“Forget everything you know” and engross yourself in David Spaltro’s newest indie film: Things I Don’t Understand.  In his second feature film release Spaltro explores the world of a withdrawn prodigy, Violet Kubelick, played brilliantly by up and comer Molly Ryman who perfectly leads the cast. Fascinated by death and “the meaning to it [life] all, ” Violet begins writing a thesis, becoming mostly obsessed with interviewing those who have come close to it. The film opens with the aftermath of her most radical experiment – a failed suicide attempt.

As she reluctantly begins the healing process, Violet ends up visiting a hospital in hopes of continuing her assignment. She approaches the familiar setting with caution, but ultimately becomes captivated with a young, terminally ill patient Sara. A role in which young actress, Grace Folsom nails the part as a loveable, sharp-witted girl who has surprisingly honest notions about herself and everyone else…

 The genuine friendship and spot-on perceptions enable Violet to face her dysfunctional virtues, and seemingly by default encourages those around her to do the same.

Supported by a combination of intriguing characters: a druggie/musician best friend, Remy (Hugo Dillon), failed activist roommate, Gabby (Meissa Hampton), an angel-like therapist, Dr. Blankenship (Veteran actress, Lisa Eichhorn) and, of course, a challenging love interest Parker McNeil (TV actor, Aaron Mathias).

Spaltro’s writing displays a soothing essence formulated by a realistic story of how some people (in this case), Violet and her friends/roommates choose to live daunted by the simple things they need most. A journey that once embraced propels them into the vivid and rewarding direction they were meant to experience.

Spaltro notes, “The project was always about the idea of faith and it’s individual meaning to every person.”  The story is indeed solid— the directing and cinematography, however, remain somewhat in a safety zone.

Meissa Hampton portrays "Gabby"

As the film went on, so did the amount of basic camera angles, and simplistic visual set-ups, perhaps because the commendable acting and insightful writing were strong enough to capture the audience on their own merit. At times, the lighting also lacked a bit of contrast. And while Spaltro admits, “This project tested my own abilities and voice as a filmmaker.” It would have been nice to have seen him take more risks behind the lens, in terms of the technical aspects, and the shooting style of the film.

Overall, Things I don’t Understand takes an enlightening look at life and captures a straight forward tale of how inherent dysfunction can drive the way we live. In the end: showcasing how relationships with others are able to conquer it.

Just one of the reasons why we dig indie films.

For more information on the film: http://www.tidu-film.com/

Getting caught between the past and the present is easy to do, especially when your past is as deeply fucked up as Martha’s (Elizabeth Olsen). With a childhood spent in a presumable void (Martha’s parents either died or abandoned her and her sister—the details are kind of vague), Martha became an ideal candidate for being allured by a cult masquerading as a “community” and a “family.”

Looking every bit like a member of the Olsen family

She is introduced to the farm, located in the sequestered Catskill Mountains, by her friend, Zoe (Louisa Krause). In typical form, the commune is run by a Charles Manson-esque leader named Patrick (John Hawkes). The day he meets Martha, he dubs her “Marcy May.” As we later learn, he changes most of the names of the people who come to stay there. It is, after all, an excellent tactic to use when you want to make someone disassociate from the person he or she was.

Important things to learn

As Martha grows increasingly enamored of Patrick, she is more prone to swallowing any line of bull shit he doles out. But, at the end of two years, Martha has seen and experienced enough trauma to warrant a knee-jerk escape back into civilization. When Watts (Brady Corbet), one of Patrick’s primary minions, tries to get her to come back, she refuses to leave the restaurant she is in.

Sarah Paulson and Elizabeth Olsen with writer/director Sean Durkin at Sundance

Reflexively, she calls her only living relative and sister, Lucy (Sarah Paulson, who I haven’t seen in anything since the long ago forgotten WB show Jack and Jill). Not having heard from Martha in two years, Lucy is extremely eager to take her in. And so, Lucy drives Martha to her house in Connecticut, where she lives with her British architect husband, Ted (Hgh Dancy). Almost instantly, Martha clashes with both of them, wasting no time in revealing her distinct lack of social grace (e.g. skinny dipping, sitting on countertops, lying next to Ted and Lucy while they have sex, et cetera).

