I’ll admit from the start that I don’t quite know how to write about Joel and Ethan Coen’s new film “A Serious Man” (newly released on DVD), but I’ll begin with a few things I know for sure. I know that this is a hysterically funny movie and that it made me laugh so hard that my stomach started to ache. I know that it is very personal on the part of the filmmakers and that it is perfectly executed for just that reason. I’m confident that it achieves a polished completeness and finality that many directors only dream of.

But do I understand it?

I wish.

Here’s the rundown: Life is unraveling for physics professor and generally good man Larry Gopnik. His wife, Judith, is having an affair with an aloof family friend and wants a divorce. His brother Arthur (Richard Kind) is emotionally and physically incapable of living alone and spends his nights in Larry’s living room.

The Gopnik children, Danny and Sarah, are pilfering cash from their father’s wallet to buy pot and save up for a nose job. There’s an anonymous person writing nasty letters to the university to tarnish Larry’s good reputation and destroy his chances at tenure. An unhappy graduate student is attempting to bribe him for a better math grade with an envelope of large bills.

Distraught and terribly confused, Larry sets out on a quest to find some balance to the chaos. A devout Jew, he’s advised by his friends to talk to the rabbi. He consults three and they all have different non-answers. Temptations arise, questions go unanswered, doors get slammed in his face, and Larry is confronted with many a harrowing choice, each one compounding the mystery of the Coen brothers’ latest existential riddle.

The Coens know how to harvest the hilarity out of life’s absurdity and A Serious Man is a movie for those of us who can laugh at exaggerated characters put in situations that easily reach a level of gleefully deranged poeticism. Here we have messages written on the back of people’s teeth, a rabbi who quotes Jefferson Airplane, and a perpetually drained cyst all working to prove yet again that these filmmakers specialize in their own brand of niche comedy.

Newcomer Michael Stuhlbarg imbues Larry Gopnik with a jittery, painful unease that makes his strife even more relatable. His character shares many similarities to William H. Macy’s character in the Coen’s “Fargo,” but whereas Jerry Lundegaard caved to criminal activity under the crushing weight of self-pity, Larry Gopnik chooses to fight it out and make the most of his ability to choose. It’s a delicate balance and Stuhlbarg pulls it off beautifully.

In typical Coen fashion, the supporting characters nearly steal the show, particularly Fred Melamed who plays Sy Ableman, the agonizingly serious and overbearing family friend who has stolen the heart of Larry’s wife. Sy Ableman is the kind of friend who thinks it advantageous to uncork a Bordeaux and chat politely with Larry about how his marriage should end. His throbbing, earnest insistence is completely riotous as he suggests that Larry move out of the house to a local motel called the Jolly Roger. “Larry, Larry, Larry,” he intones, “I think, really, the Jolly Roger is the best course of action. It has a pool.”

The story is set in the 1960s and lensed in sharp focus by veteran cinematographer Roger Deakins. Nothing is amiss in this film. Each dramatic and comedic note is pitch-perfect. The characters in the absurd world fit the structure like puzzle pieces.

And that may be the greatest mystery, because when we step back and look at the whole puzzle, it’s hard to be sure what exactly it is. If you took one piece away, the whole structure would fall, but like any truly great piece of art, questions are necessary to interpret why everything fits.

For example: Why does Larry Gopnik suffer so much? Is it as a result of something he’s done? Does he need to make better choices? What does it mean to be a good man? Could Larry ever achieve it? Is it possible for anyone to be truly good?

What can we make of the film’s spare hopeful moments, including a startling intrusion of grace just before the final act? Are these tiny shreds of common grace sufficient to make life worth living? And how does that darned Jewish fable at the beginning of the film relate to the rest of the story?

Much has been said of how “A Serious Man” is a retelling of the Biblical story of Job, that pitiable saint put to the test by the devil to see if he would deny God. Nearly drowned by an undertow of uncertainty, Job had the courage to say of God, “Though he slay me, yet I will trust in him.” Whether you think this wise or foolish, the Coens appear to have a more secular course of action in mind.

