Near the end of last week, Defamer spread the rumor that Picturehouse, once the indie arm of New Line Cinema and currently dangling from the edge of the hulking entity known as Warner Bros., has its days numbered. Now that New Line is history and Warners, like many studios, has faced increasing cutbacks, it may give short shrift to the shingles responsible for handling artier fare. Along with Picturehouse, this also includes Warner Independent Pictures, whose recent release slate includes David Gordon Green's magnificent Snow Angels.

Defamer suggested that Picturehouse president Bob Berney might wind up at WIP or head up a new, currently anonymous company. On Friday, Variety's Anne Thompson put it in more coherent terms: It appears quite likely that WIP and Picturehouse will merge together as a single company, with current WIP president Polly Cohen working alongside Berney. Whatever happens, let's just hope that the final result still leaves room for the sharp selection of independent and foreign titles that Picturehouse has handled since its birth three years ago. Defamer points out that Marion Cotillard's unexpected Oscar win for La Vie en Rose matters less than the flop of Run, Fatboy, Run, while the John Simpson-directed horror film Amusement might get dumped on DVD. It was just last year, however, that the company helped edgy fare like The Orphanage and Rocket Science get the sort of release most studios would never try. Let's hope that bravery lives on, somewhere.

Today is the semi-official start of the Summer Blockbuster Season, but don't despair! The (Mostly) Indie Film Calendar is here to fill you in on cool stuff happening outside the multiplexes in the coming week -- the perfect antidote to mainstream ennui. If you know of something interesting going on near you -- retrospectives, special screenings, etc. -- please let me know! Point your e-mail thingee at Eric.Snider@Weblogsinc.com and I'll put it on the calendar.

INDIE THEATRICAL RELEASES

• I don't know if famed critic-hater David Mamet still counts as "independent," but I'm including his new film, Redbelt, here just in case. It's a heady drama about a martial-arts instructor who gets tangled up with a Hollywood film shoot, a misfired policeman's gun, and several other things. ME LIKEY. Opens today on a few screens in New York and L.A.

• Son of Rambow was, hands down, the best film I saw at Sundance last year. It was snatched up by Paramount Vantage, which for some reason sat on it until now. It's a funny, creative, and sweet story about two British kids in the mid-'80s who film their own homemade version of First Blood (aka Rambo I). Cinematical's James Rocchi reviewed it at Sundance 2007 and loved it too, in case my word isn't good enough for you. It's in a few theaters today, with more to come.
  

After the jump, more indie releases in theaters, and a list of special events happening around the country....

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.

"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.

Sorry, ASFR (alt.sex.fetish.robot) fans, this isn't a story of robot love. Mechanical Love has a more humanist approach, tapping not into the sexual world of Real Dolls and non-human sexual outlets, but rather the desire and need for companionship.

Phie Ambo's Mechanical Love begins by noting that soon the elderly will outnumber children for the first time in human history. Obviously, this leads to questions about how these people will be cared for -- and I don't just mean how they will get fed and provided shelter, but also who will give them actual care and attention. The older generations already have a limited number of ways to get personal interaction, even though it is something that is necessary to continue their drive to live. In response to these changes and concerns, there are engineers like Professor Ishiguro who are developing robots not for work or sex, but for human companionship.

I said goodbye to Urbana Sunday, after a fun-filled time at the 10th annual Ebertfest. Saturday's schedule was packed with a marvelously diverse slate of films, starting off with Ang Lee's Hulk. Now, I am admittedly not a comic geek, and I like smart, artsy films, which is probably why I'm in the minority in enjoying Lee's take on the Hulk story.

I've never understood the hate for this film; there are some great shots in the film and it's artistically beautiful. Plus, I like how Lee explores the father-son and anger issues underlying the origin story in the film. The audience at Ebertfest, at least, was very enthusiastic in their response to Lee's film; it may well have been the most positive audiene reception he's had for Hulk since its inception.

Here are a few pics from the fest, more after the jump ...

