With a voice as smooth as her name, Angel Taylor steps onto the scene sounding a seasoned veteran, just waiting to find herself at the top of the charts. A diary-confessional songwriting style like that of Taylor Swift and Colbie Caillat, and the sound of Corinne Bailey Rae with a side of Estelle combine to create an irresistible combination of artistry. Her first major single release "Make Me Believe" is doing just that, with a catchy chorus and funkified R&B segment. Another must hear, "Like You Do," is a perfect summer love song reminiscent of warm breezes, birds and bees. Look for Angel Taylor as she makes the ascent from unknown to most played, and if you find her as appealing as I do pick up her first album Love Travels.

Bursting onto the country scene are the new faces of a group under the name Gloriana. For those of you who can remember, Cheyenne Kimball (of MTV reality show fame) formed the group after mediocre success as a solo artist with the Billboard hit "Hangin On." The band consists of brothers Tom and Mike Gossin, Rachel Reinert and Kimball all contributing vocals and other musical stylings. The group's first single "Wild at Heart" is a feel good jam climbing its way up the Hot Country Songs chart, currently sitting at 32 with steady airplay. If you're one of the many attending Taylor Swift's Fearless Tour, you will also see them as an opening act. The group sound pops more than it twangs, which is just what the country scene seems to be enjoying at the moment.

The unconventional sound and folk blend of Joe Pug are proof that different isn't always deadly. In a time of synthesizers and vocoders, this natural-sounding singer/songwriter is an example that artists such as Johnny Cash live on in the music industry. Pug has recently caught the attention of Billboard Magazine, who praises his stylistic eccentricity and down-to-earth demeanor. The best thing, however, is that Joe Pug truly is an Under the Radar artist (he doesn't have a Wikipedia page). Check out "Unconventional Heart" before the rest of the masses even hear his first note.

Fox television’s once formidable Sunday cartoon line-up has been showing the wear of its age for some time now. “The Simpsons,” by pretty much all accounts, hasn’t been good for a decade or more. “Family Guy” has been rehashing the same jokes and stretching its premise dangerously thin for years. The derivative “American Dad” is just a poor substitute for “Family Guy” with a more honest attempt at cohesive story telling. “King of the Hill” is done after next season. This once powerful dynasty of animated entertainment is ready to collapse.

In an attempt to salvage this once mighty block of shows, tonight, Fox will premiere the brand new animated series “Sit Down, Shut Up.” Simply put, the show is fresh, exciting and exhibits an intelligent and quirky sense of humor. This show just may be able to save Fox’s abysmal outlook for future Sunday nights.

“Sit Down, Shut Up” details the lives of nine teachers and administrators working at the high school in Knob Haven, a small Florida fishing town. For the most part, the staff members are weird, aggressive, narcissistic, incompetent and downright malevolent. The one exception, though he’s also not perfect, is the P.E. teacher Larry Littlejunk (Jason Bateman, “Arrested Development”). Striving to be the voice of reason and moderation, Littlejunk serves as the semi-hero amongst a den of villains, thieves and morons while pursuing his love interest, the completely inept science teacher Miracle Grohe (Kristin Chenoweth from the Broadway hit “Wicked”).

The rest of the faculty is comprised of outlandish personalities, voiced by some very familiar and competent names. Ennis Hofftard (Will Arnett, “Arrested Development”) is the arrogant womanizing English teacher. Willard Deutschebog (Henry Winkler, “Arrested Development,” otherwise known as The Fonz to the older crowd) is the bizarre parasitic like-German teacher. Stuart Poszakian (Will Forte “Saturday Night Live”) is the completely moronic and useless assistant Principal. Helen Klench (Sheri Oteri, “SNL” alum) is the scrappy and sexually desperate librarian. Principal Sue Sezno (Kenan Thompson, “SNL”) is mean spirited and manipulative. Rounding out the staff are the bi-sexual and completely ridiculous drama teacher Andrew LeGustambos (Nick Kroll, one of the cavemen from “Cavemen”) and the disgruntled custodian Muhannad Sabeeh “Happy” Fa-ach Nuabar (Tom Kenny, “SpongeBob SquarePants”).

Written by “Arrested Development” creator Mitchell Hurwitz, and Eric and Kim Tannenbaum from “Two and a Half Men,” the show exhibits the same sort of oddball awkward and sometimes edgy humor inherent of “Arrested Development.” Each of the characters has a very clearly defined and hilarious personality, and like the Bluths, you can simultaneously hate them, laugh at them and yet hope that things turn out okay in the end.

The show also scores points for being self-referential, with characters referring to their own catch phrases and flashbacks like “Family Guy” while still being able to support integrated and interesting storylines.

The animated style is fresh as well, with the interesting art design of the animated characters being placed over real life photography.

