Bluebird is a quiet, understated film from first time filmmaker Lance Edmands on the ripple-effect tragedy projects on an isolated town. Mother nature plays a vital part in the film, demonstrating her unforgiving ways extend even to the most remote and silent areas. The film is a straightforward yet honest look at how people deal with their own morality, and by treating the characters as humans instead of criminals, Edmands allows for contemplative evaluation in unexpected areas.

Winter time in Maine can be very cold, but a small logging town experiences a different kind of chill when tragedy strikes. On one particularly cold morning, Lesley (Amy Morton) notices a small bluebird fly inside the school bus she drives during her routine end-of-day cleaning. She pauses only for a moment, staring at the out-of-place bird, distracting her attention away from her duties. The next morning she realizes the severity of this distraction. As she opens the bus doors to begin her day, Lesley notices a lifeless kid near the back she failed to notice the day before. Turns out that the boy went into hypothermic shock and now remains in a coma after spending the night passed out on the frigid bus.

But is Lesley solely to blame for this misfortune? Sure, she neglected her job-related responsibilities in an honest oversight. But what about the child’s parent? After all, no calls were made about a missing boy into the school or the local police. That’s because Marla (Louisa Krause), the boy’s single parent, spends more time out partying than attending to her child, and she completely forgot about picking him up. To make the situation even sadder, Marla seems largely unaffected, feeling only a fraction of the guilt Lesley does. When Marla weeps it seems to be only because she feels guilty about not feeling enough guilt, and perhaps realizes for the first time that she doesn’t make a good parent.

Thankfully, Bluebird isn’t concerned with which character deserves the most blame. Both Lesley and Marla are equally at fault; one legally and one morally, there are no true villains in this story. Instead, the film is more about how characters deal with the aftermath of the accident. Morton’s constant state of regret makes it easy to feel sorry for her character, especially during moments when she can no longer contain her emotions. But Morton never over-dramatizes the grief her character experiences, which is difficult when the character spends the entire film in an overwhelming state of mental suffering. Krause didn’t have the luxury of playing the favorable character, but her sympathetic performance demonstrates just enough humanity to not completely condemn her. Some of the supporting characters, such as Lesley’s daughter (Emily Meade) and husband (John Slattery), don’t quite make the impact they should have, even as side characters, given the objective of exploring how one event affects multiple lives. Minor script issues aside, their performances were also commendable.

Cinematographer Jody Lee Lipes (Martha Marcy May Marlene, Tiny Furniture) captures the dreary landscapes of a desolate town on grainy 35mm film stock. Falling snow and cold breaths depict the winter season outside, while a blue-ish tint and muted aesthetics imply the coldness characters feel on the inside. These awe-inspiring visuals pair well with the moody script to create a chilling atmosphere.

Small town tragedy stories like this have been done many times before, most recently in Little Accidents, but they’re often paired with a heavy-handed lesson or the pursuit of justice through finger-pointing. Bluebird wisely side-steps these tropes by not telling us how to feel about the situation, nor forces us to choose sides. The film also expresses the underlying theme of isolation: the lone bluebird, an abandoned child, a small community surrounded by mountains, and a single parent. Edmands finds the right balance between atmospheric undertones and understated storytelling, managing to get solid performances from his cast—it’s easy to forget we’re watching the work of a first-time director.

“Found footage” has now cemented itself has a sub-genre of horror, thanks to The Blair Witch Project, Paranormal Activity, and the millions of dollars similar films to them rank in. What is not so common is a film using found footage outside the horror category, which is where Andrew Neel’s King Kelly film cascades far away from. Being that the films perspective is a young woman from the upcoming Generation Y, it only makes sense that it is shot exclusively using iPhones. It is not the first to film using this method, but it is certainly a trend that will only increase exponentially.

King Kelly is not for the easily offended and very opening scene makes that very clear. A (presumably) eighteen year-old girl named Kelly (Louisa Krause) pleasures herself on a webcam which is broadcasted to thousands of unknown watchers. Comments and well as digital coins come pouring in as she begins to climax. When she finishes, the opening credits roll while reactions to the video are conveyed via animated gifs and emoticons on a page that resembles the near-extinct MySpace page.

