

Zowie lost her sister and is falling down on the job of life. Can’t love. Won’t go out. Refuses to work properly. But she stumbles upon an accidental superpower: when she falls, when she feels pain â gravity bends so that she can see her sister again. However, the space-time-continuum giveth, the space-time-continuum taketh away, and the next time she hurts, her sister is gone. Frustrated and depleted, Zowie is torn between moving on or withering on the vine. So, in a whiskey-fueled dream-state, she makes a choice: to fall one last time. On purpose.
Grief is a personal journey. When your person gets ripped from your orbit, all bets are off. “Coping” can mean destructive behavior in the form of alcohol, binge eating, even self-harm. Or, grief can manifest itself into the most creative outlets. In Zowie’s case, pain and darkness are where she’s become comfortable. It’s also where her sister appears to her, bringing her momentary joy. In Klutz, Zowie must learn to evolve within her preconceived notions of sadness.
Grief has no timeline. No one can tell you how to process it. It’s not their place. Klutz manages to pull you into Zowie’s emotional orbit. The dialogue is dynamic and thoughtful, at times mired in anguish, while others were playfully silly. I was lucky enough to watch Klutz three times, catching more and more cleverly repeated images each viewing. I adored this short on a personal level. As someone who has lost one of my people, I lived inside this narrative. Klutz is relatable and poetic. It’s a beautifully insightful little film.
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Runtime:14 minutes
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Language:English
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Country:United States
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Premiere:NEW YORK Premiere
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Note:Death
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Director:Michelle Bossy
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Screenwriter:Elizabeth Narciso
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Producer:Malka Wallick, Mara Kassin, Howard Wallick & Freda Rosenfeld, David Selden & Julie Wallick, Elizabeth Narciso, Scott & Susan Shay
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Cast:Malka Wallick, Mara Kassin, Sanjit De Silva, Geneva Carr, Angel Desai, Wai Ching Ho, Florencia Lozano, Geoffrey Owens


IDA RED
Sofia Hublitz
“Traditional” relationships structures were created by, well, who knows. Love is weird and complicated, no matter how hard we try. We’re only human. We have urges that are as basic as they come. Anyone who claims to not be attracted to a person outside of their monogamous relationship is a liar. Love is messy and ever-evolving, and writer-director Hannah Marks gets that. Marks popped onto my radar with
The environmental inevitability of our planet is the backdrop of Finch. Tom Hanks plays the titular role. He’s a scientist surviving with his dog and his rover pet Dewey. His goal is to create a robot with the capabilities of protecting Goodyear when he passes on. This rag-tag crew attempts to outrun a superstorm by escaping St. Louis to San Francisco in a 1980s RV. Finch becomes a hilarious and heartwarming road movie you never saw coming.
Caleb Landry Jones as Jeff is brilliant. His performance has a childlike quality that melts your heart. The script smartly allows Jones to explore every human emotion for the first time. The savant aspect combined with its innocence reminded me of my five-year-old autistic son. The linear and literal way of expression was something so familiar. Jones’s energy will undoubtedly speak to every single parent. His physical performance is through motion capture, and it alone is award-worthy. Hanks and Jones’ chemistry is the stuff of movie magic.
In most true crime stories, the mystery of “what really happened” carries the narrative. Viewers are invited to reconstruct timelines and decipher motives, then try and solve the crime simultaneously with the professional investigators. Alice is Still Dead turns that formula on its head. For instance, what if there is a brutal murder, but the facts– while devastating– are relatively straightforward? What if the central protagonist is tragically incidental to the killer’s motive? What if the police and justice system function exactly as society intends them to do? This film illustrates that even without the standard narrative hooks of true crime, a shocking senseless death is still a story. There is still a family that must find a way to carry on despite their grief and try to find contentment with the limits of justice.

Tin Can


As
The palpable sadness of 
Mimi Kuzyk
Performances across the board are phenomenal.
Giant Bear (*shown alongside Don’t Say Its Name)
The Death Doula
Watershed
Creepy Bits- Chapter 1- “Baby Face”
Narcoleap: S2
GHOST- A Primitive Evolution
Midnight Lunch Break
The Revenge of the Snowflakes
We All Dream (*being shown with Motherly at 9 pm this evening)
Disquietude (screening with Tin Can Sunday night at 11:30 pm.)

Two kickass female leads in one film? Thank you. The cast generally consists of more women, and I am not complaining. It’s inspiring to watch these actresses communicate with each other. Leads, 

Sisters With Transistors beautifully brings to life a niche history that you didn’t know you were missing but will surely recognize. The film seamlessly weaves together the personal stories of innovative composers like Clara Rockmore, Daphne Oram, Bebe Barron, Pauline Oliveros, and Suzanne Ciani through live performances, archival footage, and visual interpretations of their music. Some pieces are moody and atmospheric; others are challenging and experimental. Yet, all of them reverberate with unique genius, creativity, and passion. The overall effect is a captivating documentary on an unsung history that is endlessly engaging to watch.




Fantasy, folklore, and bloody horror are on full display in this unique animated film. It’s a story of neverending violence and rule. The Spine Of Night is a glorious retelling of past, present, and inevitable futures, as knowledge, magic, and power are on the line. The cast is extraordinary. Two performances, in particular, stand out in my mind. As The Guardian,
The Spine Of Night

Amy Smart
Ed in Kansas has an elaborate estate titled “Subterra Castle”. Above ground, it appears to be a menagerie of land gardens with 
There are minor continuity issues. Costumes needed to refresh for characters in multiple scenes and we see some of the strangest looking culinary school food prep, but that does not lessen the storytelling. The overall arc of the film remains engrossing. Though, I would suggest a minimum 15 minute trim. While the pacing could use some work, it’s a solid treatment for an expanded series.
Masao is coming to terms with his mortality in a quietly epic fashion. They say your life flashes before your eyes when you are about to die. In Masao’s case, we are a party to the type of man he was years ago. He is ushered into death by the ghost of his wife Grace, who takes him on a journey through time. There is a bit of a Christmas Carol quality, as Grace brings him into the memories of different and defining times. We come to learn his shortcomings, self-sabotage, doubt, adoration for his wife, and finally, acceptance of his fate. 

The cinematography is gorgeous. The setting, the costumes, everything pops. The main set is magical. The walls adorned with landscape paintings, the massive rooms filled with antique furnishings, and the ceilings boast curious murals. The score is perfectly whimsical. The stunning fx makeup is never too terrifying for its intended audience. 
Each segment of the film has a very different tone. The early scenes on the farm (where, years earlier, Josiah’s wife mysteriously committed suicide) are filled with eerie unease. Josiah and Thomas’ relationship is tense and cold. It feels very much like a haunted house film. I feel like Robert Patrick has been playing supremely creepy characters for my whole lifetime – he slips into these roles without even trying. There’s a scene where Josiah gives Thomas some fatherly advice that is some of Patrick’s most squirm-inducing work to date.
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