Basically, if you’re a fan of animated comedies, or especially if you were a fan of “Arrested Development,” “Sit Down, Shut Up,” is definitely worth checking out. Even if you’re not usually a fan of animated series, if you’ve been craving some fairly intelligent and original content from your TV, then it may be worth your time to watch the pilot tonight. The show may prove too unique for its own good, like “Arrested Development,” but if given the chance, could breathe new life into a decaying franchise, Fox Sunday nights.

**”Sit Down, Shut Up” premieres tonight at 7:30-8:00 PM on Fox.

“The Spirit,” a visually driven adaptation of Will Eisner’s newspaper comic strip of the same name, hit DVD stores on Tuesday. If this title does not ring a bell, you certainly are not the only one. This silver screen bomb brought in only a meager $19.8 million domestically at the box office. While it would take just short of a miracle to make this movie worth seeing, the film’s producers do manage to cover up some of this stinker’s odor with the additions included on this DVD.

Denny Colt (Gabriel Macht, “Because I Said So”) is a formerly deceased rookie cop, who mysteriously returns from the beyond as the detective known only as The Spirit, to combat the evil forces of Central City. Standing in his way is The Octopus (Samuel L. Jackson, “Soul Men”), a cold-hearted villain determined to wipe out The Spirit’s beloved city on his way to obtaining immortality. To save Central City, The Spirit must not only track down his archenemy, but also face a pack of beautiful women, including the whip-smart Silken Floss (Scarlett Johansson, “He’s Just Not That Into You”) and the dangerous Sand Saref (Eva Mendes, “The Women”), who want to either seduce, love or kill the city’s masked crusader.

As creator of the “Sin City” and “300” graphic novels, director/writer Frank Miller unquestionably knows and understands the workings behind creating a comic book. In fact, as director of stunning 2005 “Sin City” film adaptation, he demonstrated that he could also create a successful comic book movie, which is not always an easy task - just ask the directors of “Catwoman,” “Daredevil,” both “Fantastic Four” films, “Ghost Rider,” “Howard the Duck,” all three “Punisher” movies…you get the idea. Yet, Miller fails miserably this time around and will certainly watch this movie join the members of the aforementioned black list of comic book flicks.

To say Miller is a visual genius would probably be an understatement. The way he translates the pages of a comic book onto the screen is eye-popping to say the least. He always picks just the right color, whether it is the crimson in The Spirit’s tie or the golden glow of a treasure chest, to focus the frame on in order to create a spectacular spectacle. The result is a film that truly looks and feels like a graphic novel.

The problem is the film only looks amazing. The action is lackluster, the characters are like Miller’s visual mannequins and they are just about as developed and the screenplay contains none of the compelling crime drama, adventure, comedy or love stories that made the comic so popular.

While the cast’s costumes evoke cinematic energy, especially Jackson’s wide-ranging wardrobe that runs the gamut from a samurai suit to a Nazi uniform, the actors themselves are unable to escape Miller’s dreary, overly ham-handed screenplay.

What is reassuring about this DVD is that it is able to retain the only thing the movie had going for it in the theaters. While the experience will obviously improve depending on the TV, the colors still have the same pop and the visuals are as eye-catching as they were in the theater. The sound quality is also top-notch, allowing the film’s hybrid soundtrack of ’40s jazz and moving heroic music to stir the audience’s senses.

The DVD’s special features do have some redeeming qualities, though. The “Green World” featurette offers an exciting in-depth look into the world of the green screen and how Miller and the visual effects team effectively used this technology to give the film its stunning comic book feel. The DVD also includes a fascinating “Miller on Miller” featurette that gives audiences the chance to dive into the bizarre, yet, brilliant mind of Frank Miller and learn how he became who is today from the man who knows him best, himself.

However, the alternate storyboard ending and audio commentary, both of which feature voiceovers from the cast and producers, are just as uninspiring as the dialogue in the actual film was.

In the end, “The Spirit” is destined to be one of those films that becomes, at best, a cult classic to the diehard fans of the comic. While the DVD’s additional features do offer some redemption to a film that is only visually appealing, it is nowhere near enough to make this film actually worth picking up.

Grade: 2 out of 5 stars

From fake Gucci, to Fifth Ave., to the serenity of Central Park, NYC offers something for all agendas. An initial visit to Times Square surely puts the Capital Square into proportionate dimensions. While there is nothing better than our dear city of Madison, the two cannot be compared. With nearby Greenwich Village, Chinatown, Brooklyn, Manhattan, and Soho, the possibilities for exploring are endless. Last weekend, a student group had the opportunity to do a whirlwind four-day perusal of New York City. While some members proved to be veteran tourists of NYC, many in the group, like myself, were having our very first love affair with the alleged global city.