Promotional poster for Martha Marcy May Marlene

It becomes clear that Martha is harboring some residual demons, blurring the line between remembrances and real time—and soon, fantasy and reality. Directed and written by the annoyingly young Sean Durkin (age 29, a zygote in movie years when you’re a male writer/director), Martha Marcy May Marlene garnered attention at Sundance and Cannes earlier this year. No stranger to the festival circuit, Durkin formed Borderline Films in 2005 and released the first feature, Afterschool, under the company moniker in 2008 to favorable critical reception at the Cannes Film Festival.

Lucy prepares her sister for interaction with non-cultish humans

Slowly building up to his immense talent for storytelling with several short films prior to this, Martha Marcy May Marlene is certain to be just one of many great things we see from Durkin. P.S. If you’re wondering where the name “Marlene” factors into the title, it’s because whenever any of the girls in Patrick’s cult answers the house phone, they have to tell the caller that their name is Marlene Lewis. Fucked up, right?

The thing about Evan Glodell’s Bellflower is, it is the first movie of this century to truly reflect how fucking lost, stuck, and stagnant people in their twenties are. The film is centered around two friends, Woodrow (Glodell) and Aiden (Tyler Dawson, who kind of looks like Matthew Goode), obsessed with creating the ultimate flame-throwing car in preparation for the apocalypse so they can rule over the ruins based on how cool and intimidating they look. And yes, it is Mad Max inspired.

The Medusa is the ultimate apocalyptic driving machine.

Their plans for finishing their creation are somewhat derailed when Woodrow meets Milly (Jessie Wiseman) at a bar and challenges her in a cricket eating contest (I know, gross). At first, he is painfully shy, but Milly soon brings out his ribald and ruffian side. Her impetuosity is evident on their first date, when she insists that Woodrow takes her to the most disgusting restaurant he can think of, which is in Texas. Even though they’re in Los Angeles (a fact that is never actually stated, maybe because it’s obvious from the look and name of the movie), Milly is unfazed by the distance required to get to this “restaurant,” a place that is actually more of a stand that serves meat loaf for $1.25.

Promotional poster for Bellflower

The two share an instant connection that is only fortified on the road trip, particularly since Woodrow’s car is capable of dispensing whiskey from the dashboard area of the passenger side. They return after about a week, just in time for the birthday party of Milly’s best friend, Courtney (Rebekah Brandes). It is there that the tension between Milly and her roommate, Mike (Vincent Grashaw), intensifies (Mike has a crush on Milly, who clearly does not reciprocate said crush). The trio of Aiden, Woodrow, and Milly split early from the party, leaving Courtney and Mike bewildered by the relationship that has formed in such a brief amount of time.

Another promotional poster

Perhaps the best and most deliberate choice about Glodell’s debut (and by the way, he trumped the Orson Welles rule of thumb by not only starring, writing, directing, and producing the film, but editing it as well) is that he never addresses the fact that none of the characters in Bellflower seem to have to worry about a job or where they’re going to come up with the money for the various parts of “Medusa.” This is something that seems to reflect the notion that no one of “our generation” has any sort of career type job. An intimation that is basically accurate. Those who are in their early, mid, and late twenties have been dealt a hand that apparently promotes no other option but slackerdom and alcoholism.

Lost.

This little detail aside, there is also the issue of what constitutes a “modern love.” In Bellflower, loyalty and possession are still the chief concepts touted, even if they veer on the chauvinistic side as the movie draws to a close. Milly is, naturally, the one to falter first in terms of maintaining her sense of fidelity. Ironically, she chooses Mike, her undesirable roommate, to cheat on Woodrow with. Thinking Woodrow is going to be off on a Medusa jaunt with Aiden, Milly does not anticipate it when Woodrow bursts in to find them in an extremely compromising position.

Pissed.