From there a whirlwind of hyperbolic events occur that has her chasing down her ex-boyfriend’s vehicle for the drugs she was supposed to transport. Kelly demands her best friend Jordan (Libby Woodbridge) to drive her around to find that car. She eventually exhausts her options and is forced to enlist the aid of an unlikely person.

Thankfully, King Kelly takes some unexpected turns making the outwardly frivolous plotline come full circle by its conclusion. There is no obvious indication that Kelly’s character ever fully develops out of her narcissist ways. Perhaps nothing was learned from what she encounters. But watching this young blonde pose next to a cardboard cut-out of a half-naked blonde as if she was looking up to her, provides enough irony to make it both concerning and becoming at the same time. This kind of juxtaposition is exactly what the film is all about. It showcases a superficial girl who is the authority in her own online kingdom, while at the same time a satire on the always-on generation.

The film is not meant to be taken too seriously, and given just how self-indulgent the lead character is, I am confident you are not even supposed to like her. Imagine an even raunchier Jenna Marbles having a camera with her at all times, recording her every move, including X-Rated portions. The cleverness relies mostly on the gimmicky film technique that is surprisingly effective.

King Kelly is blatantly offensive, utterly outrageous, incredibly scandalous, but it is also full of ambition and enthusiasm. While it may be a slight stretch to call the film groundbreaking, it is not far from it, even if the concept outweighs the execution. The film demonstrates that when independent filmmaking meets the generation that is constantly filming, both good and bad things can come from it. At certain times it harasses you enough to make it hard to watch. But sometimes obscene things can be intriguing; welcome to being a human.

Martha Marcy May Marlene is a haunting psychological thriller from first time filmmaker Sean Durkin, about a young woman trying to recover from her years of being part of a cult. Escaping her past is nearly impossible for her to do as one cannot simply forget about the things she was put through. The film benefited from two exceptional performances from Elizabeth Olsen and John Hawkes. It is a film that might actually be better on the second viewing.

The film opens with Marcy May sneaking out of the farm house where the people in the cult eat, sleep and work together. She tries to do so without waking up the others but she is unsuccessful. With the entire house now chasing after her she dashes across the road into the woods, there is able to hide from everyone. She escapes to a nearby town where she is able to call her sister for help.

Marcy May is not her real name, it is the name given to her by the cult leader Patrick (John Hawkes). Her real name is Martha (Elizabeth Olsen), who at first believed that the group was more like a family that aspired to be self-sufficient on the farm. It took her nearly two years before she realized that she was a part of a cult.

You can tell that Martha is having a tough time adjusting to regular society at her sister’s vacation home. She does not think to put on a bathing suit when going swimming. She puts her feet up on tables and bluntly asks her sister if it is true that married people do not have sex. The group really did a number on her mentally and physically making it hard for her to be normal again.

Martha Marcy May Marlene does a fantastic job using transitions to go between present times to flashbacks of her past. While staying at her sister’s she is often reminded of her haunted past. When going out for a swim in the lake we are seamlessly taken back to when she went swimming together with the cult members. That helps illustrate how Martha has a hard time distinguishing the past from the present. The fact that she did not really know where she was at nor for how long she was a part of the cult did not help her situation.

The biggest problem Martha has is her dependence of the people around her. This likely steamed from both of her parents dying thus she never really had proper parenting. She treated the cult like it was her family which is exactly what the cult wanted. It was incredibly easy for the cult to brainwash her into thinking what is right and wrong.

Elizabeth Olsen, sister to the famous Olsen twins, absolutely nails her first major role on the big screen. Her role demanded such a high level of emotion intensity that is normally reserved for only well-seasoned actresses. You may be able to debate other aspects of the film but her performance should be left out of any controversies.

Martha Marcy May Marlene reminded me of the last film I watched, Take Shelter, in that the building up of the suspense was the best asset. So much so that it makes the conclusion feel like it missed just a little bit. My favorite endings are ones that are ambiguous, like they both were. However, I felt like both films had opportunities to go a little further than they did.

Oddly enough, the comparisons between this and Take Shelter do not end there. In fact, the main characters in both are psychologically ill and are both extremely paranoid. The pair would make a great double feature, you could call it “Paranoia Plentiful”.

You would not ever assume while watching Martha Marcy May Marlene that both the director and lead actress were making their debuts, which is pretty impressive on both accounts. There is plenty of interpretation to be done as the director leaves enough unanswered questions to make you come up with your own conclusion.