Unnecessarily large bags in hand, fourteen UW-Madison ladies stepped into La Guardia airport excited, and slightly jet lagged from the 5:30 a.m. arrival at the Dane County airport. As expected, the initial culture shock of not being the racial majority was both refreshing and stimulating coming from the largely homogenous UW campus. After a questionably safe and incredibly overpriced cab ride through central park to western Manhattan, we finally arrived at our incredibly affordable, questionably located youth hostel en masse. Those who have frequented hostels know that they come in many makes and models, from frightening to comfortable. Luckily, our hostel of choice was of the latter variety. Although the surrounding neighborhood had a pretty constant population of shady characters hanging out in front of the numerous liquor stores, they proved to be harmless.

Post-hostel initiation, fourteen classily-dressed ladies ventured into an underground metro station. The multitude and variety of New Yorkers riding the subway did our Madison hearts proud. While subway usage is largely due to the cost and hassle of owning a vehicle in NYC; I choose to believe that people are making an effort to be more environmentally conscious. Ignorance is bliss.

Anthropology students could have a field day studying the NY subway culture, as the thralls of commuters pass through the metro gates. Some talented, and some not so talented performers livened up the stressful atmosphere as our business shoes clacked on the cement en route to the train - from a man dressed like Jesus, to a Midwestern boy singing show tunes for tips - there was always someone or something interesting to watch in passing.

On the train, in true tourist style, maps were whipped out to avoid missing our stop. While the chance of us missing Times Square was not likely, in large groups it’s better to err on the side of caution. Following a tour of People Magazine en Espanol, it was time to hit Broadway.

For those interested in advertising, Times Square is a must-see. The incredible digital banners and stock tickers running alongside massive buildings catch consumers’ attentions, even the NYPD building is lit up with blue florescent lights. This seemed a bit more of a fashion statement than a necessity, but who am I to judge? To my great dismay, the infamous naked cowboy was nowhere in sight when we visited the square.

While waiting in line, outside, at 5:30 a.m. in the drizzling rain may seem like cruel and unnecessary punishment, the promise of meeting Diane Sawyer was enough to keep the fourteen Wisconsin visitors waiting. Seeing the sun come up on Times Square was an added bonus, while the creeper in line ahead of us was a detraction from the situation. Nonetheless, Good Morning America interviewed Bob Saget in front of a gaggle of UW communications majors on national television. It took our group nearly an hour to get over our initial disappointment with the guest star being Danny Tanner; luckily it soon wore off. Although there is a good chance that no one other than fourteen WI mothers recognized our shining faces on GMA, the experience of watching the morning show being filmed was well worth the soggy wait.

While sightseeing and serial-shopping could keep tourists busy for weeks in NYC, the nightlife is equally as impressive. The party scene was high profile as list-only clubs charged $10 for a tiny beverage, but it is well worth the three-floor dance fest waiting inside. With a DJ on every floor, crazy fashion and the hint of illegal substances in the air, our small-town basement-party mentality was challenged. The local nightlife near the hostel was undoubtedly the most random and unexpected environment for good times, with a little Latin American flavor, some tequila followed by horrible spanglish communication and chips and salsa to top it off.

Based on word of mouth information about New York, many in our Midwestern group expected it to be dirty and the people to be rude with obnoxious accents. I can only imagine that New Yorkers expect Wisconsinites to be overweight, beer and cheese loving farmers based on similar statewide stereotypes. During the four-day trip, there were only two run-ins with stereotypical New Yorkers. One was expectedly on the escalator in the subway as a man yelled “Hey Blondie, I’m walkin’ here” up the escalator to get our cluster of blond-haired bodies out of his way. Another incident occurred in Soho as a snobby local blatantly ignored a direct question. Aside from these isolated incidences, the vitality of the city proved intoxicating. The inevitable question “so when are you going back?” is continually thrown around post-vacation, in the case of NYC, the answer to that question will always be “not soon enough!”

Upon first reading about the 1974 film “The Taking of Pelham One Two Three,” I was intruiged. A heist flick staring comedic genius Walter Matthau didn’t quite seem like it would work very well. Comedy forced into action movies usually comes off as dull and simply unfunny, however, nothing could be further from the truth in the case of “Pelham.”

The film centers around the life of a New York City transit cop named Garber, who is played by Matthau. It seems to be just another day at the train races for the officer until a group of men decide to hijack a subway train. The men have demands in mind, and Garber, coupled with the rest of the city, must race the clock before numerous hostages suffer dire consequences. At first glance, the plot seems clich� and overdone, yet there are many things which make this film stand apart and worth watching though.

One huge draw is the amazing comedic writing and timing throughout the film. Matthau’s dry and somber delivery of lines breathes hilarious freshness, very reminiscent of his character in the “Grumpy Old Men” series. The comedy found here is complimented well by the huge cast of well-known supporting actors. We see a fellow police officer played by Jerry Stiller, and the wife of the NYC mayor played by Doris Roberts. While some may not know these actors by name, most will recognize their once-played characters of George’s dad in “Seinfeld” and Ray’s mom in “Everybody Loves Raymond.” Along with many other well recognized actors, these two add to the well-acted comedy side of this film.

