Idiosyncratic, eccentric, and unconventional? Perhaps. Enjoyable, charming, and timeless? Absolutely. This newest take on the enchanting Alice in Wonderland/Through the Looking Glass stories by Lewis Carroll is an endearing film, full of delightful characters, equal parts nostalgia and originality, and another beguiling performance from Johnny Depp. The combination of vibrant visuals and a timeless story of a seeming loss of artless childhood, the limitless power of imagination, and the wellsprings of creative life, Alice in Wonderland succeeds.

The story is known well, to say the least. Alice slips into a hole and into another world, with size-altering potions and cakes, talking rabbits, and a disappearing cat with a very large grin. In this film, Burton’s Alice returns to Underland, or Wonderland, only to think herself in another of a series of elaborate fantasies, repeatedly musing aloud that she is just dreaming. We follow her as she discovers the world of Wonderland to be all-too-real, a fascinating land of adventure where she plays the heroine. Or she’s supposed to anyway. She thinks. Maybe. Meeting the Mad Hatter (Depp) and the Queens (Helena Bonham Carter and Anne Hathaway) along the way, Alice finds herself in the midst of one fateful encounter after another. In the end, she will have to face herself and her fears and “believe in impossible things.” (Something her father did six times before breakfast, and we could all do well to learn from his example.)

That great storyteller and thinker C.S. Lewis once wrote, “Sometimes fairy tales say best what needs to be said.” In Alice’s case, what needs to be said? Well, for starters, the truth of the land of imagination. We create and inhabit and learn from the universes we call into existence, and we are hopefully better for it. Alice inhabits a world in which the impossible occurs quite frequently. We soon discover this world is no dream; it is as real as she is, and lives are at stake.

Tim Burton clearly understands the power of the imagination, that faculty of inspired creation, and in this film we are privy to his ability to transform the screen into another world, and to transport us as well. Alice is played simply and sensibly with the guileless guile of a girl coming of age by Mia Wasikows (Defiance). And with the help of faithful Burton companions Depp and Bonham Carter, the other-wordly aspects of Wonderland are magically brought to life before our eyes. Geared towards children, Burton at times leans too heavily on stereotypes here, and the finale could have used more oomph, more complexity, if not more uncertainty. On the whole, though, this film is another wonderful reprise of Alice’s enviable adventures.

This film is certainly catered to a younger audience in many ways, but, to some extent, the beauty of the story is its ability to shine through for exactly this reason. In his dedication to The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, C.S. Lewis wrote to Lucy Barfield, to whom he was Godfather, “Someday you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.” If you are old enough, then see this film. If not, wait a few years, “take it down from some upper shelf, dust it, and tell me what you think.”

Rating: 3/4 Stars

This is my one post per year (more or less) on this site that is not a review. And I get pretty excited about it.

And, without further adieu, here are my predictions (what I think will win) and my selections (what I think should win). As a caveat: I did not see all the films in FOREIGN LANGUAGE, DOC FEATURE, or DOC SHORT. I saw all the others.

My predictions are in BLUE, and my selections are in RED.

Click to enlarge.

The Coen Brothers are a truly dynamic duo. Wielding wit, charisma, and an invigorating spirit, they deftly create films in which the story often unfolds both dramatically and comically, revealing the dual nature of existence. A Serious Man tells the tragically comic story of Larry Gopnik, a professor whose life, at times both enviable and its opposite, quickly takes several turns for the worse. Joel and Ethan Coen take Larry’s life and unveil the horror lying just beneath the surface.

Larry Gopnik is Jewish, married (kind of), with a handful of rebellious teenaged kids, and he teaches physics at a nearby college. Even his subject of expertise is fraught with varying levels of uncertainty. Larry soon feels as if he has no idea what to do with his life, as his wife leaves him, his son who is supposed to be preparing for Bar Mitzvah makes purchases behind his back, and his Jewish faith is a shambles. Seeking the guidance of Jewish rabbis of increasing levels of rank, he attempts to reconcile the chaos of crisis with the constancy of his religious beliefs. The answers he receives are intentionally vague, seemingly leaving something unsaid, and to him, certainly not very helpful. He even resorts to asking his lawyer for help in what turns into a kind of therapy session – to no avail. The unknown surrounds Larry. In the end, he is forced to come face to face to with simply not having all the answers. Much easier said than done, of course.