The film begins with a proverb from Rashi: “Receive with simplicity everything that happens to you.” Is this the blanket answer to all the questions of “A Serious Man”? I think the auteurs behind it would say yes – and even though it seems like a terribly simplistic retort, they can be applauded for finding a strangely funny, very dark, and surprisingly humane way to announce it.

The film “Invictus” is both stirring entertainment and a history lesson about a remarkable convergence of sport and statesmanship.

The place is South Africa; the year is 1995. Nelson Mandela is a free man after 27 years as a political prisoner, who has become president of a post apartheid country, still in racial turmoil. The event is the World Cup of Rugby, being hosted by the usually formidable national team, The Springboks. This year, however, the team is less than great, but has the opportunity to help create needed national unity and self respect. This true story is the account of Mandela’s forming of an unlikely alliance with the captain, Francois Pienaar, fostering a fever of multi racial support for what was typically viewed as the white man’s sport. The story book ending became one more chapter in Mandela navigating a political and social minefield, using sport and symbols, like some use music, to fuse cohesiveness…contributing to an unexpected win of the championship by beating the seemingly indestructible New Zealand team.

The film is notable, not just because it tells the story well, but because it embeds the narrative in the strength and grace of flawed men, Mandela and Pienaar, trying to do something noble, something “more than.” It is a fascinating study of political leadership, social change, and individual pedigree.

The fiber of these men fits the Victorian poem from which the film takes its title. Both men showcase how big ideas, and the wardrobe of words we use to clothe them, can be well used. However, they can also be badly used. As an example of both, for Nelson Mandela, the poem was an inspiration in prison, but for Timothy McVeigh it was an arrogant and unremorseful statement as he was about to be executed for perpetrating the Oklahoma City bombing. He had no last words, except to refer to his hand written copy of the poem.

The Mandela/McVeigh spectrum indicates that it is the “more than” that should be the pursued prize. There is no simple formula for this, but there are traits, after which these two men demonstrably chase.

One trait is the possessing of an Invictus-type drive. It is the whim of most New Year’s resolutions which leaves them often as easy to make as to mock. And wasn’t it Yogi Berra who said, “It’s tough to make predictions, especially about the future”? This sort of whim and uncertainty are best rivaled by the deliberate hunt for more. They concur with Nuala O’Faolain’s fierce, albeit imperfect, refusal to settle, and “need to howl”.

This refusal reflects a large kind of life which tends toward a maturing grasp of human nature, in both its angst and its wonder. It’s a dualism where Hamlet meets Don Quixote, as a melancholy knight of sorts. These are the ones who feel their own pain as well as that of others, and whose own wounds, instead of crippling, morph into a muscular care for the good of others. They understand the power of lost things as well as the tyranny of things past, aware that even a sight or sound or smell or word can retain all their abilities to wound intact. Armed with this, it matters to them when they see someone whose body now resembles the question mark they have become. It matters when they see someone who is under such weight, that when they sit, the chair seems to groan in agreement. These people are such a good place to be that they usually make others feel vaguely homesick…because they strangely feel like home.

Maybe most important for healthy Invictus types is that it is love that drives their story. Love is what prevents their story from feeling mechanical or contrived, the way you feel rusting machinery cranking away. The point is, if you are going to fail, fail at loving. Sadly, too many love when it is convenient and easy. For these, when faced with difficulty, it is a short walk to living in retreat, and being willing to swap caring for cool distance.

Invictus-type people tend toward thoughtful authenticity; they refuse to phone in passable impersonations, lives that are more skywriting and sleepwalking than grounded realism. And they want their thinking to be vibrant, a floating set of anchors, constantly searching for better ways of seeing, all the while resisting their own ideology, and even their theology, ever becoming pathology.

Also, they believe that language itself can shape reality, and therefore respect and enjoy the work of words. They agree with Sartre that “words are loaded pistols,” and ask with Sylvia Plath, “What ceremony of words can patch the havoc?” They are looking for words that both adequately explain and that make a difference.