The revelation of Milly’s sluttery sends Woodrow into a depressive frenzy that takes the narrative of Bellflower in unexpected directions. In many ways, it starts to remind you of the reckless alacrity of Natural Born Killers. Not every audience member will be amenable to the feckless nature of Bellflower‘s shift in the course of plot. To those audience members I say: Fuck yourself.

Although, to some, this may sound like the title to a classier version of a porno movie, The Myth of the American Sleepover is one of the first classic coming of age stories to hit theaters in quite some time. Detailing the intertwining lives of a group of high school students on the last weekend of the summer, David Robert Mitchell’s debut feature film exposes the vulnerability and confusion of youth.

Promotional poster for The Myth of the American Sleepover

Opening at the mecca of normalcy and Americana–a public pool in suburban Detroit–we are introduced to Maggie (Claire Sloma), a gamine-coiffed, facially pierced rogue who feels like she didn’t sow enough oats over the summer. As she mentions this to her friend, she makes eye contact with the pool boy. We all know where this is going.

Riding bikes to the soundtrack of Beirut's "Elephant Gun"

Our next victim of a boring and sexless summer is Rob (Marlon Morton), a boy who becomes quickly obsessed with a girl he sees shopping in the supermarket. From the moment he sees her leave, his only quest is to find her again. From there, the film transitions to Claudia’s (Amanda Bauer) unfortunate invitation to the sleepover at Janelle Ramsey’s (Shayla Curran) house. New in town and with her boyfriend, Andy (Drew Machak), as her only confidante, Claudia decides it would be a good idea to go.

Heading to Janelle's house.

Our other misguided and floundering protagonist is Scott (Brett Jacobsen), who has returned from college in Chicago–possibly on a permanent basis. When he goes to pick up his sister, Jen (Mary Wardell), from a school activity, he encounters an old picture of him talking to the Abbey twins (Nikita and Jade Ramsey), both of whom were in drama with him. He steals the picture from its display case and suddenly has a consuming desire to find the twins again. When he asks his sister what happened to them, she says they’re at an orientation at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. Pulled by the nostalgia of the photo, he goes to find them.

Rob checks out "Supermarket Girl"

Meanwhile, Maggie and her friend have found mischief of their own to get into on the way to the sleepover at Janelle’s when they stop by a party at an older high school guy’s house. It is there that Maggie sees her pool boy again. Surprisingly, he isn’t an asshole and the two get to talking about the myth surrounding the allure of growing up. Philosophizing about how only when we lose our innocence do we realize how foolish it was to catalyze the process of getting older, he urges Maggie not to rush into anything until she is ready.

Claudia in the aftermath of the sleepover (in case you can't tell, she has a "Hollywoodized" black eye).

The Myth of the American Sleepover is not a climactic movie, because it mirrors the very nature of being in high school: Slow, constantly waiting for something to happen, and always somehow left disappointed. Fundamentally, the pacing and palpable feelings of ennui are what makes Mitchell’s (based on a true) story so real.

Alex Cox is one of the clearest demonstrations of Hollywood acceptance being reserved for fuck-ups and retards. As the director of Repo Man, the consummate 1984 film about the grim and lurid existence of a Los Angeles denizen, Cox quickly established his rebellious and kitsch-heavy style. The film was long due for a sequel, with rumors swirling that David Lynch would be the one to direct it. After much fanfare and anticipation, Repo Chick, written and directed by the same comedic mastermind behind the original, premiered at The Venice Film Festival in 2009. Because Universal Studios owns the rights to the original Repo Man, Cox was given a cease and desist notice in 2008 when they learned of the production. However, since Repo Chick uses none of the characters from the 1984 incarnation of the film, Cox ignored warnings from the studio to terminate production.

Cox's stories seemed to hold little weight with the term "mass appeal."

