Welcome to another nutritious edition of The (Mostly) Indie Film Calendar, a weekly roundup of what's happening beyond the multiplexes in this great land of ours. If you know of something cool going on where you live -- a small film festival, retrospective, midnight movies, etc. -- let me know! You can find me at Eric.Snider (at) Weblogsinc (dot) com.

INDIE THEATRICAL RELEASES

• Frontiere(s) is a French horror flick whose history is almost as torturous as its content. It was supposed to be part of the After Dark series last fall, but its NC-17 rating made that impossible due to the contract that the After Dark people had with the theatrical venues. So now it's basically going straight to DVD -- but first it's being deposited in a handful of theaters today in New York, L.A., Denver, Seattle, Philly, Austin, and maybe a few other places. Cinematical's Scott Weinberg gave it a mixed review at Toronto last year.

• The Fall: Remember The Cell, that freaky Jennifer Lopez movie from 2000? I know I do! (I never forget a movie with a vivisected horse.) The director, Tarsem Singh, is back now with The Fall, a visually stunning fable where a man in a hospital tells a little girl a story, and that story is craaaazy. Opens in New York and L.A. today.

More indie releases and a city-by-city list of cool events after the jump....

With Battle for Haditha, British documentarian Nick Broomfield brandishes his verité techniques for a fictional recreation of the November 2005 killing of 24 Iraqi civilians by U.S. Marines. Aspiring to be a modern Battle of Algiers, the film falls far short of that lofty goal, hawking standard-issue characterizations and leaden cause-effect analysis to humdrum effect.

To be sure, Broomfield generates palpable you-are-there immediacy, especially during the final act, when his camera's close proximity to its subjects (American and Iraqi alike) amplifies the mounting mania and fury that's been simmering for the prior hour. Such intensity, however, doesn't come equipped with matching insightfulness, as the depictions of its various players - marines, everyday citizens, and insurgents - are fashioned after now-familiar, simplistic psychological molds and action-reaction dynamics.

The titles that will probably get the biggest play this week are Todd Haynes' I'm Not There, the indie auteur's take on Bob Dylan that inspired spirited critical debate, and Alejandro Monteverde's romantic drama Bella, which seemed to come out of nowhere to become an audience favorite, playing in theaters for months. Both hit DVD today; I'm Not There is packed with an audio commentary with Haynes, deleted scenes, featurettes, audition tapes, gag reel and more, while Bella has an audio commentary by the director, two featurettes and a music video.

Jess Weixler stars in Mitchell Lichtenstein's Teeth, which inspired no fewer than three reviews here at Cinematical: Scott Weinberg, Kim Voynar and Nick Schager. If that's not enough to lure you in, it's about vagina dentata! Read the reviews to learn more -- each of our reviewers focused on something different that appealed or repelled. The DVD includes an audio commentary by the director, deleted scenes, outtakes and behind the scenes footage.

As a mother of five, Kim Voynar presented a very personal perspective on Abby Ebstein's doc, The Business of Being Born, featuring Ricki Lake. Kim wrote in part: "Epstein does a thorough job of dissecting the cold, hard facts about the history of modern childbirth." Two featurettes are included on the DVD: one takes the viewer behind the scenes, and the other follows up with what happened to the participants.

Big budget Iron Man racking up big box office? Not a shock. The latest from Harmony Korine (Gummo, Julian Donkey-Boy) topping the indie box office chart? That's a surprise. Mister Lonely (IFC Films) only opened at one theater in Manhattan, but it took in $19,100 for the highest per-screen average among indies this weekend, according to estimates compiled by Box Office Mojo. Diego Luna plays a Michael Jackson impersonator; Samantha Morton, Denis Levant and filmmaker Werner Herzog also star. Our own Jeffrey M. Anderson wrote: "Though Mister Lonely seems sweeter and more mainstream than Korine's other films, it still has that sense of randomness, of pathetic luck and habit and wisdom all combining to make up a life, or a collision of lives."

