A TOWN CALLED PANIC

Starring Stéphane Aubier, Jeanne Balibar, Bruce Ellison (voices)
Opens Jan. 29

This goofy—often laugh-out-loud funny—stop-motion animated tale from Belgium has Cowboy, Indian and Horse sharing a house together. When Cowboy and Indian forget Horse’s birthday, they try to get him a last-minute present. When the pair inadvertently order 50,000,000 bricks for a barbeque set, their house is soon destroyed. Alas, in their efforts to rebuild, thieves keep making off with the walls. So the trio sets off on a madcap adventure that has them go underground, across snow and into the sea to capture the crooks. This brightly colored, highly diverting film runs just over an hour and is full of great comic touches—from the urgent voices of all the characters to fabulous sight gags, such as what happens when Cowboy drops a cell phone into lava. The film’s stylish images—Horse removing his shoes when he gets into bed at night, the use of a swordfish as both a tool and a weapon—make A Town Called Panic memorable. If things get a bit too manic in the last reel as all of the plot lines converge, at least the coda featuring skydiving cows among other amusing things will leave viewers smiling. —Gary M. Kramer

DREAMKILLER

Starring Dario Deak, John Colton, Penny Drake

Dreamkiller begins with a crawl regarding episodes of experiments of psychosis scientifically engineered by Nazis during WWII. Switch to modern-day L.A.—which is psychosis-inducing enough—and we’re introduced to Dr. Nick Nemet (Deak), Dr. Stalberg (Colton) and some intrigue regarding a murder, visions and labyrinthine plot turns. For about ten minutes Dreamkiller—written by Clyde Ware and directed by Catherine C. Pirotta—has the clinical, dimly horrific air of an early David Cronenberg film. Yet as it unfolds you realize it shares more with Cronenberg’s early work than you’d like—the sci-fi underpinnings, the head-scratching pile-up of clichés that pass for dialogue and the kind of wooden acting that’d keep you from starring in a straight-to-cable afterhours soft-core exploitation feature. It’d be sad work to figure out what is worse—the jumbled script, the rote thriller/horror flick score or the lead actor, Dario Deak, with a distracting head of hair, an uncanny way of saying everything as if he’s reading if off a card and a vaguely Eastern European accent. He’s also one of the listed producers, making this a vanity project that just might kill his dreams of Hollywood stardom. —Dan Loughry

DROOL

Starring Laura Harring, Jill Marie Jones, Oded Fehr
Now Showing

Desperate housewife Anora (Harring) lives under the thumb of a bigoted, abusive hubby, Cheb (Fehr), and a pair of angsty, drama-stirring adolescents, boycrazy Tabby (Ashley Duggan Smith) and 13-year-old budding ‘mo Little Pete (Christopher Newhouse). Enter Imogene (Jones), an African-American cosmetics salesperson who brings a warm smile and romance to the repressed Anora—which doesn’t go down well with Cheb. What follows is like Bound re-imagined by Todd Solondz, as the women and children road trip to a safe haven with dad’s body in the trunk. A patchwork of components lifted from seemingly every quirky/heartening Sundance breakout over the past 5 years—Little Miss Sunshine, Juno, etc.—Drool is nonetheless a breath of fresh, fun, twisted air as far as the lesbian movie canon goes. Winner of the 2006 Slamdance Screenwriting Competition, Drool was initially conceived by writer/director Nancy Kissam as a “John Waters-esque, campy revenge comedy.” Indeed, there’s a dusting of Desperate Living amongst the calculated riffs (Dana Boulé’s score, amongst other things, is eye-rollingly Juno-esque). Although in Kissam’s stylized, logic-lite yet rarely over-the-top universe, everybody’s an asshole paying it forward, and liberation and utopia are found through queerness. Kudos! —Lawrence Ferber

RED RIDING TRILOGY

Starring Andrew Garfield, Sean Bean, Robert Sheehan
Opens Feb. 12

A noir epic sprawling over nine years in Yorkshire, England, Red Riding, adapted from David Peace’s acclaimed novels, is divided into three films. In 1974, directed by Julian Jarrold, little girls are being murdered, with swans’ wings stitched onto their backs. While investigating the case, young crime reporter Eddie (Garfield) gets tangled in a web of corruption, power and lies involving the local police and a property magnate (Bean). In 1980, directed by James Marsh, a police vet (Paddy Considine) probes even deeper into the snake pit. And 1983, directed by Anand Turner, ties up the ends as a detective (David Morrissey) deals with what could be copycat child abductions and murders. While it sounds like another Zodiac on paper, Red Riding is all about corruption—the serial killer cases framing each film are essentially red herrings. Riding’s not as engrossing as a result, and “comic relief” has no meaning here, but it’s operatic, artful stuff. Each director brings a distinct style—Jarrold makes 1974 look as if it was actually made back then—yet a washed-out bleakness both visually and tonally characterizes the entire trilogy. Another connecting thread is the character of BJ (Sheehan), a harried, young rent boy tied up with all the wrong people. —L.F.