By Lance St. Laurent

After some brief words from the mayor of Little Rock, this year’s festivities roared out of the gate with Short Term 12, a high watermark for any film to top this year. Starring Brie Larson (21 Jump Street) and directed by LRFF alumnus Destin Cretton (I am not a Hipster), Short Term 12 takes place at the titular foster care facility, a place where the lives of damaged children intersect with those adults dedicated enough to help the kids pick up the pieces. As the head of the foster care staff, Larson is surprisingly adept at both the heavy drama and moments of levity that make Short Term 12 such a delight, and she’s surrounded by a crew of wonderful actors, many of whom are unknowns and children.

It’s Cretton who makes the film shine, though. His sensitive direction, gorgeous camerawork, and beautifully constructed script are the heart and soul of the film. Without ever becoming muddled or unfocused, Cretton crafts a film that somehow balances the many stories that intersect within the facility. Even the smallest plot threads find time to develop to a satisfying narrative arc that gives the film a beautiful sense of closure so lacking in many independent films. Short Term 12 will be released domestically later this year, so seek it out if given the chance.

On the other end of the spectrum, we have Good Night, one of the three films I took in during the festival’s first full day. Sean H.A. Gallagher directs a cast of mostly unknown actors (with the exception of Alex Karpovsky of Girls fame) in a trite, borderlineĀ  unwatchable exercise of bad taste. On her 29th birthday, Leigh (Adriene Mishler) gathers a party of her friends to make two announcements. One, that her leukemia has returned and two, that the birthday cake they all just ingested was laced with marijuana. These two announcements represent a tonal conflict at the heart of the film, leading the film to oscillate wildly between maudlin, insincere drama and forced attempts at comedy. Most of the cast is unremarkable, even outright bad at times, and the plot hinges on twists and contrivances as predictable as they are misguided. Throw in an uninteresting visual palette and a dour ending that owes royalty checks to Milos Forman and Michael Haneke, and you have yourself one disastrously bad film. Good Night is unlikely to ever get screenings outside of festivals, but still one to avoid.

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