Besides resulting in nearly constant laughter throughout, the film also does an excellent job at creating suspense as a heist movie. There are numerous beat-the-clock scenarios at play here, and the film plays them out in an edge-of-your-seat, suspenseful way. And most importantly, it does this without being cheesy or unbelievable.

The film also sports a surprising amount of violence and vulgarity for a 1974 film. This is a fact that many action aficionados may enjoy, especially when one sees the homage paid to the film by many modern action directors. The gang of men running the heist for example, uses alternate names such as Mr. Blue and Mr. Green, an idea later borrowed in the widely followed and acclaimed “Reservoir Dogs.”

At 104 minutes, the film is the usual length for an action film, and longer than most comedies. Even so, the film never drags and keeps a very enthralling and entertaining pace. This is an achievement for a ’70s film, especially when compared to the quickly cut action fests that are most common today.

Speaking of, the film is currently in the process of being remade and will be released this year - most likely as one of the slew of previously mentioned, quickly cut, action fests. While the film is lined up with some major talent such as John Travolta and Denzel Washington, they’ll most likely fit into specific niche roles which are anything but out of the ordinary. “The Taking of Pelham One Two Three” is an amazing film and definitely doesn’t need to be remade. Whether or not you decide to see the new version this year, any fan of action-comedies would fall deeply in love with the original.

What did you accomplish in high school? Were you captain of the soccer team, did you star in your school’s play? Or did you have the chance to film one of the most well-known alternative rock groups of the past 20 years? “Sonic Youth: Sleeping Nights Awake” is the beautiful result of the latter, and yes, you should feel both jealous and foolishly inadequate.

The 2008 documentary was directed by Michael Albright and captured by Project Moonshine, a non-profit group training teenagers for filmmakerdom. Their assignment, worthy of endless envy, was to follow Sonic Youth in Reno for their July 4 2006 show. Far from being amateur, what these ambitious high school kids did with three digital cameras and an artistic eye is astounding.

The documentary, shot in black and white, is a sophisticated portrait of the famed noise rock troupe that knows how to stay relevant. Considering Sonic Youth’s legacy, these young filmmakers are all the more impressive in their brilliant visual feat. Instead of being intimidated, the young prot�g�s let their curiosity drive their endeavor and the result is a multitude of honest and powerful frames.

Interviews alternate with live footage from the concert, providing points of contrast between the candid vulnerability of the band members and crew with their raw power and energy onstage. We all know what Sonic Youth is capable of, but their humility is drawn out by questions ranging from “what would stop you from continuing?” to, “we hear you really like burritos”. What results is a feeling of conversational depth that matches the film’s richness of visual splendor.

Some of this depth may be purely coincidental. Perhaps the visual flatness of interview style is what creates such high contrast with stunning montages of fingers picking strings and mouths kissing microphones being illuminated only by strobe light. Yet it is through a lack of manipulation and pure creative vision that so many memorable shots of barely-lit profiles and guitar close-ups permeate the screen. It isn’t difficult to imagine yourself behind the lens, because what is shown is exactly what you want to see.

The ease of interaction between the band and young film crew provides a revealing vignette into the dynamics of the band members. One moment Kim Gordon is divulging her hesitations and the ideology of the group, and then we enter variety hour with the ever clever Thurston Moore. We hear from the men manning the technical equipment that they are still mystified by the shows, we emerge with a sense of respect for the humble, grounded powerhouse that is Sonic Youth.

The sensitivity shown in both capturing and editing the footage of actual performed songs is compelling. The speed of the cuts match the energy of the band, creating an atmosphere that would otherwise have been lost in translation. It’s as if the ticket for the film has suddenly become your backstage pass into an electrifying show.

Near the end, Moore admits that the band had a choice between having a day off or partaking in their Reno show. You can’t help but feel a pang of shock in contemplating a universe without this experience that Project Moonlight was determined enough to capture, and gifted enough to make beautiful.

Popcorn, crying, sock puppets, and a miniscule stabbing… Welcome to Frownland.

The title frames the eerie world of this 2007 film, written and directed by UW Madison alum Ronald Brownstein. It follows Keith Sontag (Dore Mann), the most awkward man you can imagine, and painfully documents his failed interactions with the other outcasts around him. The screening at the Wisconsin Film Festival was introduced by the cautionary words “this is not the feel-good movie of the year.” While that was an understatement, everyone deserves a warning of some sort.

Indeed, you need to be well aware of the discomfort that this film confronts in all of its 16mm glory. It is a grainy sort of film that follows people at the margins of social interactions and examines life as it is without glamorization (or, perhaps life at its most exhausting and hopeless). This bareness is manifested in the lack of soundtrack. The only music is that of the lackluster musical stylings of Keith’s roommate Charles (Paul Grimstad), or sporadic, creepy and futuristic tones reminiscent of A Clockwork Orange.