Shot as a horror film, the Coens manage to delve deeper and deeper into the psychological horror of Larry’s all-too-normal life. Because he’s Jewish and his life seems rough, it may at times it seem like a page out of the Biblical story of Job, but A Serious Man isn’t about coming full circle. It isn’t about getting everything back that he once lost. Larry loses his grip on reality. His problems are quite normal in many respects, and, ultimately, nothing too special. His wife wants a divorce; his teenagers are healthy and stubborn; his job is secure. He hasn’t lost many things, but he has lost a sense of purpose. He’s lost the stability of stasis. He feels like he’s losing his mind. Larry may get his grip back, but Job lost every familial and material possession he had. Larry has lost a guiding sense of meaning, which more or less ebbs and flows throughout life. We feel secure, then lost, then confused, then stable. Sometimes we don’t know what we feel.

So, in some ways, this film resembles Job’s, but this isn’t a Biblical allegory. To think so would be to miss the point of the film entirely. Each person’s life is a horror story lingering below the veil of reality, and when it rises to the surface we feel the panic of uncertainty, what Camus called coming face to face with the absurdity of existence. When this happens, all feels lost, all seems to be in ruins, though that may not actually be the case. It might. But it might not.

The Coens are brilliant filmmakers. With wonderful casting and a number of fantastic performances from Michael Stuhlbarg (as Larry) and Richard Kind (as his brother), they create a horrifying cinematic experience, in which things aren’t as they seem, and certainty is just out of arm’s reach. At turns both dismal and absurd, this film takes its spot near the top of the Coen Canon, and certainly one of the best films of the year – if not the decade.

Rating: 4/4 Stars

Before anybody became somebody, they were practically a nobody. That’s the understanding, anyway, and Coco Before Chanel is an extended case-in-point. However, if it exemplifies the previous adage, it also stands testament to the power of two things, unrelated but connected: benefactors and femininity. Though “everyone must start somewhere,” it helps to have someone eventually give you money, and it may expedite that process if one is an attractive woman. This film illuminates both with grace and subtlety.

The young Gabrielle, or “Coco,” played expertly by Audrey Tautou (The Da Vinci Code), works as a seamstress. Earlier still, she lived in an orphanage. At night, Coco and her sister perform and sing at clubs. She catches the eye of a wealthy aristocrat, Étienne Balsan, a man who attempts to give her a shot at a bigger spotlight. Soon, however, he leaves for his large “castle” in the country. Coco, who is now seemingly destitute without her older sister, travels to his home and requests to stay on for a while. “A while” evolves into days, and, eventually, days into years. Creating a strong but odd relationship, Coco and Balsan seem to live happily. When Arthur ‘Boy’ Capel shows up, however, things change, and Coco’s life, as so often seems to be the case with her, will never be the same.

One might guess that a woman who would eventually become the famous “Chanel” would be a tireless worker, an indefatigable individual with an indomitable spirit, working until the job is done, trying harder and harder to achieve her dreams. According to this particular film, that is not quite the case. Anne Fontaine, the writer/director, crafts a story  that seems to depict Coco as a stubborn, at times impetuous, and all around lazy individual. She desires nothing more than “to work,” but it seems only to rid herself of the social constructions of a male dominated society, not because she is such an ideal “hard worker.” On the contrary, she customarily refuses to entertain guests, leaves her suitors and benefactors, and even declines to act in a socially acceptable manner at times.

All this being known, she still succeeded. She was a chic, quirky spirit, whose talent could not be hidden, and Tautou is brilliant, playing her with simplicity, poise, and elegance. The acting is good on all accounts, and the writing (not to mention the beautiful costumes, for which it received an Oscar nomination) complements it well. Fontaine seems to direct with great confidence, gently allowing the story to unfold, slowly but surely, as we grow with Coco, think with her, and aspire with her to autonomy, importance, and celebrity.

Ultimately, we know the ending. Many times, true stories or “Based on a True Story” stories aren’t about the ending so much as they are about the journey, the process, the path taken by a seemingly ordinary person destined for greatness. Coco Before Chanel takes the most famous name in all of fashion, Chanel, and returns to its roots, from the orphanage to the castle, from the castle to the limelight. From here, Chanel, a lowly orphan with an incredible gift, became the Queen of Fashion. This film portrays her lucidly and effectively. Even if you couldn’t care less about the world of fashion, this film, like The Devil Wears Prada, is almost certainly worth it.