And rightly so, considering the film’s plot has very little bearing on the original. Pixxi De La Chasse (Jaclyn Joney), the heroine of Cox’s story, is a disinherited heiress who suddenly discovers her latent talent for repossessing everything from cars to shopping mall square footage. As is the norm for Cox, Repo Chick is laden with attacks on the nature of an economic downturn and the implications of those who benefit from it. Far from being anything akin to Repo Man, the film still managed to generate interest from David Lynch’s production company, Industrial Entertainment, for limited distribution, followed by an immediate DVD release. And, while Repo Chick may not have the landmark cultural presence of people like Emilio Estevez or local L.A. bands like the Circle Jerks, and was predominantly filmed in front of a green screen, it has definitely repossessed the fiercely independent spirit that Alex Cox is renowned for.

Promotional poster for Repo Chick

Cox’s career has been one of the most peculiar in terms of being able to share a brief dalliance with studio enthusiasm. After Repo Man, Cox continued his renegade motif with Sid and Nancy in 1986. This film, with Gary Oldman’s acting credentials to buffer its “gritty” (by studio standards) feel, was a sign of Cox’s impending work–and the impending reaction it was to receive.

The lone Liverpudlian.

As is the Coxian norm, the film followed Repo Man‘s suit in featuring a litany of significant musicians, including Nico, Courtney Love (before she was technically a musician), and, once again, the Circle Jerks. Never one to pass up the opportunity of conveying some sort of message, Cox noted that the approach he took to retelling the much speculated about death of Nancy Spungen was intended to demystify the glamour of the duo’s heroin-based love. Cox told the New Musical Express:

“We wanted to make the film not just about Sid Vicious and punk rock, but as an anti-drugs statement, to show the degradation caused to various people is not at all glamorous.”

Still from Sid and Nancy

This would be the last time that Cox could get away with his directorial propensities and still have them be deemed commercially viable by Universal. Following Sid and Nancy was Straight to Hell in 1987, an homage to the spaghetti western genre that Cox had always been so fond of. Featuring Cox favorites Joe Strummer, Courtney Love, Sy Richardson, and Miguel Sandoval, the movie takes place in a Jodorowsky-esque locale (it was filmed in Almeria, Spain) and follows a gang of robbers who hide out there after a heist.

Courtney Love in Straight to Hell

From 1987 on, it seemed that Cox was doomed to go on a downward spiral in his Hollywood ranking. Increasingly, Cox came to viewed as some sort of movie industry miscreant. Films like Walker, El Patrullero, and Death and the Compass unfortunately lost Cox a marketable audience–in spite of the fact that his talent flourished, but was simply misunderstood by those still expecting another version of Repo Man every time his next film would be released.

Alex Cox's style has more and more turned to the "microcinema" genre, with most of Repo Chick being shot against a green screen.

The most recent–and unusual–chapter in Cox’s life has been his recent acceptance of a teaching position at the University of Colorado at Boulder. Most filmmakers cannot sugar coat the notion that once you’ve agreed to teach at a university, it tends to be for dire financial needs as opposed to a strong craving to instruct and mold minds. Especially the grandiose and egotistical minds of film students. Even so, there is some kind of poetry in the idea that Cox will be in Colorado, just on the periphery of California, where all of those golden film dreams are guarded by lesser men.

So few movies detail the (apparently) angst-ridden lives of Welsh youth. Submarine, directed by Richard Ayoade (who you may know better as Maurice on The IT Crowd and as the glorious co-writer of Garth Marenghi and The Mighty Boosh), however, does just that. Taking a helping hand from Joe Dunthorne’s 2008 novel of the same name, this foreign amalgam of Juno, Thumbsucker, and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind focuses on the humdrum existence of Oliver Tate. In Oliver’s mind, he is objectively chic, intelligent, and alluringly aloof. In reality, his classmates think he’s kind of a pretentious tool.

Oliver, exuding the standard emotions of most students trapped in a classroom setting.

