I almost forgot! Garbage Dreams is also screening tonight. It is also a documentary and it is also great! It is about garbage.

Here is what I say:

The Zaballeen, garbage collectors of Cairo, are a proud, close-knit community: they collect trash, they sort it, they recycle 80% of what they find. They live in “garbage villages.” This remarkable documentary manages to be both personal and global: when Cairo contracts foreign companies to collect their garbage, the younger generation of Zaballeen is faced with the dual tensions of losing their business and (less explicitly) not wanting to fucking collect garbage anymore. It's fascinating and, to its credit, not at all sad.

Hey, SIFFers! There are two excellent documentaries screening today—two of the Stranger's absolute favorite films in this year's festival.

Here's Charles Mudede on Manhole Children (it starts at 4:30—sorry about that—but there's still time!):

I could spend hours on Manhole Children, my favorite film of SIFF 2009. It is a story about the effects of neoliberalism (after the fall of the Soviet Union, Mongolia turned to capitalism and plunged thousands upon thousands of people into a deep hole of poverty). It is a story about the city (for shelter and warmth, thousands of homeless children moved into manholes beneath the freezing streets of Ulan Bator). It is a love story (there is one broken heart, and two broken souls). And, lastly, it is a story told with Japanese objectivity, which is not the same as Western objectivity. Do not miss this documentary; it is sad but also as strange as your strangest dreams. Ulan Bator has population of one million.

And Paul Constant on The Fortress:

Thousands of refugees from around the world try to seek asylum in Switzerland, and only a small fraction of those people are actually allowed to stay. The Fortress is about the people stuck in between, guests who are forced to remain in Switzerland’s care during the long documentation process. It’s remarkable to watch the staff deal with two different young men from Africa who have been emotionally crushed by the system. One Swiss social worker hugs his charge and tells him he’ll be okay, but the other coldly repeats the pleas for help to a typist, who dutifully copies them down. Both scenes are riveting.

The Fortress also screens this Friday.

Update: michael strangeways adds...

FYI: SIFF has added another screening of Manhole Children, due to popular demand. It'll screen on Sunday, June 14th at 9pm at SIFF Cinema (McCaw Hall)...it'll be one of the last movies screened at SIFF this year.

No excuse, people.

Last night, I watched Cold Souls at the Harvard Exit. Unfortunately, The Stranger didn't get a screener of the movie before the festival, so here's what our guide says about the movie, sight unseen:

Paul Giamatti, Emily Watson, and David Strathairn star in a movie written and directed by Sophie Barthes. Giamatti stars as himself, an actor preparing to play Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya on Broadway. Science fiction-style soul-swapping is involved. Reviewers from Variety to Cinematical can’t seem to mention this film without evoking Charlie Kaufman’s name—the early, promising, Being John Malkovich-era Kaufman, not the more difficult Synecdoche, New York Kaufman.

I can understand the Kaufman references, but they're really kind of lazy. To be sure, the central plot point of the movie—Paul Giamatti (played by Paul Giamatti) decides to have his soul extracted to ease the emotional stress of acting in Chekhov, and he eventually gets caught up in a web of international intrigue—is superficially reminiscent of Malkovich, but if you go in expecting a clever farce of a movie, you'll be disappointed. First-time feature director Sophie Barthes isn't interested in special effects (although the sets in general and the soul-sucking machine in particular are beautiful). It's a thoughtful, Gogol-esque consideration of what it means to have a soul (as we learned in the Q&A with Barthes after the film, the fact that the title evokes Dead Souls is not a mistake), and the pacing is positively Russian, which is to say: slow.

So forget about Kaufman before you go in, but you should definitely see this movie. It's a real pleasure to see some thoughtful, satirical low-budget science fiction in American film, especially one with such a European sensibility. Cold Souls screens again tomorrow at Harvard Exit at 4:30 pm. You can buy tickets here.

(If you're looking for something to see tonight, I heartily recommend the twisty Romanian psychological thriller Hooked, which screens at the Admiral at 4:30.)