Rating: 3.5/4 Stars

It’s said that the worst possible trauma a parent can experience is outliving their children, and, therefore, burying them, mourning their loss, and living out the rest of their lives with a gaping emotional wound, wrapped with new tourniquets each day, never completely healing, never fully returning to that approximation of wholeness towards which we strive. Stasis is broken, and the psychological anguish never quite subsides, like a vengeful tide bent on wreaking havoc on the unsuspecting shore. This film tells this story, replete with all the vulnerability and instability that such trauma leaves behind it. More or less one film split into two hour-long segments, Antichrist succeeds in spades for the initial half, then unfortunately devolves into a series of painful sadomasochism.

A couple loses their child while they make love (in the first of several truly pornographic sex scenes). In the midst of an orgasmic experience, their toddler son makes a fateful descent, ending whatever semblance of normalcy that may have existed for this disturbing couple. Willem Defoe plays the husband, a therapist who turns his work on his wife (played unsettlingly well by Charlotte Gainsbourg), a woman struggling with the loss of her son and, essentially, her own sanity. This story is constructed in successive chapters, each taking its name from successive levels of grief coping mechanisms. By the close of the credits, as a fox says during the film (oddly, the only anthropomorphized animal in the film), “Chaos reigns.” At times, it seems, quite literally.

The director, Lars Von Trier, was apparently struggling with bouts of severe depression during the creation of this film, and it could not be much more evident. The woman evolves from a seemingly normal individual coping with the loss of her son into a sadomasochistic being, like Jekyll permanently becoming Hyde. Von Trier creates a surreal, subtle world in which these two (and only two) characters swim through the sea of grief that has swallowed their lives. With hints of expressionism, he forms a fairly brilliant series of scenes with pitch-perfect dialogue. During the first half.

The second half of the film continues the trend of the preceding hour momentarily, before running as far from subtlety as possible, in a sequence of events that are as painfully unnatural as they are unnaturally painful, a convoluted cycle of torment and mutilation. Though almost certainly intentional, this retreat from subtlety and nuance is also a retreat from the art created in the first hour of the film, ending in blatant exhibitionism, a form of psychological and emotional public masturbation.

If the film had maintained the coherence and form of the first half, Von Trier would have created one of the best films of the year, a psychological film, with equal parts tragedy, thriller, and expressionism. Unfortunately, he takes a tragic story with fantastic performances and wonderful cinematography and twists it into an indulgent example of performance art gone horribly wrong. The excellent first half is the only aspect that makes this film worth watching; after that, it’s best to turn it off and leave the film at its best. A kind of tragedy in and of itself.

Rating: 3/4 Stars

Horrors occur all around the globe, under varying levels of spotlight beams. Some, however, deserve (to use the term pejoratively) much more exposure than they have ever received previously. One such macabre violation of dignity is the dolphin genocide taking place in Taijii, Japan, where a group sanctioned by the government is herding, trapping, and killing hundreds of dolphins every day of the year under a veil of secrecy. Led by Richard O’Barry, who trained the original Flipper dolphins, a group resembling Oceans 11 in many ways (a fact not lost on the key players in this film) takes high-tech equipment into Taijii in order to document the atrocities.

O’Barry, a lifelong dolphin lover, was actually a major participant during the initial attempts to take dolphins into captivity when he joined the crew of Flipper. He trained the dolphins and grew to love them. It is his contention, as well that of a growing number of experts in the field the world over, that dolphins are special among non-human animals for one very important reason: they are conscious. All animals have some form of consciousness, sure, but these people maintain that dolphins are conscious in a way akin to humans: more specifically, they are self-conscious. They have a sense of self, a complex emotional life, and are highly intelligent creatures. Because of this, O’Barry and others have made it their life’s goal to pursue the end of dolphin captivity and genocide.

Consciousness is an elusive concept. Self-consciousness is fairly simple to understand from the first-person point of view, but to discern whether another being is self-conscious has posed philosophical problems for a long time. For fear of solipsism, we assume that all (or at least the vast majority) of us, human beings, are conscious - and self-conscious – beings. It goes without saying that to discern whether a non-human animal is actually self-conscious might be a tricky conundrum.