The sparseness of sound is exacerbated by the small amount of comprehendible dialogue. When Keith is not nonsensically sputtering, the viewer is confronted with absurdist ruminations that leave nothing resolved. Secondary characters only enhance the tension felt between what normal human interaction is supposed to be, and what it actually is in Frownland. Everyone is vaguely aware of each other’s needs, but cannot communicate well enough to address them. You can’t help but share Keith’s frustration as he searches for the words to express himself; words he can never quite grasp.

No shot is too close or too intrusive. The camera intimately exposes those embarrassing human processes that are usually hidden. Brownson’s fixation within the personal space of all of his characters will make you feel as cramped as Keith’s apartment.

You never quite know what is going on inside Keith’s infantilized mind, but you can imagine the turmoil because of the proximity to his pained face. He is continuously and obsessively touching his mouth and attempting to speak with little success. He is right in your face, and he will make you anxious.

To combat the antsy feeling this film inspires (in part by Mann’s full frontal nudity), there are some moments to inspire laughter. Go ahead and giggle at Keith’s roommate’s philosophical, yet insensitive speaking style, or at the sad jokes made by Keith himself. Laugh, if you can. This film embodies post-modernism as it applies to social norms, and is somehow stripped of its divinely humorous and achingly intellectual connotations.

As the film spirals further into its own desperate landscape, the background elements of comfort disappear. Sunshine and recognizable direction vanish in lieu of darkness and freakish nightlife. You will find yourself losing grip with Keith, whether or not you want to. You speed walk with him, feverishly trying to light a bent Marlboro Red, and desperately lashing out just for the sake of human contact.

Despite the incredible amounts of discomfort, here is obvious merit to making it through this film. Apparently the folks at SXSW thought so, as they gave it the Special Jury Prize in 2007. Maybe they had “Best Disquieting Film” on their minds.

This year’s film festival has once again yielded an incredibly wide range of genres. The coming-of-age narrative is one we’re all familiar with, both compellingly in fiction and more tangibly as simply growing up ourselves. At the festival’s Friday night showing of 32A, it is precisely this bittersweet sense of familiarity that writer and director Marian Quinn successfully evokes in her story of four 13-year-old girls growing up in Dublin.

Protagonist Maeve Brennan is an awkward, intelligent character with three raucous siblings, a thoughtful father and a mother who undergoes surgery to remove a tumor from her breast. Her three best friends are also charming, smart girls who relax with Maeve on a bench to gossip about who’s going out with who while stopping occasionally to muse over the size of women’s breasts. The four girls begin to experience trouble when attractive, mature Brian Power starts paying a curious amount of attention to Maeve. She experiences a clandestine night at the local dance club with him, and in turn stands up the rest of her friends who are waiting to meet one girl’s estranged father.

The characters and acting are two ways by which this movie succeeds. Each girl speaks candidly about her concerns, frustrations and hopes. The truthfulness of each young girl’s experience is remarkably relatable while avoiding formula or clich�. We watch as Maeve smokes pot for the first time, gets into a club she is too young to be in and then gets her heart broken. We see the irrational, yet incredibly painful experience of hurting our friends and getting hurt in return. This movie addresses the reality of growing up: A desire to become more social and connected with our peers, while struggling to grow as an individual and also fulfill a role in the family.

The movie’s sentimentality is not overdone, however. The humor of seeing Maeve’s friends chat about enlarged female sex organs, or trying to buy a bra for the first time while the store clerk shows off each purchase to a father, add color and fullness to an already incredibly endearing tale. It becomes clear that Quinn is interested in portraying life exactly as it has been for all young women wanting to be beautiful — and realizing that is most possible when being yourself with the people you love.

The film also raises issues about the role of the parent. Maeve’s friend, Ruth, is a strong, dignified teen whose father left nine years prior. She shows Maeve photos of her mom presumably with a black eye and speaks bluntly about her father’s alleged abuse. A scene where three of the girls end up in a taxi with this man is one of the most electric, suspenseful scenes in the film. Ruth’s pain comes to life while the audience is horrified and sympathetic.

This exploration of the theme of family is indicated also when the four girls relax by the water and discuss whether they want kids or will ever get married. These are choices no one can make at age 13, yet they are questions that we are socialized to ask well into our adulthood.

The film’s raw emotion, honesty and intuitive use of humor combine to portray a must-see coming-of-age story. Maeve is the perfect combination of selfishness, nobility, charm and awkwardness. While her story is not simple, it is one we will return to again and again with the knowledge that friendships and family are most important in these turbulent, formative years.

The movie “Goodbye Solo” is perfect for your garden-variety film festival crowd. That is, only if the crowd is composed of family members of director Ramin Bahrani and writer Bahareh Azimi, those eligible for social security (indeed, there were many gray heads in the audience), and those with very slow-paced lives who like their entertainment to follow suit. Every chapter in the film is drawn out to its maximum value. Each new scene seems to contain at least a 30 second pause where no one is speaking out of which every last drop of tension is squeezed. That’s not to say that all silences are bad; oftentimes, they make the movie. But when they are applied this frequently it gives the movie a feeling of deliberation, and breaks up the flow of the plot.