If you haven't read Christopher Frizzelle's wonderful, impassioned essay about John Cassavetes's A Woman Under the Influence, you should:

Her name is Mabel Longhetti. She lives in Los Angeles in the 1970s and wears housedresses with big flowers on them. She's in her 40s, beautiful, a homemaker, a smoker, a tornado of energy. And the moment she runs into the frame—hurrying the kids into grandma's car to get ready for a night-without-the-kids with her husband—the movie shatters open, pops to life, pulls your eyes in. Mabel is played by Gena Rowlands, the real-life wife of John Cassavetes, who wrote and directed A Woman Under the Influence (SIFF is showing a restored print this weekend), and you can tell that he had access to her in ways usually unavailable to directors. This lady they created together is a freakishly vibrant mammal.

Read the whole thing here. A Woman Under the Influence screens tomorrow, 4 pm, at SIFF Cinema.

I've written about fly filmmaking before, and my feeling is that it's really more for filmmakers than audiences. It's an exercise—an interesting one, but not one I necessarily want to [pay to] watch. But SIFF (in partnership with Longhouse Media), smartly turns that process into something meaningful with SuperFly Filmmaking, in which mentors from the film community (Sherman Alexie, Reel Grrls) travel to an area Native American reservation and, over the course of 36 hours, help 50-60 students (60% of whom are Native or indigenous) to storyboard, shoot, and edit their films. This year's student filmmakers will all work from the same script, written by Princess Lucaj (you can download and read it, if you're interested, at the Longhouse Media website).

It's a great program, and a relief—to me—to see fly filmmaking turned into something more constructive than a kooky novelty. This year's SuperFly is taking place as we speak at Squaxin Island Reservation. The films screen tomorrow, 4 pm, at the FutureWave Shorts presentation at the Egyptian.

Well, well, well! If it isn't Wednesday! YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS. (It means that some movies are playing. It's a lot like Tuesday, actually.)

Movies!

Brendan Kiley swooned a goodly amount over The Karamazovs:

A film about a Czech theater company running a dress rehearsal of their distilled, intense adaptation of The Brothers Karamazov in a crumbling Polish factory? While a maintenance man, agonizing because his young son is in the hospital, watches from a distance? How could that possibly be anything but dull? The Karamazovs is, in fact, the opposite of dull—intelligent, energetic, and tragic, like watching a freight train full of kittens running headlong into a missile filled with hope. Hope gets exploded and the kittens all die, but it’s amazing to watch.

You can check out local filmmaker Sandy Cioffi's Sweet Crude, the documentary that landed her in a Nigerian prison.

It's your last chance to see Mid-August Lunch, which Charles Mudede recommends.

Art & Copy is super-excellent, says Dave Schmader:

Documentarian Doug Pray has made a career chronicling American subcultures, from the ground-zero participants/victims of the Seattle Grunge Boom (1994’s classic Hype!) to the loneliness of the long-haul trucker (the 2007 SIFF hit Big Rig). In the new Art & Copy, Pray turns his attention to the advertising world, devoting the majority of the film to Madison Avenue’s major players (happy surprise: a good number of history’s game-changing “Mad Men” are women) and the Ad Campaigns That Revolutionized Everything (from “Morning in America” to “Got Milk?” to “Just Do It”). Framing the historical segments are the day-to-day labors of a third-generation billboard-hanger, adding up to a richly entertaining glimpse at the inner and outer workings of the American ad world’s dream factory.

Eli Sanders liked Prodigal Sons:

It would be hard to invent a more fraught (or more complicated) documentary scenario: A former Montana high school football star who played quarterback when he was still a he returns to Big Sky Country for a class reunion—now named Kimberly, and with her girlfriend in tow. “How can you be a male and now you’re a female but yet you like females?” asks an old friend. That’s the easy encounter. There’s also a brother who had part of his brain removed after a car accident and has some hard feelings about his transgender sister, and, randomly, the discovery of family ties to Orson Welles and Rita Hayworth. About as thorny and discursive as it sounds.

Also playing today: Charles Mudede has high praise for With a Little Help from Myself; Final Arrangements is pleasant French cheeze; and Kabei: Our Mother is "noiseless, graceful, and delicate." Oh, also, I realize that I'm No Dummy is tantalizing for those of us who like to ogle creepy shit, but Andrew Wright warns against it. Consider yourself warned.

Here is the trailer for one of my favorite SIFF films, Welcome, which stars my favorite French actor, Vincent Lindon.

Wonderful Welcome screens tonight at the Harvard Exit at 9:15 pm.