One such self-consciousness “testing” method used is quite simple, really: a mirror. If, when faced with a large mirror, a given entity shows signs that they understand that the image being shown to them is, in fact, them and not another entity, then there seems to be some certainty that the entity in question is self-conscious to a certain extent. Dolphins, when put to this “test,” reveal that they are quite aware that is their image being shown back to them. O’Barry is certain, in fact, that when watching herself on TV, one of the dolphins who played Flipper was very much aware that it was herself on the screen, not another dolphin; moreover, when another dolphin was on the TV, O’Barry says he is certain she knew that too.

The Cove is a fascinating and adventurous documentary look at the world of sea life generally and dolphins (and whales) in particular. Specifically, is it wrong to kill a self-conscious creature, if that creature is non-human? We certainly think it immoral to kill another human, and we have a word for it: murder. When it’s an animal, we say it was “killed,” but rarely, if ever, do we refer to a “murdered animal.” It is this rather simple juxtaposition of the words “kill” and “murder” that elucidates the whole premise of this film. When does self-consciousness begin? Furthermore, if self-consciousness is present in non-human animals, are we ethically obligated not to kill those animals without due cause? Would that be murder?

The film seems to conclude fairly unequivocally that killing dolphins is, indeed, wrong. Whether you agree or not, there’s another, much easier, conclusion that the film makes as well: certainly you cannot watch the massacre of hundreds of dolphins on their secret footage without feeling that some form of ethical violation is taking place, something that must be stopped, regardless of your position on non-human animal consciousness.

Are there “more important” international goals to pursue? That, of course, depends on who you are. And for people like Richard O’Barry, there is little more important in life than pursuing what you feel to be your calling. It is his calling, and he pleads with the viewer as well, to save dolphins from the butchery inflicted on them year round. The fate of dolphins everywhere rests on his decision, and he is urging the viewer to take part.

Rating: 3.5/4 Stars

Alice Sebold wrote a gripping, affecting novel about a young girl whose life is ended far too soon by a man with a devastating and interminable itch: he rapes and murders young girls. Peter Jackson, whose extensive resume includes the epic Lord of the Rings trilogy, is an adept director, a man with visions of legendary proportions, a film artist who pulls out all the stops. This is why it’s so difficult to fathom how and why The Lovely Bones is such a poor, disappointing film.

A young girl, Susie Salmon (Saoirse Ronan),”like the fish,” is on her way home from school when George Harvey (Stanley Tucci) cunningly intercepts her and proceeds to both rape and murder her. Her parents, Abigal and Jack (played respectively by Rachel Weisz and Mark Wahlberg), begin the grueling process of both looking for her and grieving her loss. Susie, meanwhile, is discovering her own new place in the world. Or, rather, in another world altogether: the place in between heaven and earth. Jack and Abigail deal with her death very differently; Abigail eventually leaves the family, while Jack tirelessly searches out her killer. The emotional trauma devastates the family, which would be entirely dismal if it weren’t for the comic relief of Abigail’s mother (Susan Sarandon).

Jackson attempts to tell the story by creating different worlds for each of the major players. A worthy goal that is very poorly executed. The world of Jack is by far the most well told, as we are thrust into the world of a father whose undying love (played actually quite well by Wahlberg) won’t let his daughter’s memory go gently away into that good night. The mother’s story is essentially given the montage treatment, and, concomitantly, she is all but forgotten. Harvey’s story is fashioned fairly well, but it has the distinct feel of a low-budget crime scene reenactment at times, devolving, for a second here and there, into an almost comical presentation of the wretched and plagued man that he is. However, that being said, the rape scene is actually very well done, tasteful and minimalistic.

Lastly, the heaven (or the “in-between place”) scenes are horrendous. One would expect nothing but the most incredible, dazzling CG and special effects from the director of the Lord of the Rings films, but these scenes are nothing but laughable. We want to care strongly for Susie, as she deals with the constant thought of her family, of their attempt to come to grips with her loss in their personal ways, and of her own journey to the other side. Unfortunately, we cannot. Some of the special effects seem to come straight out of an earlier era, reminiscent of a time when we forgave much of what we saw in terms of verisimilitude, because we knew that they were trying their hardest, and the technology just wasn’t quite there yet. In all honesty, the computer graphics from Ghostbusters looks better than this film. At times, much better.