To distract himself from the drudgery of Wales, he hones in on a girl named Jordana Bevan (Yasmin Page), who he believes is his equal in terms of social status. Somewhat mean-spirited and not at all the sentimental type, Jordana is at first immune to Oliver’s attempts at reeling her in (chiefly, bullying a fellow classmate named Zoe Preece, played by Lily McCann, who is often tormented based on her weight and her refusal to pass notes in class). But when Jordana stumbles upon Oliver stopping at Zoe’s house to bequeath a handbook on how to evade further torture, she uses the information to blackmail Oliver into kissing her as she takes pictures of them with his Polaroid camera. She then instructs Oliver to put the photos in his journal and leave it at school for someone to find so that her ex-boyfriend (who cheated on her) will find them.

If I was a gambling woman, I would say this lot definitely listens to The Smiths.

Her plan to make the silly berk jealous doesn’t quite work out as she had hoped, and Oliver ends up getting the shit kicked out of him for refusing to call Jordana a slut. This unexpected defense of her honor is what changes Jordana’s mind about Oliver. She kisses him under non-blackmailing circumstances as he walks her home after the fight is over, prompting him to ask immediately, “Does this mean you’re my girlfriend?” She responds, “I’ll think about it.”

That young lost look.

Oliver and Jordana quickly slip into a montage of contentment–literally. Oliver views their initial two weeks together as a Super 8 clip show of good times. It is at this point when Oliver’s school friends (acquaintances really) start to goad him for not having slept with her yet. Jordana, who is no maudlin prude, is receptive to Oliver’s proposition and agrees to go to his house on the night his parents, Jill (Sally Hawkins) and Lloyd (Noah Taylor), go to the cinema. This particular plotline provides an altogether different subset of problems for Oliver as his mother agrees to bring their next door neighbor, Graham (Paddy Considine, whose shiteous mullet makes him almost unrecognizable from the In America days), who also happens to be Jill’s ex-boyfriend and first love. And thus, to quote Bridget Jones, “It is a truth universally acknowledged that when one part of your life starts going okay, another falls spectacularly to pieces.”

Promotional poster for Submarine.

This is why, after having sex with Jordana (the first time awkwardly and the second time successfully), Oliver fears his mother is teetering dangerously close to infidelity. It is also around this time that Jordana, now feeling comfortable enough to express emotion to Oliver, informs him that her mother has a potentially fatal brain tumor. Feeling her issue trumps his, Oliver keeps his own parental conundrum to himself. In taking on the burden of spying religiously on his mother, as well as routine searches of his parents’ bedroom, Oliver begins to neglect Jordana in her time of need; this negligence includes not showing up to the hospital on the day of Jordana’s mother’s surgery after she specifically asks him to be there. As is often the case when shit gets too real, Oliver could not resist the inclination to bail.

In their happier days.

Consequently, Jordana breaks up with him in a letter, leaving Oliver utterly heartbroken and full of regret. The issues between his parents having resolved themselves (though his mother “gave a hand job to a mystic”), Oliver can now only think of Jordana (who already has a new bloke. Bitch works it.) and all he has lost as a result of his waffling. His parents console him by telling him that none of this will matter when he’s thirty-eight (I’m guessing that’s the age they are, so that’s why they pull that number out). Oliver allows this small comfort to placate him for a time, but then ultimately decides that this will matter when he’s thirty-right. Because he genuinely and truly is in love with Jordana (what do you expect? Wales has a very minuscule population).

A knowing glance.

The romance of Submarine is accented by the scenery of a country that is often relegated to the role of being a poor substitute for England. I mean, fuck, if the U.S. had half as much picturesque coastline, there would be a new love story in theaters every week. But no, most of our backgrounds feature a Wal-Mart. Also adding to the romance factor is Alex Turner of Arctic Monkeys comprising most of the film’s soundtrack. So yeah, it’s a double threat of romance. Be careful. You might get the idea that it could happen to you.

The awkward romance genre has really taken off since the twenty-first century began. In a world where marriage is less and less appealing and where the conventional has become increasingly more difficult to obtain (what with the whole unemployment pandemic), the desire twenty/thirty-somethings have to see a movie relationship (or lack thereof) that mirrors their own has clearly augmented in recent years. Mike Mills, whose first movie, Thumbsucker, was released in 2005 and followed the life of a seventeen year old with a thumbsucking problem, has waited six long years to come out with a sophomore effort–and let me tell you, after you see this film, you’ll understand why.