Not to be missed today, if you are a person who likes things that are good:

Charles Mudede adores Welcome:

Starring the great Vincent Lindon, Welcome is all about the feeling of longing. And longing is only longing as such if the thing that is longed for is totally out of reach. There are two men in this film—the Iraqi teenager (Firat Ayverdi) and the middle-aged swimming coach (Lindon)—and each longs for a woman. In both cases, she is “somewhere not here.” For the Iraqi teen, the longing becomes a matter of immigration, of crossing borders, and eluding border agents. The desire for the woman is a desire for a better, higher standard of living. For the swimming couch, the woman he loves is symbol of emotional enervation, of lost hope, a sense of emptiness and drifting. The end of this film almost made me cry. And African men don’t cry.

Jon Frosch endorses Summer Hours.

Jen Graves jumps up and down and claps for Laila's Birthday:

Remember that Hollywood movie where that poor, downtrodden, white-collar white guy completely loses his shit? What's it called? Falling Down. Right. Michael Douglas. Well, this movie is the story of a Palestinian father and judge who actually has cause to break down over the course of one unbelievably (and yet typical) day, who actually has cause to become an insane murderous freak a la Michael Douglas, but who doesn't, because, you know, not everything is about him. It is, for instance, his daughter's birthday. You will love this man.

Eli Sanders demands that you see William Kunstler: Disturbing the Universe:

This fantastic documentary is about activist lawyer William Kunstler—director of the ACLU, defender of the Chicago Seven, subject of FBI surveillance, mediator at the Attica uprising, lawyer for Abbie Hoffman and Lenny Bruce. Equally fantastic is that this film was created after Kunstler’s death in 1995 by his two daughters, Emily and Sarah, who, without the gauze of familial loyalty, explore the evolution of a complicated man—their father—who was both a strident idealist and a blatant hypocrite, a selfless activist and a camera-loving egotist, a revered hero and a despised villain. It’s a wonderful, weird, and very American story.

And Jesse Vernon quite likes Daddy Cool:

A dash of magical realism and the ghost of Albert Einstein turn the typically trite tale of the out-of-touch father and his rebellious teenage daughter into over-the-top satirical glory in Francois Desagnat’s Daddy Cool. Daniel Auteuil (nerdy microbiologist) and Juliette Lamboley (faux-rebel hottie) play a clueless father and a 15-years-estranged daughter. Romantical slo-mo scenes, a ludicrous daddy boot camp, and a raging rave in the woods make this film light, funny, and so French.

Tonight is also your last chance to see Spike Lee's Passing Strange.

So get to it! Chop chop!

Great options playing today, whether you're into violent alcoholics or dissolving mollusks or French people doing stuff.

Christopher Frizzelle recommends the global warming horror documentary A Sea Change:

A guy named Sven read an article in The New Yorker that changed his life. The article was Elizabeth Kolbert’s “The Darkening Sea,” which took the popular understanding of global warming (bad stuff going into the air) a step further—as Kolbert points out, eventually “whatever is in the air falls into the ocean.” Now oceans are acidifying and shellfish and other creatures are dissolving, including one bouncy, gorgeous little wisp of an animal you’ve never heard of that baby salmon feed on. The impact to the food chain, to the coral reefs, to the future of life itself make the scientists Sven interviews stare into the middle distance in terror.

(It's also playing tomorrow night in Kirkland, but if you want to see it in Seattle, you'd best go tonight.)

Jen Graves loved two movies with terrible titles—The Strength of Water:

Two 10-year-old Maori twins (a boy and a girl) deliver eggs for their hardworking parents every day, all over town. The landscape is what you notice, not the kids: the natural wealth of the dramatic New Zealand coastline, the relative material poverty of the people living there. You also notice the fascinating Maori traditions and language: the men touching noses as a greeting, the songs, the people who live in the mist. And then a freak accident interrupts the reverie, and the characters find themselves wrapped in a mist of grief. The details are subtle and honorable.

AND Like Dandelion Dust:

Barry Pepper is the unforgettable star of this film: the violent, alcoholic husband who beats his wife, goes to jail for seven years, then decides when he gets out that the only way to make up for what's been lost is to get back their son—the son that his wife (Mira Sorvino) gave up for adoption without telling him while he was in the pen (she forged his signature). The problem, of course, is that the kid has spent his entire happy little life with a wealthy couple in Florida. It is not terribly surprising that tearing him away and giving him to unstable strangers in an Ohio trailer park turns out to be a questionable proposition. But the so-so plot isn't the point here, the acting is. (There also is a shower scene just about as harrowing as, though totally different than, the one in Psycho.) Pepper and Sorvino are tremendous.