The grim reality is that too many lives which could be grist for fascinating stories often aren’t. The lofty side of the Invictus story is more like “carpe diem” on high alert, while cobbling together the traits of “more than” thinking, of love, and of well used words, with the desire to unbreak someone’s heart as much as it is to fix a culture.

In regard to these things, the film exudes inspiration, how to summon it, and how to communicate it. And as such, while it is worth seeing…the ideas are worth even more.

In 1998, Nora Ephron directed “You’ve Got Mail,” one of the first movies about Internet communication. Following in her own tradition, Ephron has now made “Julie & Julia” (out on DVD this Tuesday), perhaps the first movie about blogging and one that also happens to be about legendary chef Julia Child.

In 2002, Julie Powell (Amy Adams) lives in post-9/11 New York City with her husband, Eric, and spends her days in a cubicle answering phones for a government recovery agency. She’s on the verge of 30, her office hours are long, her closest friends are corporate jerks and the only relief from a hard day of work is the solace of her miniscule kitchen.

In need of a challenge, she picks up Julia Child’s “Mastering the Art of French Cooking” and decides (at first against her will) to cook her way through all 524 recipes in 365 days and blog about it all the way along.

In a story told simultaneously, an American woman named Julia Child (Meryl Streep) has just moved to post-World War II Paris with her husband Paul (Stanley Tucci) and refuses to conform to the French housewife mold of daily hat-making classes. Improbably tall at six feet, two inches, she doesn’t fit in easily either.

But her first meal in France is a revelation for her (the real Julia would later describe it as “an opening of soul and spirit”), prompting her doting husband to ask over dinner, “What is it that you really like to do?” Her reply: “Eat.”

This love of French food—a love not derived from pretense, but from intense gastronomical pleasure—prompts her to join a cooking class at Le Cordon Bleu cooking school, in which she is the only woman. Years after finding her niche in the kitchen, she’ll have the world’s top cooking show, a bestselling French cookbook, and she’ll teach Julie Powell and millions of others how to revel in the hard-won pleasures of gourmet cooking.

Director Nora Ephron clearly has a passion for food and there are scenes in which she makes the process so vivid that it begins to look easy. She has the visuals down, but her script is a different matter. In her best films (“You’ve Got Mail,“ “When Harry Met Sally”), Ephron creates her characters out of educated, sexually frustrated, New York-dweller archetypes, but when writing for characters who already exist outside of her normal paradigm, Ephron proves uncomfortable in their skin. Luckily, she has good performers on her side.

Amy Adams never fails to be delightful even when she’s given mediocre material.

Julie Powell’s side of the story is rather bland, sometimes making one wish the film was a “Just Julia” show because Meryl Streep, as can be expected, mimics Julia Child with sparkling exactness in a performance that never veers into caricature or satire.

Per the script, the role of Julia isn’t a terribly serious one, but it’s clear that Streep has studied Child’s mannerisms and, of course, her voice. She even mimics the sudden straightening of the back when the chef would sit up, as if suddenly remembering to keep posture a priority. What a chameleon she is.

Both Julie and Julia find themselves charging into new territory. At first glance, one might say that each woman has the same goal: to become a better cook. But this is just Julia’s task—a task that leads her into a future of fame.

Julie Powell already loves to cook (she’s making a beautiful bruschetta in one of her first scenes), but blogging is her challenge. Just as Julia’s new life in France injects her with impetus to cook, so Julie’s goal of cooking and blogging through “Mastering the Art of French Cooking” forces her to become the writer her husband has always told her she is. The real Julie Powell would go on to become a successful published author.

A few years ago, Pixar’s masterful film “Ratatouille,” with the help of a rat with impeccably good taste, told us “anyone can cook.” In Julia Child’s story, her love of eating quickly became a love of cooking. Known for wearing pearls in the kitchen and never, ever disguising her cooking blunders (“Never apologize!” she would always say), she remains a role model for anyone who loves great food – and “Julie & Julia” is a blithe and informative little comedy that is as unpretentious as the legendary chef herself.