Promotional poster for Beginners.

Based on Mills’ own experience with his father’s impending death, as well as coming out to Mills at seventy-five years of age, Beginners follows Oliver’s (Ewan McGregor) difficulty in coming to terms with Hal’s (Christopher Plummer) newfound zeal for fucking dudes in the wake of his mother’s death. Around the same time that Hal gets his groove back, he is soon after diagnosed with stage four cancer. Still, Hal insists they needn’t tell anyone and that he actually feels like he is getting better (to which Oliver casually points out, “There is no stage five.”).

As Hal approaches death, he grows closer to his son, Oliver.

After his father passes away, Oliver takes custody of his dog, Arthur, who becomes clingier and more attached to him than a battered housewife. With this canine, Mills’ writing and directorial skills evidence a clearly altered style, one of the most notable characteristics being that Arthur is able to communicate with Arthur via subtitles. Such “indie” pandering was not present in Thumbsucker, but then, that material was based on another writer’s work (Walter Kirn’s 1999 novel of the same name).

Arthur and his dysfunctional brood.

Oliver fumbles through a mixture of treacle (big up to Arctic Monkeys for introducing me to that word) and silent anger until he meets Anna (Mélanie Laurent, who you recognize from Inglourious Basterds) at a Halloween party. He, dressed as Freud, unenthusiastically listens to other partygoers tell him their problems on the couch in the living room. It is then that Anna, who we later learn has laryngitis, lays down and writes the following question on a pad of paper: “Why are you at a party if you’re sad?” From that point forward, it’s a comfortable sort of love and admiration that they share for one another. And P.S. Why the fuck can’t shit like that actually happen? Only in a Mike Mills/Wes Anderson/Charlie Kaufman/(insert other premier indie director here) can two socially stunted heterosexual people find one another and fall in love with the other’s quirks.

When everything is new.

Interweaving flashbacks of Oliver’s past–including his flawed mama’s boy upbringing–with his romantic present reveals an incisive juxtaposition for delineating why he has never been able to make a relationship endure. Based on one of Mills’ more illustrious quotes on filmmaking,

Making a movie is so hard, you’d better make movies about something you really know about. And even more, it’s really good to make movies about things you need to figure out for yourself, so you’re driven the whole way through. It’s going to make things more crucial for you.

I’d say this bastard knew quite a bit on the subject of love and all of its defects. Or maybe this movie is just a product of too much time spent with Miranda July.

The solution to all of Oliver's problems.

Oliver does his best to navigate through the concept of a lasting love, finding ways to amuse himself in the interim (e.g. writing historically conscious graffiti like “1985 Bush Finds Jesus” or “2003 Britney Spears Most Googled” throughout the walls of Los Angeles). But somehow, he just can’t comprehend the idea that things could really work out between him and Anna, which is why you might truly be surprised by the film’s ending–mind you, all indie romances have to end on a semi-ambiguous note. Undoubtedly, it’s a rule they’ll soon be incorporating into “How to Write a Screenplay” books.

Of all the subjects/icons to explore in the multi-faceted world of pop culture, it is safe to say that John Lennon and all things The Beatles have been systematically and obsessively catalogued–whether the film in question is a documentary or a more stylized rendering, as is the case with Sam Taylor-Wood’s Nowhere Boy.

Promotional poster for Nowhere Boy

What separates this particular film from some of the rest of its ilk is the fact that it is based on a memoir by Julia Baird called Imagine This: Growing Up With My Brother John Lennon (a real subtle title, by the way). This memoir, incidentally, was not the first that Baird, who shared John’s beloved mother Julia Lennon, has penned. The other was released in 1988 and called, in yet another bid for clinging to celebrity, John Lennon, My Brother (legitimized by a foreword from Paul McCartney). I suppose Baird didn’t want to split hairs in this instance either by referring to Lennon as her half brother.

Aaron Johnson as the adolescent John Lennon.