And Jon Frosch found Summer Hours to be almost entirely charming:

This French film seems slight at first: three adult siblings (Charles Berling, Juliette Binoche, and Jérémie Rénier), two of whom live abroad, must decide what to do with their recently deceased mother’s country home and art collection. But Olivier Assayas (Demonlover, Boarding Gate), a restless, intelligent filmmaker, opens up the story to larger implications, producing a lovely, meditative examination of globalization’s impact on family and culture. The rigorously naturalistic filmmaking turns ponderous at times, but the movie is infused with the sadness — and inevitability — of passing time and changing ways.

It's also your last chance to see Trimpin: The Sound of Invention, which Jen Graves recommends:

A few years ago there was a huge survey of the artist Trimpin's works all across the Northwest. The trouble was, Trimpin's works are mostly very large, and make a lot of sound (they're sound sculptures!), and so you only got to see one thing at once: this at the Henry Art Gallery, that at Seattle Asian Art Museum, those at Tacoma Art Museum and the Museum of Glass. You also didn't get to meet the man. In this documentary, you get it all. All of his works, a look at his file of 30 years of "Fuck You Letters" (marked suchly), and even a trip back to his native Black Forest to meet his father and sister, who are alternately mildly impressed and mystified by their infinitely tinkering relative.

Other worthy films include Marcello, Marcello (" charming and sunny, taking full advantage of colorful seaside Italy"); Mid-August Lunch ("The sun is out, the streets are clear, the motorbike smoothly turns this way and that"); and A French Gigolo ("A handsome young Frenchman secretly turns tricks to support his wife’s new business enterprise").

Enjoy!

Hello, SIFFers! First of all, if you're interested, you can read my thoughts on the opening night gala here.
And there's good stuff playing today! Good stuff. Also, bad stuff. Here's the situation:

Dominic Holden highly recommends the weird, wonderful A Woman's Way:

You'd think watching an ex-con and a transgender prostitute fall in sweet, sweet love would be weird. But it's not. In A Woman's Way, directed by Panos Koutras, everyone smokes constantly and drinks lots of coffee and booze in Athens, Greece, and our lovers both have a knack for fixing lamps. Then they make graphic love in a whirlpool of rainbow light. Campy friends share the best of advice before keeling over. Funerals are had; babies are fed. It's so wholesome, right? But this modern-day revival of Greek mythology pulls a midpoint mind-fuck that will leave you reeling.

Charles Mudede wrote about With a Little Help from Myself earlier today:

From the director of Monsieur Ibrahim, François Dupeyron, this film is about two things. One, the heat wave in 2003 that killed 14,000 seniors; and two, a family of African immigrants supported spiritually and financially by Sonia (Félicité Wouassi), the insect woman of the 21st century. Her family lives in the projects outside of Paris, and her beauty has captured the heart of a man who drives around the projects picking up old people killed by the heat. The woman also has a bum husband and two sons (one is weird; the other is dumb), and two daughters (one is attractive; the other ugly). The film has lots of great African music and French hiphop.

It's also the opening night of ShortsFest Weekend, so shorts-lovers should walk fast, not walk regular-pace, to SIFF Cinema.

There are also a couple of documentaries playing today, both of which seem like they might be interesting, but range from kinda-lame to UNBEARABLY UBER-LAME: the fawning Pirate for the Sea (me: "[Paul Watson's] unflinching, aggressive activism is inspiring (he calls Greenpeace “corporate whores”), and well worth a documentary, but Pirate for the Sea suffers from an awed, folksy one-sidedness"); and the completely inept Know Your Mushrooms (also me: "A ridiculous and useless ragout of mushroom puns, corny animation, inane trivia, and super-duper-high people describing their boring-ass shroom trips: 'Now. Hey. That might be an interesting thing. Could you go through a wormhole with the mushroom and find yourself on a planet like earth? It sounds like fantasy, whatever, as I keep telling people, yesterday’s science fiction is today’s science, and things we didn’t think were possible are possible'").