If you want to bear witness to a few moments of perfect cinema, watch the first couple minutes of Spike Jonze’s “Where the Wild Things Are.”  Here we’re introduced to the indefatigable young Max as he builds a snow fort in his neighbor’s yard.  He’s packed the snow tight into an igloo and slides in and out of the opening he has made without a care in the world.  The icy tones of the image, the crackling of the snow, Max’s breathless panting, the smile on his face; this is childhood, and a moment perfectly suited as an opener to the long-awaited adaptation of Maurice Sendak’s classic children’s book.

Max runs across the street and peeks in his house to get his teenage sister’s attention.  She’s busy on the phone and her friends are coming over soon.  Spurned, he goes back to his fort, but when the friends arrive, Max initiates a surprise snowball fight from behind the fence.

The fight, born from an innocent hunger for fun, escalates suddenly and ends with an older boy crushing Max’s snow fort with an impassioned, vindictive leap.  The defeated Max emerges from the snow fort with tears rolling down his face as his sister hops in the car with her friends and drives away without even a wave or caring gesture.  In turn, Max runs into the house and tears her room apart, crushing even the paper heart he once made her for Valentine’s Day.

Here we are introduced to the other side of Max.  Like any small child, he is easily hurt and his fragile emotions ever vulnerable.  He cauterizes this hurt through destruction and anger and after an evening altercation with his mother (the beautiful and reliable Catherine Keener), bolts from inside the house onto the street where he soon loses his way and gets lost in the woods.  Soon enough, he has escaped to the imaginary land of the wild things.

The wild things are beautiful puppet/CG creations elegantly envisioned by the Jim Henson Company and voiced by the likes of James Gandolfini, Paul Dano, Catherine O’Hara, and Chris Cooper.  Lumbering through their native land – a wondrous place in walking distance from an ocean, a desert, and a verdant forest – they sound like humans, have the momentary reasoning power of adults, and use the logic of the smallest children.

Upon entering the land of the wild things, screenwriter Dave Eggers takes Maurice Sendak’s setting and transforms it into a literary world where Max’s real-life experience is mirrored in the words, actions, emotions, and thoughts of the wild creatures.  Their world looks much different than reality, but the emotions of the heart and the consequences of actions remain the same – and for Max, this is the most profound surprise.

The film hinges on Max, and Jonze and his team have snagged the perfect child for the role: Max Records.  How a small child could keep a character like this so stunningly consistently throughout a two-hour film that takes place in so many settings and sustains so many imaginative flourishes is stunning.  Then again, perhaps he’s just being himself.

Still, because it tries so hard to faithfully envision childhood imagination, “Where the Wild Things Are” is often visually and aurally confusing.  The wild things act like children, and while Jonze’s camera inhabits their land, it does too.  We’re taken from one immaculately designed setpiece to another, faced with the immaturity and confusion of one wild thing after another, and soon enough we’re disoriented.  Is this the point?  Perhaps, but cinematically less is more for a land like this.

And though it may be far from obvious, this is not a children’s film.  It is dark, it is often harrowing (in a PG kind of way), and it is free from the sentimentality and romanticism that plagues lesser films about children.  Warner Bros. rejected a preliminary cut of the film months ago because it was too dark, and with the final product in view it doesn’t seem like much has been toned down.

Humor me some introspection, if you will.  Exiting “Where the Wild Things Are,” I felt as if I had missed something, for I found myself thinking, “If only someone would please calm that kid down!”  I soon realized why.

I am not Max.  I wasn’t the energetic kid who built forts out of chairs and blankets, who ran around in an animal costume and wished he could run without stopping for ever and ever.  On the contrary, I was the kid from that children’s classic “The Red Balloon,” quietly content to myself, glad to follow the metaphorical red balloon around the streets for hours on end.

I don’t think my caustic reaction to Max is entirely unfounded, but to eschew him would be to close my eyes to what a profoundly wounded character he is.  Though there are moments when Jonze urges us to empathize with Max’s misbehavior to an unhealthy extent, his vision of Sendak’s story culminates in a subtle redemptive flourish that is stunning in its power and profound in its implications.