Another distinguishing factor regarding this film is just how heavily it focuses on Lennon’s highly intense relationships with both his mother and his Aunt Mimi (who raised him as her own child from the time he was five years old). Along with Lennon’s Uncle George (played by David Threlfall), Mimi ensured John’s well-being in the face of Julia Lennon’s erratic behavior and lack of self-control when it came to men. But, at around the age of 16, when Lennon’s Uncle George died, Julia reintroduced herself into his life, an occurrence that was initially a source of elation for Lennon, but soon turned into yet another glaring familial disappointment. Once Lennon had grown deeply attached to Julia (especially after she had shared her deep love of American music with him), she, true to form, caved into the demands of the man in her life (her second husband Bobby Dykins), who insisted that Julia already had two other daughters to raise that needed her more than Lennon.

Aunt Mimi (Kristin Scott Thomas) was one of the few disciplinarians in John's life.

This sudden desire to distance her son from her life comes at a bit of an inopportune time for Lennon, recently suspended from school for carrying around “pornography” with him (a.k.a. a titty rag). Rather than tell Mimi about this indiscretion, he has instead been relying on Julia for a place to go during the day whilst he is supposed to be in school. Now that Mimi has been made aware of how willing John is to cast her off in favor of her sister, she seems to soften a bit more, even encouraging him in his quest to start a rock n’ roll band.

Another, perhaps more psychedelic, promotional poster for Nowhere Boy

While there are various events in Nowhere Boy that appear more than a little questionable, such as John saying, “Why couldn’t God have made me Elvis?” and his mother responding sweetly, “Because he was saving you for John Lennon” or the manner in which John is first introduced to both Paul McCartney and George Harrison, screenwriter Matt Greenhalgh (the brilliant mind responsible for the Ian Curtis/Joy Division biopic Control) uses the source material to the utmost advantage, extrapolating from the memoir as much high drama as possible.

Lennon: Always photographed with a tinge of vulnerability.

The primary fault with Nowhere Boy, however, is that, as a viewer, there really isn’t any new information to be gleaned from the film (accentuated tenfold when taking into account the sort of Beatles enthusiast that would go into it with a considerable amount of foreknowledge). Yes, John Lennon was deeply affected and emotionally damaged by how callous and often flighty his mother was. It more than likely shaped the rebellious rock star persona he so carefully cultivated. But we already knew that. What Nowhere Boy subconsciously reiterates, though, is how inconsequential Ringo Starr and Cynthia Powell are with respect to their total absence from the story.

Certain moments in history, particularly the repressed, scandalized era of the 1950s in the United States, appear to be more exciting than they actually are when translated to film. Good Night, and Good Luck, Far From Heaven, and Pleasantville are just a few examples of how a filmmaker is extremely hard-pressed to make the fifties appear noteworthy beyond the electrocution of the Rosenbergs, I Love Lucy, and the emergence of Elvis. The trial surrounding Allen Ginsberg’s then controversial work of poetry, Howl and Other Poems, serves as the basis for Howl, another such example of a film set in the expurgative decade of Eisenhower that struggles to be compelling.

Promotional poster for Howl

As the prologue of the film explains, Howl intermixes elements of illustrations from the poem itself with court transcripts from the case and interviews with Allen Ginsberg, leaving literally no room for any type of artistic license or creative interpretation. The film could have just as easily been billed as a documentary. Perhaps the sole benefit of the joint writing and directing efforts of Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman is that it gave James Franco as Allen Ginsberg the opportunity to prove, once and for all, that he is capable of being more than just a Judd Apatow lackey.

Franco as Ginsberg, with his life partner Peter Orlovsky (played by Aaron Tveit, who may look familiar to you if you've ever seen season three of Gossip Girl).

It is no difficult feat to see how much Franco invested in embodying the persona of Ginsberg–from his speech to his physical mannerisms to his perpetually abstruse facial expression. In comparison to some of the other heavyweight actors in the film, like Jeff Daniels and Mary-Louise Parker, Franco unquestionably overshadows everyone else. This includes Jon Hamm, who I suppose is inclined to take any role where he can dress and act similarly to Don Draper.