David Mamet's Redbelt (Sony Classics) pulled in $11,433 per screen at six locations. Chiwitel Ejiofor stars as the honorable owner of a Jiu-jitsu studio who is drawn into the world of "pay-per-view mixed martial arts," as Cinematical's James Rocchi described it. He did not feel the film matched the writer/director's best work; "still, even minor Mamet can be a source of major satisfaction, especially with an actor as compelling as Ejiofor in the lead."

Son of Rambow (Paramount Vantage) averaged $10,500 each at five theaters. Garth Jennings' delightful kids' adventure follows two boys as they create their own action movie epic featuring John Rambo. James Rocchi called it "a brilliant celebration of the exuberance and thrill of bad storytelling, of making art, of having dreams."

With the rise of cheap digital video, some might claim that we're in a Golden Age of documentaries, except for the fact that most documentary filmmakers aren't really filmmakers. They copy a basic template over and over again, assembling footage rather than making a movie. Of course, some of this may qualify as great journalism: the 2003 film Blind Spot: Hitler's Secretary, for example, or last year's No End in Sight. But very few understand how to combine filmmaking and reporting, how to make the story speak on a personal level. For my money, then, Errol Morris is the greatest living documentary filmmaker. As his reputation has risen -- he went from a guy who couldn't get arrested at the Oscars to a guy who actually won one -- his films have become more like events, like a story you can't possibly miss from a reporter you know and trust. (He has become like a Walter Cronkite or an Edward R. Murrow of the documentary set.)

Morris' Standard Operating Procedure screened this week at the 51st San Francisco International Film Festival, where Morris received the festival's Persistence of Vision award. The new film can be seen as the third in a trilogy of Morris' war films, with Mr. Death: The Rise and Fall of Fred A. Leuchter, Jr. (1999) taking on World War II and The Fog of War: Eleven Lessons from the Life of Robert S. McNamara (2003) examining Vietnam. This one stumbles right into the current war in Iraq, and stares right into the face of the Abu Ghraib prison controversy. Of course, this story was extensively covered on the TV news and people have already seen the gruesome photographs, but Morris slows down the story a bit, taking a more careful look after the fact (many of his interview subjects have finished serving their jail time).

It consistently amazes me that, despite all the stuff we complain about living here in the United States, that we still have it so much better than most of the other countries on the planet. We're so used to our freedoms that any perceived infringement on them seems like an affront. But imagine if you lived in Iran, where all you're craving is more information than the government-run TV stations are giving you. Satellite dishes, though, are illegal, mainly because of programming that the government thinks is immoral. Many internet sites, especially those that are in opposition to the fundamentalist Muslim government, are blocked. Western music and movies are banned. How would you deal with all the restrictions?

That topic is examined in Head Wind, a fascinating documentary from Iranian filmmaker Mohammad Rasoulof. In the film, he shows that Iranians are starving for information and entertainment, and in this digital age, the government, as hard as they try to, is having a hard time stopping the tide.

When I sat down to watch the excellent documentary Head Wind (review coming soon), I didn't realize that I'd be subjected to the mental torture that was the short called Beginning Filmmaking. I don't think the rest of the sparse crowd expected to see the short, either, because we all kept asking each other in very loud voices, "Why aren't we seeing Head Wind?" and "Why the hell doesn't this guy leave his kid alone?"

In this short, filmmaker Jay Rosenblatt chronicles a year of trying to teach his four-year-old daughter Ella how to become a filmmaker herself, based on something she babbled when she was eighteen months old. He even goes so far as getting Ella a brand new camcorder for her fourth birthday.

Did I say she was four? Well, I can't say that enough, because throughout the 23 mind-numbing minutes of this film, Rosenblatt tries to teach Ella how to be an auteur, giving her lessons in composition, focus, light, and story. He's talking to her like she's an NYU film student, and all she wants to do is play with her toys and flick boogers (well, she doesn't do that last thing on camera, but don't most kids that age do that?).