That said, “Goodbye Solo” has a few significant redeeming qualities. One of those is the production quality, which is much higher than that of your typical independently-produced film. The misty fog and vivid red autumn leaves make the cinematography in the last mountain scene somewhat breathtaking. The film has impeccable lighting and sound overall, and moderately good acting (especially on the part of Souleymane Sy Savane, who plays Solo).

Another positive is the utterly original storyline. Set in the misty, almost surreal foothills and mountains of Winston-Salem, North Carolina, the film follows the testy relationship between two men who met in a cab ride and happen to be polar opposites. William (Red West) is an old man from the South who epitomizes the heartless, unreachable, rough hewn cowboy. Solo is a relentlessly happy Senegalese cab driver whose only aim in life is to please the people around him, whether it is William, his customers, or his angry Mexican wife, Navani (Navani Reyes). Although the characters themselves are stereotypes, their combination presents an entirely unique situation. William has hired Solo to drive him to the top of the Great Smoky Mountains on Oct. 20 and to leave him there for the pretty sum of $1,000. At first his reasons for taking this highly unusual trip are clouded. As the movie goes on, though, William’s shockingly tragic reasons for taking the trip become clearer and clearer. Solo observes with growing anxiety as the old man gives away his things, closes his bank accounts, and makes numerous indirect attempts at reconciling himself with his grandson before he leaves the world behind.

Not knowing what to do, Solo responds by trying to befriend William and ultimately prevent him from going. However, he is met repeatedly with harsh and unyielding resentment. The dynamics between the two main characters - Solo’s incessant friendliness followed by William’s steadfast rejection - are dramatic and occasionally amusing, and represent a pattern that is repeated throughout. This relationship motif is solid enough motif to carry the first few scenes, but it gets old fast. When it comes down to it, there simply isn’t enough chemistry or emotional shift between the two to sustain an entire movie.

The conclusion (or lack thereof) leaves audiences yearning for something undefinable that never quite came to full fruition. All along, the storyline intimates that these two men need each other to get along in a harsh world. There is no evidence, however, that this ever really happens. Throughout the movie, William remains staunchly alone, refusing to shift his position and accept Solo’s friendship. Solo never gets a much-deserved response to his own pleasant demeanor. In a way it is the lack of events, combined with an excess of exhausting, contemplative pauses in the dialogue that drags the film down.

The film “Goodbye Solo” has the ability to incite and sustain anticipation in the audience, but in the end we - like William - are never moved.

An adorable infant cackles to his fathers antics, behind the camcorder, until the infant, giggling to a point of unbalance, tips over and bumps his head. Two school girls, engaged in a catfight, punch, kick and pull hair as their classmates egg them on, watching and recording with their camera phones. A sinewy, washed out woman is questioned about her sexual habits from an unidentified man behind the camera before the same man grips her by the throat and engages in sexual activity. The camera pans out the opening montage of viral videos to a darkened room revealing a Macintosh and a hormonal teenager, Robert (Ezra Miller, “City Island”) masturbating to violent pornography.

This 2008 Cannes Film Festival and 2009 Wisconsin Film Festival independent drama entry, “Afterschool,” directed by breakout U.S Brazilian director, Antonio Campos, delves into the angst ]-plagued sexual and rebellious nature of New England prep school students while hinting at the troubles associated with a technology fueled society where virtually anything we can point our cell phones toward becomes public. In a world dominated by Facebook, YouTube and Twitter, privacy ceases to exist.

Blatantly unrestrained sexual indicators exact a raw high school experience, sufficiently evidencing the teenage sexual curiosity. We all know teenagers aren’t angels anyway. Antonio understands that hormones are uncontrollable, thereby making sexuality unavoidable. Wide screen scenes focus up the skirt and down the shirt of an attractive teacher. Students passionately kiss in the background while another seeks comfort from his mother.

The introverted protagonist, Robert epitomizes kids at the bottom of the high school social hierarchy. He doesn’t participate in sports, the “cool” kids copy his homework assignments, he wastes a majority of his free time watching violent and intimate viral videos of interactions between people to compensate for a lack of friends. His ominous and personality, justified by a shocking revelation at the end of the movie elucidates the confusion and search for identity during adolescence. While filming an empty hall for his audiovisual class, he befalls on the popular senior twins who stumble into the hallway and die from spiked cocaine right before his eyes. Unbeknownst to him, someone was filming the scene with a cell phone.

The unknown actors are adept at their craft; combining gesticulation with dramatic facial expressions to compensate for the few lines they speak, while moments of prolonged silence or cacophonies of noise tax the auditory senses.