Recreating the scene where one of poetry's most famous lines, "I saw the greatest minds of my generation destroyed by madness," was incepted.

The fundamental problem with Howl is that the premise for it is too broad. It tries simultaneously to focus on the trial that took place as a result of City Lights Bookstore publishing Ginsberg’s poetry, but also Ginsberg’s extremely storied personal life. In conjunction with these two incredibly dense subject matters, Howl also attempts to add the poem itself, “Howl,” into the mix by incorporating it mainly unsuccessfully with scenes that the filmmakers felt were apropos.

Franco portrays Ginsberg's sexual longing for straight men particularly well.

Primarily, the only items one can really take away after seeing Howl is that notoriety often shrouds talent and that James Franco is actually quite adept at playing bisexual, sexually confused, or gay men from the past (I’m using Milk and James Dean as references).

For as vast a city as New York is, most people are nonetheless somewhat familiar with its various boroughs and neighboring cities, but still, City Island, a small fishing/seaport community in the Bronx is rarely mentioned within the context of New York. Enter writer-director Raymond De Felitta to remedy such pervasive anonymity. City Island is an atypical tale of family dysfunction and secrets, including a patriarch (Andy Garcia) who aspires to be the next Marlon Brando, a matriarch who lusts after the convicted felon her husband brings home (he is a prison guard, or corrections officer as he likes to distinguish) with the hidden motive that the parolee is his son, a daughter who strips at a local dive to hide the fact that she got kicked out of school, and a son who has a fetish for feeding extremely large women. So yeah, family wise, Father of the Bride it is not.

Promotional poster for City Island

Andy Garcia as Vince Rizzo commences the film with “You asked me about my secret, my most personal secret, my secret of all secrets. Like most people, I guess I’ve got a few.” One of those secrets is taking an acting class in the city, where he meets a somewhat over the hill British actress who has yet to catch her big break. This also furnishes Alan Arkin with a memorable role as their acting teacher, Michael, a man who has clearly been at the acting game for quite some time and who gives an impassioned diatribe about the pointlessness of pauses in acting dialogue, specifically singling out Marlon Brando, incidentally Vince’s inspiration for wanting to pursue this career in the first place.

Michael throws Molly (Emily Mortimer) and Vince together in an acting exercise that involves telling each other their most personal secret. After they are given their assignment, the two strangers head over to Empire Diner (which I highly recommend going to if you happen to be in the vicinity of New York) to confess. Only Vince is the one who does most of the confessing, shocked by the recent discovery that the son he left behind twenty-four years ago, Tony Nardella (Steven Strait), has wound up in the very prison where he works. Molly counsels him on the importance of telling his wife, Joyce (Julianna Margulies), as a means to reconnect with her. But, in the meantime, she stays mum about her own secret.

Emily Mortimer as deeply troubled actress Molly

Vince partially takes Molly’s advice and brings Tony into his home as a courtesy to the memory of Tony’s mother, who Tony sums up as a “drunk whore.” All the while Vince Jr. (Ezra Miller), possibly the most demented of the family, lusts after his overweight neighbor, joining her online fetish group to gain a twenty-four hour glimpse into her kitchen while she cooks, eats, and turns a profit. Vince Jr.’s sister, Vivian (Dominik Garcia-Lorido, who looks a bit like a poor man’s Jamie Lynn Sigler), also brings a whole bag of issues home with her on “spring break,” though for her it’s just a week she is forced to give up a panty full of bills in order to keep up the ruse that she is still in college.

Behind the scenes of City Island

The potential for drama in this hotbed of subterfuge, hidden truths, and fear of disapproval is what makes City Island the latest example of what a film about a family in turmoil should look like. And, apart from the extreme suspension of disbelief that goes with accepting the idea that Vince miraculously lands a part in a Martin Scorsese movie and the opening titles that look like they were made using iMovie, this film sets a new standard for the tragicomic nature of families.