Fortunately, the acting is pretty good all across the board; Tucci, in particular, is extremely good. He seems like any man we might meet next door, though he’s struggling with a wretched urge. Ronan is actually pretty good despite the absurd green screen treatment. And Sarandon is quite possibly one of the film’s better halves (if you will) – in fact, if it weren’t for the acting, this film would be utterly abysmal. All in all, the writing isn’t horrible, but it’s overshadowed so strongly by the poor directing and graphics choices that it’s barely noticeable (surprising when you consider that Fran Walsh and Jackson worked together on all three Lord of the Rings).

Ultimately, this is yet another poignant, moving story poorly told. The tragic reality of the story, of course, is that this happens all the time – girls are abducted and abused, sometimes never to be seen again by their families or the light of day, and the lives of all involved are forever altered. This comes through despite the film’s gross incompetence (a testament to Sebold, in my opinion). In the end, this film is, sadly, not worth watching. There are some very suspenseful moments and a few touching scenes, but, overall, this film fails in so many ways that it becomes an effort not to walk out of the theatre, get your money back, walk to the nearest book store, and buy the novel, in an effort to hear the story told well. Save your time and money. Or, rather, spend it on the book.

Rating: 2/4 Stars

Based on the television series of the same name, Edge of Darkness is a return to the screen both of this particular story, and of a particularly reclusive actor as of late, Mel Gibson. Mel’s return is also Martin Campbell’s return to the story, as he also directed the TV series back in the 1980’s. Reminiscent of Taken, Edge of Darkness delivers on its promises: action, suspense, an entertaining and involving story, and, most importantly, Mel’s return to this side of the camera.

A Boston cop, Thomas Craven (Mel), is enjoying having his daughter home, whom he hasn’t spent much time with since she left for MIT. When she begins to show volatile signs of sickness, they head to the car. But their trip is cut short. Craven is forced to deal with the gruesome loss of his daughter while seeking out the perpetrators and bringing them to justice. His hunt quickly leads him down an unforeseen trail, developing into an altogether different mystery than he had ever imagined. An untold number of bodies, slippery government officials, and one man with nothing to lose.

This film is fairly riveting from start to finish. Campbell (Casino Royale) knows how build suspense and intrigue, and, wielding a story he knows inside and out, deftly creates a very entertaining movie. Gibson brings himself to the film, and we soon find out that that’s more than enough. He’s a capable actor with years of experience, and this film allows him to return to the screen with everything we’ve come to love about him, a strong voice, an evasive charm, and a powerful, reckoning presence.

Gibson is by far the most enjoyable performance, but the supporting cast also do quite well: Ray Winstone, Danny Huston, Jay Sanders, Denis O’Hare. Possibly unfamiliar names, but faces we certainly recognize, these actors do a more than adequate job. Winstone, in particular, plays an unequivocally equivocal character, Jedburgh, a man whose life has been spent not only riding the fence, but serving both sides equally, a middle man and a mole simultaneously, and he plays him deftly. All the characters lead duplicitous lives, which eventually unravel into an “unsurvivable” nightmare, and Craven is there to make sure it stays that way.

Edge of Darkness doesn’t try to be this year’s Taken, and it doesn’t need to. This film is a competent suspense film, with a capable cast, a confident director, and a leading man who is more than comfortable getting back in the saddle. Suspenseful films don’t need to be perfect to be entertaining, and this one is certainly a case in point. It’s often messy, the characters seem a bit two-dimensional, the writing is laughably overwrought at times, and there are loose ends that dangle even as the credits roll, but, despite all this, it succeeds. If you’re looking for an engaging suspense film, this one is almost certain to satisfy.

Rating: 2.5/4 Stars

A film set in the 30’s in France, Faubourg 36, or Paris 36, feels like a film actually made in the 30’s. The costumes and the outdoor sets have a contrived artificiality to them, the whole town seems within arm’s reach, and the quality of the shots are more often than not reassuringly melodramatic, in a way we’ve come to love, reminiscent of Casablanca, of a bygone era. The whole film has an endearing quality, with plenty of highs and lows, only enhanced by being a kind of musical (though it never really feels too much like one). Great songs (one receiving an Oscar nomination), nice voices, a very likable cast, and an enjoyable story make this one a success.