While it might sound somewhat cheesy, I had just as much fun watching seniors dance to hip-hop music than I did watching Iron Man over the weekend. Seriously. Of course, they're two completely different films -- one is a mega Hollywood blockbuster with loads of special effects, while the other is a sweet documentary about older folks who refuse to let age keep them down. And yet, both have a lot in common; mainly, that each film doesn't pretend it's something it's not. Gotta Dance is not out to mock these folks for wanting to add a little hip-hop to their lives; this documentary exists to celebrate that fact and invite us along for their wild ride.

Essentially, the New Jersey Nets basketball team came up with a PR stunt that includes forming a hip-hop dance crew made up entirely of senior citizens (or folks over the age of 60). From day one of auditions, cameras are allowed backstage to document this entire process -- which includes choosing the team, learning the different routines (with help from the current crop of Nets dancers) and performing them in front of live audiences during halftime at six Nets games. The cynical side of me kinda feels this whole documentary was dreamt up by the Nets organization in an attempt to get them some more good press. Regardless of those original intentions, Gotta Dance is still a fun film for the entire family.

The HBO-produced documentary film Baghdad High offers a fairly basic yet intriguing enough premise: The filmmakers gave video cameras to four Iraqi high school students and asked them to simply record as much of their "normal life" as possible. (I'm of the opinion that any time you give a teenager a camera, you're getting everything BUT "normal life," but obviously I'm not the first to claim that the act of recording something instantly obliterates "normalcy.") The point here seems to be that ... hey, you know what? Aside from the fact that they live very far away in a country that's going through some terrible problems these days, these teenagers are a whole lot like ... our teenagers! Wow, how shocking is that?!?!?

What's most interesting about these kids is that, despite the fact that they all live in Iraq, they also come from very different religious backgrounds -- and yet they're still friends! (Hope for the future sometimes comes in small packages, I suppose.) All four of the boys are perfectly charming and entirely typical: They whine about homework, they stress over studies, they gripe about being bored, they argue with their parents, and they do all the stuff that your favorite teens do: Video games, pop music, sports, rough-housing, etc. So far all its admirable intentions, the simple truth is that Baghdad High makes a very good point about the similarities of human nature (especially where teens are concerned), but then it just sort of ... keeps making the same point over and over.

Cinematical has just received this super-awesome poster for Guy Maddin's latest film and docu-fantasia, My Winnipeg (click on the image to enlarge). After sad music and branded brains, Guy was asked to make a doc about his hometown. Of course, for Maddin that meant a blending of documentary and fantasy. Grabbing Darcy Fehr, who also played "Guy Maddin" in Cowards Bend the Knee, and B-movie star Ann Savage (who plays his mother), Guy put his fictional self into his documentary and journeyed through a snowy world of strange public stories and even stranger private stories -- there's rug-straightening, Eatons issues, fires, hockey, and more.

My Winnipeg was one of my favorite films from TIFF last year, and I implore you to give it a chance. Guy Maddin knows how to find the humor in every situation, and present it in a way that is unique, stunning, enjoyable, and inspiring.

Unfortunately, I don't have a release date to share, although the film's website says that it will open at the IFC Center on June 13, as well as On Demand, before rolling out to more cities in the following weeks.

In Bigger, Stronger, Faster, a big hit at the Sundance Film Festival earlier this year, documentarian Christopher Bell takes a hard look at steroid culture and the bad rap it gets from mainstream America, tackling the Western obsession with body image. Clocking in just under two hours, Bell's sprawling overview deals with the impact of 1980's pop culture icons like Arnold Schwarzenegger and Sylvester Stallone, then dives into the gritty details of steroid usage in sports and the recent congressional hearings where baseball players were reprimanded on national television.