I don't recommend either, but Pirate for the Sea is at least mildly engaging. Know Your Mushrooms, on the other hand, WILL KILL YOU. LIKE A FUCKING AMANITA PHALLOIDES.

See you tomorrow!

Screening tonight at SIFF is a film that deserves more attention, With A Little Help From Myself.

The insect woman is all about the body, which is why the climatic scene in Myself is of an old white man spending the last night of his long life on earth worshiping the black body of the African insect woman. He knows and admires its devouring and loving power. He is dead by dawn. The scene is dark and disturbing. But it is precisely these dark and disturbing places that the insect woman takes us. In The Marriage of Maria Braun, a white man returns home from the war only to find his wife selling her body to a black American man. He kills that black man. He is sent to prison. The insect woman does not cease to devour and love life. The nation's respectable identity rises from these muddy and violent situations. Myself, however, represents a new kind of nation: the multitude. Sonia is the the stateless nation of immigrants, global drifters, international dreamers.

The defining existential moment for the immigrant is the moment of crossing a border. This crossing demands the root strength of an insect's will to live. Sonia has a big laugh.

This is a picture of me and Spike Lee after the delicious SIFF dinner organized by One Pot.

As you can see, we are just too black. It's a brother to brother, soul to soul sort of thing.

Four things Spike Lee told me yesterday: One, he thinks something has got to be done about the crazy Kim Jong-il. Two, he is fine with gay marriage ("no problem with that"). Three, he is certain LeBron James is heading to the New York Knicks. Four, he was shocked that Girl 6 stands as my favorite of his films ("You are kidding me right? You rate Girl 6 above Malcolm X and Do the Right Thing? Really? Well, I suppose She Hate Me is your second favorite film, right?"—actually Clockers is my second favorite)

(Spike Lee's new film, Passing Strange, screens tonight at 7.)

(Note: Moon isn't a trick-ending kind of movie, but I still don't want to spoil anything, so I'm going to be really unspecific in my review.)

Pi and Primer proved that you can do great sci-fi with little to no budget. Moon is a bit more ostentatious than those two movies—it's about a blue-collar worker named Sam Bell living alone on an energy-mining colony on the moon at the end of a three-year hitch, so there are a lot more special effects than either one of those examples—but it certainly has the same ambitious reach of the best independent sci-fi films.

Moon was written for Sam Rockwell and it is completely his show: He's in every scene and at times the movie feels so intimate that it could practically be a theatrical production. As Bell begins to lose his mind with two weeks left in his three-year contract, Rockwell does a fine job of staying somewhat likable (he's never entirely likable, to his credit) and never overacting. I would love for him to at least be nominated for an Oscar for this one, but I doubt he'll get the credit he deserves because...well, it's a low-budget sci-fi film.

And that's about all that I want to say about it: If you liked Pi or Primer, or those post-2001 films about space like Outland and Silent Running, or really science fiction film in general, you should see Moon. It plays tonight at the Egyptian this afternoon at SIFF Cinema. Director Duncan Jones will be in attendance.

UPDATED to include correct movie times and locations for today: 4:15 at SIFF Cinema.

Hello, guys! I fell off my SIFF-blogging duties for a few days there (Sasquatch), but I'm back now, and showered, and let's talk about today.

The big thing, obviously, is the Tribute to Spike Lee at the Egyptian, which includes a Q&A and a screening of his new film Passing Strange.

Of the film, Brendan Kiley writes:

Even though it played on Broadway, Passing Strange isn’t any kind of musical you’d recognize—it’s a concert with an autobiographical script and it’s transcendently awesome. Writer and musician Stew sings about his younger self, a middle-class black kid who fled L.A. for Europe. In America, an older mentor tells him, “We’re passing, like your high-yellow grandma back in the day—but we’re passing for black folks.” In Amsterdam and Berlin, he begins shedding his American baggage (the pressure to get a job, go to church, not act white, not act too black) and discovers sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll. (As well as political riots, extremist lifestyles, and German performance art.) Spike Lee saw Passing Strange and decided to film the final performance so future generations could see this sweet, sad, and tragically funny story. And the performers—Stew, his backup band, his backup actors—are fucking fantastic. Thank you, Spike Lee. Thank you, Stew.