I missed out on the first film of yesterday's slate, Shotgun Stories by Jeff Nichols, because I wanted to get my first dispatch up before I left the hotel for the day. By the time I made it over to the Virginia Theater and found parking (a feat almost as difficult as finding parking in New York City -- okay, not quite, but it is a bit of a challenge) the screening had started already.

Fortunately, I've seen the film already on a screener, and though I would have liked to have seen it on a big screen, I can tell you that this tale of brothers in rural Arkansas coming to terms with the death of their abusive father is an excellent little indie film, and very deserving of the Independent Spirit Award it won earlier this year. Hanging out outside the theater throughout the day, I kept hearing fest folks talking about this film and how much they loved it, and I'm glad Roger added it to this year's program.

A documentary always needs a skillful hand and eye to bring it together, otherwise the subject can easily get lost in the layout and presentation of the film. However, the true magic behind a documentary is often luck. No matter how much planning and careful crafting go into the film, there is always a degree of fortuity involved -- that your subjects will be cogent and engaging, or that the story unfolds in a cinematic way. This luck is what made The Ghosts of Cite Soliel so insanely gripping, and why this new documentary by Eric Bergkraut, Letter to Anna -- The Story of Journalist Politkovskaya's Death, is worth your time.

The benefit of making documentaries about current or recent media figures who have passed away is that there is a fountain of information to choose from -- video clips, interviews, memoirs, family members, friends. They allow for a deeper and more personal look at the subject, and free the filmmaker from having to make educated guesses based on old sources skewed by translation, agenda, and lost bits of information. But rarely, if ever, do we see a documentary about someone who has passed away where their interviews speak directly to the theme of the film. In the case of Letter to Anna, Bergkraut is fortunate enough to have hours of interviews with slain journalist Anna Politkovskaya from his previous documentary, Coca: The Dove from Chechnya. These conversations not only infuse the film with a definite sense of who she was, but also allow us to learn about Anna's passions and personality directly from the source.

I arrived in lovely Urbana, Illinois late Wednesday night after being grounded by a thunderstorm and missing my connection in Chicago, but all is well now that I'm here for this lovely little fest. The heart and soul of Ebertfest, of course, is Roger Ebert, who is sadly absent this year due to fracturing his hip while doing physical therapy trying to get strong enough to be here.

Roger has written on his own blog about his sadness at not being able to be here to enjoy the films he programmed and to see his many friends. Those of us who are here for the fest feel his absence. Last year, he sat in the back row of the Virginia Theater, ensconced in the recliner brought in for him, where he sat flanked by his nurse on one side and wife Chaz on the other, and his warmth and enthusiasm radiated through the stately theater. This year, the chair sits empty, and though he is here in spirit, that gentle, humble presence and ever-ready smile are keenly missed, though everyone here, of course, is more concerned about his health than anything else.

Saddle up! It's time for another edition of The (Mostly) Indie Film Calendar, a weekly roundup of movie stuff that's happening beyond the multiplexes. I've got my usual sources that I go to for info on things taking place in some of the major cities, but if you know of a cool event happening where you are, please let me know! You'll find me at Eric.Snider (at) Weblogsinc (dot) com. I'll leave the key under the doormat.

INDIE THEATRICAL RELEASES

• Deal is another gambling movie, this time about the World Series of Poker. It stars Burt Reynolds, Bret Harrison, and Shannon Elizabeth, and opens today on a few dozen screens nationwide (mostly L.A., NYC, Chicago, and of course Las Vegas).

• Then She Found Me, which has played at seemingly every film festival of the past six months, is the directorial debut of Helen Hunt, who also stars as a woman whose birth mother (Bette Midler) comes into her life just when it's at its most hectic. Cinematical's Ryan Stewart gave it a passing grade at Toronto last fall. It's in NYC and L.A. as of today.

• Roman de Gare comes to us from France, where the title is a term for popular, disposable novels (think John Grisham). Fittingly, the film is being described as a watchable but forgettable story about a mystery novelist who gets wrapped up in a real-life mystery. Opens today in NYC.

