairdresser's, in a nudist colony, at an orgy, and any other place that obliges pretty, naked ladies. Viva has all the trappings of a cult classic — plasticine acting, absurd dialogue, fabulous costumes — which is good news for midnight moviegoers. Everything in excess, indeed. —Ashlea Halpern (Sat., April 14, 5 p.m., Ritz East, 125 S. Second St.; Sun., April 15, 9:15 p.m., Ritz East, 125 S. Second St.)

A sunny comedy with a tragic backstory, Adrienne Shelly's final film is an untrammeled delight, with sunny good humor and perfectly pitched performances. Positing an adulterous romance between Keri Russell's glum-pie waitress and Nathan Fillion's tongue-tied obstetrician, the brightly colored lark is a stylized delight, acted at perfect pitch by a comic ensemble that includes Cheryl Hines, Andy Griffith and Shelly herself. Those with a low tolerance for winsomeness might do well to steer clear, but only a diehard sourpuss could be impervious to the movie's substantial charms. —Sam Adams (Wed., April 18, 7:30 p.m., Prince Music Theater, 1412 Chestnut St.)

Korea's Sang-soo Hong has never been one to sear the eyeballs, but Woman on the Beach continues his unsettling exploration of painful relationships and repeat offenders. Discarding the engaging structuralist gimmicks of previous films, Woman on the Beach more subtly encodes the notion of recurrence through the story of a self-important film director who becomes involved with two similar women. The understated style that has kept Hong out of American theaters can be illustrated by the fact that the movie's highlight is a scene in which the director uses scribbled drawings on a hotel pad to illustrate the nature of obsession. But if it doesn't cater to narrow notions of what's "cinematic," the scene is still a career highlight, a dry gut-buster that apparently mocks the director's own methods as well as the character's inherent self-delusion. —Sam Adams (Sat., April 14, noon, Prince Music Theater, 1412 Chestnut St.; Mon., April 16, 5 p.m., The Bridge: Cinema DeLuxe, 4012 Walnut St.)

Animal-masked tormentors? Check. Creepy twin girls? Check. Freaky mechanical doll, elliptical riddles, dwarf? Check, check and check. All the elements for a self-consciously "weird" cult flick are here, so why does Wicked Flowers generate such little unease? Mostly because first-time writer/director Torico (never trust a one-named director, right Tarsem? McG?) includes so little peripheral information before plunging her characters into some sub-Lynchian combination of The Game and Saw that it's always pretty evident what's behind it all. Flowers is like a magic show so full of impressive effects that it forgets to fool its audience. —Shaun Brady (Sat., April 14, 9:45 p.m., National Constitution Center, Kirby Auditorium, Sixth and Arch Sts.; Mon., April 16, 9:15 p.m., International House, 3701 Chestnut St.)

Anyone who's ever woken up next to a complete stranger — or best friend — with a massive hangover will find You Are Here oddly comforting and hilariously familiar. Henry Pincus' film tries to sort out one of those blurry nights from the perspectives of five hipsters tangled in a mess of friendship, sex and drugs. The dialogue is crisp and witty, and is carried along well by flashy editing and camera tricks. What makes it all fit together is a strong cast of characters whose insecurities, exaggerated personalities and secret crushes are laid out, detail by detail, for the viewer. —Tom Namako (Thu., April 12, 7 p.m., The Bridge: Cinema DeLuxe, 4012 Walnut St.; Sat., April 14, 2:30 p.m., Prince Music Theater, 1412 Chestnut St.)

Philadelphia Film Festival: Week One Reviews
Wedding Blues
Repertory Film