All the imagination in the world may help a boy function in private, but it is the love and care of people in the real world that shape a young man.  This is the heart of “Where the Wild Things Are” and a lesson that will hopefully take root in the hearts of people who welcome this classic story into their lives now and in the years to come.

“The Brothers Bloom” is a whopper of a tale. It follows the typical con man falls for the con plot, but “The Brothers Bloom” is far from typical. It’s fantastical, far-fetched and riveting. Writer/director Rian Johnson, who brought us the neo-noir film “Brick” (2005) is back in action and clearly having a heck of a time.

The story follows the lives of con men Stephen (Ruffalo) and Bloom (Brody) from their early days when they were kids to the height of their deceptive prowess. After their latest escapade Bloom decides that this isn’t the life for him. Years later, Stephen shows up with one last con for the duo to pull off.

While being repetitive nearing the end of the film, I found the story to be fresh and lively. The plots within the story seemed more convoluted than they actually were and were easily followed, giving the viewer more freedom to experience the film. There were times, however, when I felt like the film needed a little more subtlety. While the narrator was needed and kept the story going at its brisk pace, I occasionally felt that the narrator gave away too much information. There were also a few quick flashbacks near the end of the film that were redundant.

The subtext of the film is hard to pinpoint, and I expect that I will be revisiting this film very soon. It’s difficult because “The Brothers Bloom” is at times subtle and at times very upfront about what’s going on. Thinking back, one of my favorite scenes is when Bloom, who has been struggling with his personal freedom (seemingly) steals an apple at random. It’s a defining moment for Bloom and for the theme of free will, which is ironic within the environment of the film.

While Bloom is the main character of the film, Mark Ruffalo is the talent that shines. Mixing Cary Grant with a dash of Paul Newman, Ruffalo exudes a roguish charm, topped off with a black fedora.

Robbie Coltrane shows up as a minor character, and Joseph Gordon-Levitt sneaks in with my favorite cameo of the year so far. The character of Bang Bang (Rinko Kikuchi), while mildly entertaining, is an unnecessary character that has very little bearing on the other characters…although she did bring explosives.

At the end of the day I have to ask myself, did I take much away from the film? I’m not sure. But it was quite a ride, and I look forward to watching it again.

Inglorious Basterds
Directed By: Quentin Tarantino
Written By: Quentin Tarantino
Starring: Brad Pitt, Melanie Laurent, Christoph Waltz

“I make movies for the planet Earth”
-Quentin Tarantino

We’ve all heard of writer/director Quentin Tarantino, from his early days working as a video store clerk to his successful independent feature, Reservoir Dogs. Highly controversial in his presentation of violence, language, and race, he has developed a rare fanbase over the years that draws from everyday moviegoers to hardened cineastes. Tarantino’s blend of pulp, dialogue, and homage to other films are his defining characteristics.

Inglorious Basterds, easily one of his most accessible films to date, is set during World War II in Nazi-occupied France. The titular heroes are a group of Jewish-American soliders led by Aldo “The Apache Raine” (Brad Pitt). Raine gets his nickname from his habit of scalping Nazis. The Basterds are charged with the duty of wreaking havoc among  the German ranks, which they do with glee.

The film starts with a fantastic scene that sets the tone for the rest of the film, introducing us to the protagonist, villain, and length of scenes. Tarantino has described Inglorious Basterds as a World War II spaghetti-western, and this is evidenced here. It also has one of the best references to The Searchers that I’ve ever seen.

Inglorious Basterds is broken up into five separate chapters, complete with title cards. With the way that each chapter feels like only one long scene, I think the title cards were a smart move, creating the rhythm of the film.

One element that I highly appreciate from this film is the wide range of international actors in the film hailing from France, Austria, Spain, and especially, Germany. (Take that, Valkyrie) Tarantino’s use of subtitles in the film was also a good move. The liberties that he took with that, noticed more in the opening scene, were quite humorous.