More theatrical releases, plus a city-by-city list of special events, after the jump....

In 2005, Mexican journalist Lydia Cacho released a book called Demons of Eden. The text exposed the horrific world of statutory rape and pedophilia in Mexico, focusing specifically on two Lebanese-Mexican gangsters, Jean Succar Kuri and Kamel Nacif Borge. But Cacho had done more than just write a book -- she faced a vehement backlash in her attempt to bring the horrors these children faced to justice. It is a powerful story, but unfortunately Alejandra Islas' new documentary based on this struggle fails to live up to its subject matter.

Granted, there are many pieces to this story -- the world of the victimized children, the pedophiles and their personal and business pursuits, the connections these men have with political figures throughout Mexico, what that meant for Cacho, and the writer's own personal history. Just keeping it all straight is work enough, but as it is presented, through a melange of quick transitions and fancy graphics, Demons of Eden is a confusing and muddled look at a brave and inspiring fight for justice.

Fests to the left of me, fests to the right of me. Tribeca started last night in the Big Apple and the San Francisco International Film Festival kicks off tonight; meanwhile, three other fests have been stimulating film-goers on two different continents.

I attended the first Indian Film Festival of Los Angeles several years ago, and even in its inaugural edition it was well-run, smartly programmed, and widely supported. The sixth edition started Tuesday night with the local premiere of Amal, described by the fest as a "charming fable [that] examines the true nature of happiness in a society obsessed with speed, technology and monetary wealth." Last night's highlights included Before the Rains, a "colonial noir" set in South India in 1937.

Romantic comedy Kissing Cousins unreels tonight, as does American Movie director Chris Smith's latest, The Pool, while gangster thrills take center stage on Friday evening with Johnny Gaddar. The program is packed over the weekend, with Liz Mermin's excellent doc Shot in Bombay (which I saw at SXSW) screening on Saturday, and the world premiere of Mumbai Cutting ... A City Unfolds, featuring the the work of ten top Indian directors, closing the fest on Sunday night.

The 38th annual USA Film Festival should be better known than it is, simply because of its longetivity, but the festival's organizers appear content to stage the carefully-curated event in Dallas, Texas with a minimum of fanfare.

Before two airliners crashed into the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001, the 1985 bombing of Air India flight 182 was the deadliest terrorist attack involving an airplane. On June 23, 1985, Air India Flight 181 left Toronto an hour and forty minutes late, stopped in Montreal, became flight 182, and then headed across the Atlantic Ocean bound for London. Just over 100 miles from Ireland, the plane exploded in the air and crashed into the ocean, killing everyone on-board -- 329 people, which included 280 Canadian citizens and 136 children. It was a devastating tragedy, yet it was largely ignored by the world at large, as well as the country that housed the largest number of casualties (Canada).

Almost 23 years later, the story is finally hitting big screens with Sturla Gunnarsson's documentary, Air India 182. Between the tragedy and the time it took for the matter to be resolved in courts almost two decades later, the story of 182 is long and intense. Gunnarsson sorts through it by focusing on how it came to be, rather than its drawn-out aftermath -- the terrorists who planned it, the government officials trying to discern the plan and stop it, and the families who suffered tremendous personal losses in the tragedy.

It's a good weekend to live in Los Angeles if you happen to love film festivals. Through this weekend, City of Lights, City of Angels, a weeklong extravaganza of French film premieres, is still going on. If you, like me, love subtitles, you'll want to check out what's still up on the program. Looking the schedule over, I do have a few recommendations for you. Film noir fans, tonight is your night, with a quadruplet of French noir fun for your viewing pleasure.

I don't know much about the films on the noir slate, but after dealing with a pack of kids sick with strep all week, I'm most assuredly in a darkish-noir mood, and I'd love to just sit in the dark for eight hours and chill with these films. Besides, check out the fabulously porntastic noir-stache on the dude on the right, from the poster for Rivals, one of the films on the noir schedule. That's a truly spectacular 'stache, and the whole poster kind of feels like a very dark, very French Starsky and Hutch, n'est-ce pas?