Bell doesn't view the issue in black-and-white terms: His own brothers, featured in the film, continually use steroids to enhance their bodybuilding careers. Contrasting the personal with the political, Bigger, Stronger, Faster diagnoses a distinctly American malady. Cinematical spoke with Bell last week in New York, where Bigger, Stronger, Faster has been screening at the Tribeca Film Festival. The movie opens May 30.

Cinematical: The movie tackles a major issue that many Americans have strong opinions about, but it also has a personal component because of your family's story. What's it been like facing the growing public awareness of the film?

Christopher Bell: It's so rewarding to hear, "Hey, you made a good movie. Thanks for telling the truth." We haven't really been criticized or attacked by anybody. There was one woman at Sundance who really upset about 'roid rage, saying that we glossed over it. I think we actually explained it pretty well.

Sturla Gunnarsson introducing Air India 182.

Last year was the easy selection of Hot Docs. I got to see a ton of films, and most of them were pretty damned uplifting. I laughed at the sheer awesomeness of Billy the Kid, cheered for Girls Rock!, got a huge craving for tea with All in This Tea, got some art on with A Walk Into the Sea, gaped at Seven Dumpsters and a Corpse, and was in awe of Jessica Yu's Protagonist.

It wasn't a smile fest this year. This time around, the theme was death, tragedy, and all sorts of seriousness. Most of them were pretty damn good, but it's been an exhausting week and a half seeing these films, thinking about them, and then writing about them. I still wish scheduling had permitted me to dip into the worlds of Wesley Willis and Kathy Acker, and some of the other docs I was itching to see. I have a feeling they would've helped matters a little.

We always champion the documentaries that do their best to separate emotion from filmmaking. While we recognize that a documentary can never be completely unbiased, we praise the films in which a hard-hitting subject can resonate without the director's emotions overtly influencing the portrayal. But I would argue that sometimes that skewed perspective is not only necessary, but required. With Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father, Kurt Kuenne bares his heart and soul. He shows his biased and emotional viewpoint, and that pulls the film out of the realms of the normal documentary and into something infinitely more memorable and inspiring.

*Note: Readers have commented that IMDb has spoilers, so check it out at your own risk!

As Erik Davis noted in his review earlier this year from Slamdance, Dear Zachary is a film to go into with as little knowledge of the story as possible, so like him, I'm continuing the review after the jump. That being said, what follows definitely isn't a spoilerfest. I will remain tight-lipped on many of the twists and turns that the film takes, so if you don't mind learning the basic story, continue on.

I couldn't get to any of the press screenings for Man on Wire, so I decided to get on a Rush Ticket line and (gasp!) actually pay to get into a public screening. I was third on line, and I thought I was in good shape. I mean, it was 4:45 on a Tuesday; who was going to see a documentary about the guy who walked a tightrope between the Twin Towers almost thirty-five years ago?

Turns out that people in New York aren't as busy as you think, since the screening was packed to capacity. But they were in for a good show, as this documentary combined archival footage, interviews, and appropriately cheesy reenactments to tell the story of how in 1974, Philippe Petit, a French juggler and tightrope walker, managed to sneak a crew and a bunch of equipment to the top of the World Trade Center, extend a tightrope between towers, and walk across without a net.

"When I look at JJ, it makes me believe in the possibility of redemption."

Redemption. Reversals. Grey area. These are the things that make the idea of a binary, black and white life so very flawed. There is a certain comfort in the thought of a world that is cut and dry and free from confusion, but it is something we can never achieve. In between each yes and no, in between each bit of good and bad, there is grey area and the possibility for change. But unless we are faced with the wonderful shades of life that lie between, it's easy to dismiss them. However, it wasn't so easy for the pro-death penalty man who uttered the phrase above, and the many others in Chicago who were shocked to discover that their beloved poet and church member JJ Jameson was also Norman Porter -- a man convicted of two murders who had escaped from prison twenty years earlier.