I was surprised at how little screen-time the Basterds received overall, focusing more on Shoshanna (Melanie Laurent) and Col. Hans Landa (Christoph Waltz). The praise goes to Waltz for his chilling and nonchalant performance as Landa, “The Jew Hunter.” Expecting the film to heavily wallow in the gratuitous actions of the Basterds (which are shown on screen), I was more involved in the story than I expected to be.

It takes a while to get there, but the ending is thrilling to say the least. Tarantino could have taken the film several different ways and kept me guessing until the fade to black. The final shot is as close to Tarantino’s trunk as you can get without actually having a trunk.

The marquee of the historic Tivoli Theater in Chattanooga shone brightly Saturday evening with the announcement of The Broad Street Film Festival awards ceremony. Over 400 students from Bryan College and Covenant College converged upon the Tivoli for an evening of awards, music and celebration.

The ceremony was organized by the Medium of Film Class taught by Mr. Michael Palmer and Mr. Chris Clark and was one of the most impressive student-planned events in recent memory. Not only did it mark one of the first meetings of Covenant and Bryan that didn’t involve war paint and screaming, but it was also a riveting celebration of the creative talent evident in both schools.

Artistic abilities were out in full form on Saturday, but not just in the area of film. Each school had impressive music performances – including a cover of MIA’s “Paper Planes” by The Little Foxes and some original tunes from the Covenant band Economy of Sound – and around 40 dancers from Bryan organized a “Dancing Through the Decades” routine with songs ranging from “Rockin’ Robin” to Michael Jackson’s “Thriller.”

Eleven awards – called “Wheelens” in honor of the city of Chattanooga – were handed out on Saturday. Ten of them were judged by a panel of industry professionals from the Chattanooga area and a People’s Choice Award was chosen by the audience at last Thursday’s film showings at the Carmike Bijou in downtown Chattanooga. The 10 judged awards split down the middle with five going to Bryan and five going to Covenant. Covenant also took home the People’s Choice Award for their shot-for-shot remake of Orson Welles’ unaired TV pilot The Fountain of Youth.

The first statuette given to a Bryan film was the Wheelen for Best Original Score awarded to the film You Dropped Your Quarter. The score, composed by Daniel Lawson of West Chester University, was commissioned by the producers of the film and performed by Billy Findley, Colton Davie and myself.

After Covenant swept some awards in technical categories, Bryan made a comeback with awards for Best Actress and Best Actor. Hilary Tullberg took home a Wheelen for her performance in Erica Heffelmire’s Danish Day and Rob Yates was awarded for his performance in A Pistol in Hand is Worth Two in the Glove Box. Pistol’s director, Bryce McGuire, also took home the Wheelen for Best Director.

The evening’s biggest honor for Bryan filmmakers was the award for Best Narrative Short Film given to You Dropped Your Quarter, a silent short film directed by Bryce McGuire and produced by Colton Davie, Erica Heffelmire, and myself. The audience roared when the award was announced and all attending cast and crew rushed to the stage to receive the honor.

Colton Davie gave the acceptance speech for the film.

“It was nice to win the award,” says Davie, “but even better was the audience’s response to the movie at the screenings and at the awards.”

Students from Covenant planned the after-party hosted at Loose Cannon Studios in Chattanooga. There was plenty of loud music and food, but the best part was a separate room for the filmmakers from both schools to meet and talk about their filmmaking experiences and ideas.

Here’s hoping that The Broad Street Film Festival becomes a tradition for Bryan and Covenant because the creative possibilities from the two schools coming together are endless. In the words of Colton Davie and the crew of Your Dropped Your Quarter, “Team work makes dreams work!”

Up
Directed By: Pete Doctor / Bob Peterson
Written By: Bob Peterson
Voices: Edward Asner / Christopher Plummer

Up is the latest animated film from Disney / Pixar, and is a treat for all ages. It follows the exploits of Carl Fredricksen, a disgruntled, elderly balloon salesman, and a local boy scout named Russell, as they set off in a grand adventure to South America in Carl’s house, propelled by a plethora of colorful balloons.