There's plenty of other worthwhile stuff today too, including the highly-recommended Rembrandt's J'Accuse (Paul Constant: "J’Accuse resembles no other film so much as Orson Welles’ great, underrated documentary F is for Fake"); Bluebeard (Paul Constant again: "The story of Bluebeard has been put to film many times, most memorably in a 1972 Richard Burton/Raquel Welch thriller, but never has it looked as good as in Breillat’s stylized adaptation"); The Higher Force (alsoPaulConstantWTF: "way more 101 Reykjavík than Pulp Fiction, but if you like Icelandic cinema, it’s a joy from beginning to end"); and It Came from Kuchar (Christopher Frizzelle: "If you’re into film history, it’s edifying").

You've also got Moon, which seems like it might be interesting until you notice that all the raving quotes in the trailer are from Harry Knowles. Still, we'll check it out and let you know.

See you tomorrow!

Last weekend, I watched The Yes Men Fix the World at SIFF. It's the second documentary about the Yes Men, who are anti-corporate activists who speak at business conferences and pull hoaxes that satirize immoral corporate policy. I wholeheartedly confirm that David Schmader's review is right on. The thing that saves this movie from becoming a Michael Moore-style proselytizing headache is the Yes Men's commitment: They hang around long after things become awkward, and it's that Ricky Gervais-ish commitment to a joke, no matter how painful the experience becomes, that makes the movie work as a comedy.

Unfortunately, we in the theater only saw about ninety percent of the movie. The digital projection at the Neptune was beyond glitchy, skipping the picture around quite often and at times going completely black. The audience was surprisingly patient with the poor projection quality, but this is not making the case for digital projection. It's done at the festival, but The Yes Men Fix the World will probably come back to town for a week or two in the fall, and I'd advise you to see it—it works as both a comedy and as a documentary. Hopefully our local projectionists will have worked out the bugs by then.

Hello! Too much great stuff today!

I really loved Wild Field:

There’s not a lot of action on the Kazakh steppe—one of the driest, bleakest, biggest place on earth—but somehow Wild Field wrings terror, humor, and beauty from the uneasy boredom of the landscape.

Jen Graves highly recommends The Strength of Water:

Two 10-year-old Maori twins (a boy and a girl) deliver eggs for their hardworking parents every day, all over town. The landscape is what you notice, not the kids: the natural wealth of the dramatic New Zealand coastline, the relative material poverty of the people living there. You also notice the fascinating Maori traditions and language: the men touching noses as a greeting, the songs, the people who live in the mist. And then a freak accident interrupts the reverie, and the characters find themselves wrapped in a mist of grief. The details are subtle and honorable.

And Aaron Moncivaiz says Fig Trees is a definite Don't Miss:

A dense, postmodern, operatic documentary focusing mainly on the stories of two AIDS activists, Fig Trees is at once informative and artful.

David Schmader luuurved We Live in Public (umm, yes, that pic is from Sunset Boulevard—sorry, will fix):

Following her award-winning indie-rock chronicle Dig!, documentarian Ondi Timoner turns to another world-class freak show: Josh Harris, the internet artist/entrepreneur who from the mid-‘90s to the early-oughts created several visionary web projects that effectively predicted our surveillance-soaked world. Along the way, he went all kinds of crazy, and Timoner’s film sums up the man and his work brilliantly, in a documentary that’s part thriller, part art-history lesson, and totally amazing. (Winner of the Sundance Grand Jury Prize.)

Paper Heart, comedian Charlyne Yi's faux-documentary (she travels the country interviewing people about love, possibly falling in love with Michael Cera along the way), teeters on the brink of waaay-too-cute, but manages to be just regular cute. I liked it quite a bit.

There are so many great things playing today, I don't have time to write about them all. But in brief: If you missed Trimpin: The Sound of Invention yesterday, you have another chance today. Ditto Nurse.Fighter.Boy. Ditto ditto The Yes Men Fix the World. Seattle finally gets a chance to see local filmmaker David Russo's The Immaculate Conception of Little Dizzle, which screened at this year's Sundance. In archivals today, you've got the obviously great Sunset Boulevard (wrong picture again! sorry!). Tonight's midnight movie at the Egyptian is the long-awaited Norwegian Nazi/zombie flick Dead Snow.

And you guys, I know Spring Breakdown is tempting, but I'd avoid it. The thing got STANKY reviews.

Search all of our SIFF reviews, with recommendations and movie times, HERE. Have fun!