In 1936, the Chansonia, a theatre in Parisian district goes under (“faubourg” means “suburb” in French). All jobs are lost: the cast, the crew, everyone involved. A shrewd, dictatorial businessman, Galapiat takes over, and the theatre is shut down. As claims of Fascism and threats of strikes hit the airwaves and the streets, one man, Pigoil, decides to lead the old clan in taking back the Chansonia, leading them on an unending quest to restore themselves and the theatre to greatness.

Pigoil is quick-tempered, impetuous, selfish, and mostly very ignorant. His only redeeming qualities are his best: he’s sincere, and he means well. When Douce shows up, the theatre has found its savior. At least temporarily. Through a series of events, Pigoil, Milous, Jacky, and the rest have their work cut out for them, if they want to get the theatre, and their lives, back on track.

Christophe Barratier directs this musical film, and he does so with aplomb. He seems to attempt to recreate the quality of the Hollywood melodramas from the Golden Age: larger than life personalities, smoking in profile on rooftops, the Eiffel Tower in the distance, and all while confessing ones love to the new girl in town, only to be followed up by a song and dance number. It may sound overly sentimental or even kitschy, but Barratier seems fully aware of what he’s doing at all times, and as a result, the film is truly delightful.

Taking the black and whites from classic Hollywood as its starting (and continual reference) point, Paris 36 ultimately succeeds by creating a cast of charming characters whose lives have taken a turn for the worse. The winsome world of the characters is set against the backdrop of a volatile political environment, adding to the tension of the characters constant frustrations. In the end, we have a feeling for what might happen, but we don’t exactly know how we’ll get there, and in this one, style is really what it’s all about.

Rating: 3.5/4 Stars

Kavi (US, India)

This film is about an eponymous boy (named…Kavi) who lives in India, working as the modern day equivalent of a slave with his parents. He longs to play cricket and go to school, but his life’s circumstances, and those of his parents, have essentially proscribed it. His desire for freedom begins to effect his productivity, and his draconian boss takes notice. Kavi must choose between his wretched past, the life that he knows and has grown into, and the unknown, a future of which may or may not include cricket, school, or even his parents. The cinematography is much better than the acting, or the writing for that matter – both of which are adequate, but nothing to write home about.

The New Tenants (US, Denmark)

When a couple moves into a new apartment building, they get far more than they bargained for, including, but not limited to, a quirky old woman, a disgruntled husband, a series of shootings, death threats, and hidden heroin. The directing is clear, intentional, and enhances the comically tragic atmosphere that these two have unwittingly entered. The acting is pretty good, though it leaves something to be desired at times. The characters are fleshed out well, as we both laugh and empathize with this bewildered couple in a frightening – and hilarious – environment.

The Door (Ireland)

A man appears to be on the run in a barren landscape. We know nothing about him. The authorities certainly seem to be after him, or after a certain group of people, of which he is one. Without revealing too much of the plot, suffice it to say that he is on the run, people are after him, and his mission concerns his family. A deep, emotional, haunting film about one’s man relationship with his family, and the lengths he will go for them. Obscured by an intentional ambiguity, the film tells a story we recognize without truly knowing much about – at least at first glance. Great cinematography, combined with a compelling story and several honest performances, makes this one the best of the lot.

Miracle Fish (Australia)

It’s a day much like any other, and a young boy is going to school. Except that it isn’t a day exactly like any other – it’s his birthday, and it just might save his life. His parents packed him a special lunch, including a “toy” of sorts called the Miracle Fish. Lying flat on one’s palm, the fish is a kind of mood ring, with a little more potency. He takes a nap in the infirmary, and, upon waking, discovers the school to be quite unlike the one in which he fell asleep. Disturbing and unnerving, the film follows the boy’s short journey through the day, with very good direction and a handful of good performances.

Instead of Abracadabra (Sweden)

An awkward guy in his twenties (the kind you’d expect to see at a larping tournament) still living at home with his parents wants to pursue his passion: magic. His major flaw: he can’t help but mess up his most dangerous tricks. After an enormous misstep puts his Mom in the hospital, he meets his neighbor, a very attractive Girl Next Door. After arranging to perform for her at a children’s birthday party, he bites off more than he may be able to chew when he invites her to his father’s sixtieth birthday, where will he perform for what may be the last time. Very funny at times, this quirky comedy leaves us guessing in all the right places. It feels fairly “Indie” throughout, with a somewhat bizarre premise and lovable, idiosyncratic characters, whose messed up lives are the source of unending mockery.