For example, the twin’s deaths begin with silence. They stumble from a door, collapse and writhe in agony, screaming and moaning in Robert’s arms, until once again the environment is eventually devoid of sound. The scene, viewed through the camcorder Robert leaves behind, is quickly blocked by throngs of deafening and excitedly curious students. Silence, noise, silence and even louder noise compels us to jump into the scene and wade through the wall of students to quench the irate emotion desiring to berate Robert and force an answer out of his lanky frame. It unnerved me not knowing why sitting and watching these girls die was more effective than contacting a teacher. I had to remind myself that this was just a movie.

Irritatingly inconvenient camera angles, obscure lens focuses and slow camera panning animates Antonio’s artistic emulation of, “the slow-burn pacing of Gus Van Sant,” according to the Wisconsin Film Festival summary. Despite the director’s commendable use of metaphorical imagery and repetition as an artistic piece, “Afterschool” as entertainment can be hard to sit through. A burning irate sensation builds up when the camera focuses on a faucet for several minutes before Robert leans his face under the running water.

Reminiscing about my prep school days, students would frequent the infirmary for prescription medication - Robert avoids his guidance counselor while popping medication provided by the school; students returned to school after vacations with drugs and alcohol - his jock roommate, Dave (Jeremy White, “The Speed of Life”), smuggles in drugs and alcohol for sale to other students; an exploration with sex was rampant - Robert loses his virginity to classmate, Amy (Addison Timlin, “Cashmere Mafia”). You can’t denounce Antonio’s vision of high school - sex behind bushes, masturbation and “your mom” jokes - because coming from a New Ensgland boarding school myself; he hits the prep school life dead on. No where in the brochure, before applying, does it mention the random drug searches, late night “sexcapades” in dorms, the music building or for the daring - the open fields and the favorability for students with lineage and money.

The Wisconsin Film Festival got a little taste of Scandinavia with the showing of “Fear Me Not” (Zentropa Entertainments, Denmark). As long as you don’t mind reading subtitles, the film provides a good, chilling labyrinth-like crawl into the inner workings of the human psyche. An atmosphere of cold and impersonality is set into the framework of the story, and radiates out to the entire theater. Though the action itself is sparing and just this side of lagging, the aura itself is enough to keep audiences on edge.

42-year-old Michael (Ulrich Thomsen) lives a normal, if quiet, life with his wife and daughter at the edge of a remote lake in a suburb of Copenhagen. However, his absolute boredom and frustration at his wife’s controlling tendencies drives him to try something drastic - he volunteers himself as a guinea pig in the testing of a new anti-depressant drug. Michael finds himself addicted to their liberating effects and continues to take them on the sly, even after the trial is called off and the drugs are recalled. Soon he finds himself acting in irrational, controlling ways that cause pain to his family and those around him. It is only after he has committed several disgraceful acts that his friend Frederik (Lars Brygmann), who was in charge of the trial, tells him that the pills were a placebo. Now, faced with the possibility that he is a psychopath, Michael involves himself in much self-reflection and more horrifying emotional outbreaks, all along with the audience wondering what exactly has snapped in his brain and whether he will ever return to normal.

As far as independently produced works go, this movie was top-notch. The booming sound and cool, dusky lighting were both box office quality and fit the horror genre like a glove. The character of Michael required Ulrich Thomsen to go from warm and charming to cold and controlling in a matter of seconds, a persona he matched stride for stride. Most of the suspense of the movie rode on the scenes between Michael and his wife, Sigrid (Paprika Steen), which they pulled off marvelously, leaving the audience with their heartstrings taut and the unsaid words pounding in their ears.

The only drawback to the film was the action, which was slow in coming at the beginning, with Michael’s subsequent lashing-out scenes few and far-between. The extended calm, probably meant to lull the audience into a false sense of complacency, sometimes crossed the line and lulled them to sleep. A few under-developed concepts as well, such as Michael’s plan to “gain control over his wife,” caused confusion in the audience. On a whole the audience is left somewhat unclear as to what happened within Michael, and what exactly he was trying to achieve. When the credits begin to roll, the air is wrought with unresolved issues and unanswered questions, definitely making this the type of film that requires re-watching.

These effects, though frustrating, are admittedly inherent to the psychological thriller genre. They are meant to generate suspense during the movie, and discussion afterwards. The audience finds themselves effectively engaged in the plot - an end which writers Anders Thomas Jensen and Kristian Levring surely intended. Combine this with a solid story concept, good acting, and overall impressive production, and the Wisconsin Film Festival has itself a foreign winner. Don’t let the name fool you - “Fear Me Not” is an unnerving ride. Be very afraid.

People are fighting everyday. They are fighting to keep their house, fighting to stay alive and fighting to take care of their families. And they are willing to do whatever it may take to do that.

The film, “Beauty of the Fight,” directed by John Urbano looks genuinely into two Panama barrios, Barraza and El Chorrillo, which were invaded by the United States in 1989 to capture General Manuel Noriega and left the towns in shambles. Now known as “red zones,” Urbano risked entering the gang-infested and drug trafficking area where bullets are being constantly to show the real beauty the towns possess.