That’s the most that I want to give away from a film that everyone should experience for themselves. I was impressed by the balance between the style and the narrative in Up. The opening 15 minutes or so, for example, is in essence a montage, that blends the two together perfectly and sets up the rest of the film nicely.

Pixar has a history of technical excellence, and Up definitely falls into this category. It was released in 2D and 3D formats, and I applaud the Pixar team for creating a 3D film that doesn’t feel too gimmicky. The 3D format accentuates the film, and doesn’t draw too much attention to itself, taking the viewer out of the experience.

From the beginning of the film, the story evokes feelings of nostalgia, childlike innocence. While Up is a decidedly humorous (Sometimes too silly for my tastes) family film, it’s also very serious, touching upon themes of family, belonging, and fear.

Following in the footsteps of WALL·E, I love Pixar’s emphasis on non-verbals, especially in the opening montage, drawing upon Charlie Chaplin’s physicality, antics, and especially pathos. The emotionality of the film was especially heightened by Michael Giacchino’s breathtaking score, which kept me in my seat during the end credits.

While I found the story especially moving at times, however, some of the dialogue seemed forced and on-the-nose. An example of this would be when Russell tells Carl about his family, a scene that felt like tacked on exposition to get the story moving. In writing a story, subtlety is a virtue.

And while I was more than wiling to accept the fantastic nature of the film by leaving my brain at the door and taking my heart with me, there were certain elements that left me scratching my now empty head.

But aside from a few issues that I had with the film, Up is a truly fantastic film that everyone deserves to see. The themes and characters are so rich that the whole family can take something away from it.

Click here to view the embedded video.

On Thursday, April 16th, (500) Days of Summer started the festival at 7:00 PM. Directed by newcomer Marc Webb, the film is a semi-romantic comedy. (Watch the preview here) Leads Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Zooey Deschanel have a great on-screen chemistry that propels the film. The style and narrative structure of the film is unique and postmodern at times. It is centered around Tom (Gordon-Levitt), who falls in love with Summer (Deschanel). The film jumps around from the aftermath of Summer breaking up with Tom, and the 500 days before-hand. It’s quirky, but at the same time realistic. Look for it’s limited release on July 17th, and pray that it gets picked up for a wider audience.

After the film, there was a quick Q&A between director Marc Webb (right) and Variety film critic Joe Leydon (left). Afterwards I found myself in a conversation with the two outside of the theater. At one point they were talking about the differences between Truffaut and Goddard, at which point Mr. Leydon showed off a tatoo of film strip that read “Truffaut Lives”.

• If you predict the most winners, you will win a gift card to Wal-Mart.
• Please email your predictions to cinexcellence-at-gmail-dot-com
• The deadline for entering the contest is Saturday, April 25, at midnight EST.

Long Narrative:
A Pistol in Hand is Worth Two in the Glove Box
A Park Bench for Todd Kirkland
Give Me a Break
The Fountain of Youth

Short Narrative:
Octopus’ Garden
Sock Feet
You Dropped Your Quarter
Interrogation Room

Director:
A Pistol in Hand is Worth Two in the Glove Box
Sock Feet
The Fountain of Youth
All My Friends

Best Actor:
A Pistol in Hand is Worth Two in the Glove Box: Rob Yates
A Park Bench for Todd Kirkland: Jason Hundley
The Fountain of Youth: Nathanael Booth

Best Actress:
A Park Bench for Todd Kirkland: Brittany McGehee
Danish Day: Hillary Tullberg
The Fountain of Youth: Rachel Yellen

Best Supporting Actor:
My Brother’s Keeper: Clayton Schmidt
Interrogation Room / The Fountain of Youth: Max Belz
Danish Day: Cameron Lane

Best Foreign Film:
Der Zavn

Cinematography:
A Pistol in Hand is Worth Two in the Glove Box
Sense
You Dropped Your Quarter
All My Friends

Editing:
Sense
You Dropped Your Quarter
A Pistol in Hand is Worth Two in the Glove Box

Original Music:
A Pistol in Hand is Worth Two in the Glove Box
Sock Feet
You Dropped Your Quarter