Barraza and El Chorrillo are both filled with surface problems, yet Urbano successfully showed the deeper side to the criminals, to the streets, to the houses, and the people. He used many close ups of the people he interviewed to reveal the depth in each person’s eyes.

Urbano went into the homes of many people to show their living conditions for personal interviews. One person created his home on the beach with washed up items from the shore and other random materials he could find. Urbano pointed out in the film that this older man was not a pack rat, but an artist. His statement was representative to the outlook Urbano had on the towns throughout the entire film.

The movie was visually enjoyable to watch because of the saturation and vibrancy of the colors on and within the buildings. They were extremely old and looked like they could crumble at any moment, yet Urbano filmed them and showed the beauty behind each building or person.

Urbana’s unique eyes allow him to show the audience more than what most people would see if they were able to walk to streets of Barraza and El Chorrillo. Most would probably feel frightened and disgust, but not Urbano. He saw the hearts of people, individual talents, and extraordinary lives.

After the documentary was shown, Urbano answered questions. He was asked if he saw commonality between the people of this culture. He said that there is a common thread of smiles. Although the people may not have a smile on their face, every moment, there was something that would eventually make them smile. It may be a child who is playing in the streets, or a joke that makes a gang-banger crack a smile.

I enjoyed experiencing the culture of the Panama barrios through the film but was looking for the film to give more information on how to help the situation, or next step options that as an audience member, I could take.

The documentary is meant to be a presentation of the situation in Panama and to open the eyes of audiences not just about what is going on in Barraza and El Chorrillo, but to also show the deepness behind these people and these falling apart towns. After seeing it though, I was felt frustrated at mistreatment of the people and wanted to know how I could make a difference there.

The film on a whole was beautifully shot and had interesting interviewees that gave meaningful and fascinating stories of their lives and of the invasion of 1989.

Urbano created a book of photography also called “Beauty of the Fight” that has many images from his visits. For more information about the film and John Urbano, go to www.beautyofthefight.com.

The Wisconsin Film Festival's opening night flick, the yet-to-be-released "(500) Days of Summer," has all the makings of a smart romantic comedy. Dark-haired, semi-sullen male lead? Check. Eccentric heroine? Check. Brood of humorous but infinitely wise supporting cast members? Check. Check. Checkcheckcheckcheck.

Only one problem -- "(500) Days of Summer" is not a love story. Instead, according to director and Madison's own Marc Webb, this is a movie about "what happens when the life you expect collides with the life you encounter."

Nevertheless, "(500) Days of Summer" is one of the most inventive and charming movies to come our way in a while -- romance and love and everything that comes with them, be damned. At the most fundamental of levels, this movie is just as simple as Webb describes.

Tom (Joseph Gordon Levitt, "Miracle at St. Anna") is a hopeless romantic whose head has been filled with somewhat unrealistic ideas of love ever since his discovery of "depressed" British rock bands as a prepubescent.

In comes Summer (Zooey Deschanel, "Yes Man") to fulfill his lifelong dreams. Except, Summer doesn't believe in love, and thus the couple's complicated relationship unfolds. And while the story is simple -- again, boy + girl does not always = true love 4ever -- the manner in which Webb and Co. present it is the most daring and interesting aspect of this film.

At the beginning of the film, the audience gets a glimpse of the pair's final relationship destination, as the numeric relationship odometer of sorts that frequently fast-forwards or rewinds throughout the film shows (500).

From there, Tom and Summer's relationship appears to be a rollercoaster of emotion -- at least for the former -- and it's hard to keep track of the couple's emotional status, clearly reflecting the latter's love-fickle nature.

In addition to taking liberties with time and space, Webb and writers Scott Neustadter and Michael H. Weber explore the fantastical in offering insight into Tom's lovesick mind. In one spectacular scene following the couple's first night together, the city of Los Angeles comes alive to join Tom in a dream dance sequence, complete with animated blue jays. Touches such as this, as well as the unlikely soundtrack, which features everyone from The Smiths to Patrick Swayze to Regina Spektor to Carla Bruni, add a level of whimsy to the film that is touching to the utmost degree.

Also charming are the performances of Levitt and Deschanel. From the very beginning, Levitt is instantly as loveable lost in love as he is when he finds it at the end. His portrayal of a quirky young man desperate for love easily establishes him as an indie mainstay -- a far cry from his days on "3rd Rock From the Sun." And while Deschanel seems a little too astonished at the film's beginning, her character quickly grows into the wide-eyed stare coming from her baby blues.

The real intrigue of "(500) Days of Summer" doesn't necessarily stem from the fantastical; audiences will be drawn to this film time and time again because of the unique way in which such a simple story is told. In the end, Webb and his talented staff guarantee that audiences will want just one more day of summer.

4 1/2 stars out of 5