Bipolar disorder is the common ground that brings two opposites-turned-soulmates together in Touched With Fire, a cute but redundantly lyrical sanitarium romance inspired by Kay Jamison’s book “Touched With Fire: Manic-Depressive Illness and the Artistic Temperament” and the real-life experiences of writer-director Paul Dalio. Carla (Katie Holmes) and Marco a.k.a Luna (Luke Kirby) are manic-depressive poets admitted to the same psychiatric hospital where they at first can’t stand each other (naturally) but soon form a tight bond as they indulge in their shared mania and protect each other from unenlightened oppressors. The creative energy that forms between them is explosive and romantic, but when they choose to start a family, their manic tendencies begins to put their future in danger. Meanwhile, their stubborn, disapproving parents threaten to tear them apart for good.

In several ways the movie ponders the relationship between bipolar disorder and art, from Marco often referencing the legendary work Van Gogh did while manic to the couple explaining to their parents how they absorb the world in a deeper, fuller, more vivid way than normal people are capable of, which allows them to express themselves freely and unfiltered. Dalio also represents the disorder visually, using off-balance camera moves and surrealistic imagery to reflect our heroes’ mindstate. On occasion, the symbolism can be a little too plainspoken: When the couple are unwillingly separated and forbidden to see each other, Carla returns to the waiting room where they first met; we feel she’s missing Marco already, but suddenly an apparition of him appears to further emphasize her longing. The sentiment is nice and the device fits the artistry theme, but it’s a little excessive.

Dalio, who’s dealt with manic depression in his life, used battle rap as an outlet, performing under the name Luna. We see much of his personal struggle in Marco (who also battle raps under the Luna moniker) and the film’s greatest strength is that it feels passionate and personal throughout, evidently pulled directly from pivotal points of life experience. If there’s an issue with how the film ponders mental health it’s in the final acts, when the story starts to feel too studied, overly saturated by the influence of Jamison’s thesis. It’s especially jarring when the author makes an appearance as herself, meeting with the couple to discuss the dulling effects medication may or may not have on the creative process.

Movie romances often live and die by the actors’ eyes: If we don’t see that thirst in their eyes, we ain’t buying it. Holmes and Kirby, thankfully, are convincing in their desire, particularly early on in the film when they’re sneaking away to the hospital library in the middle of the night, going on manic adventures through time and space, unlocking the mysteries of the universe with childlike glee. The adventure’s all in their heads, of course, but Dalio does a nice job of bringing us into their headspace, sprawling projected images of Van Gogh’s “Starry Night” across the library walls to reflect the scope of the couple’s obsession. Moments like these, when Dalio’s visual style feels pitch-perfect, are magical.

On several occassions, Carla and Marco’s parents stage both planned and impromptu interventions, expressing insensitively their wish for the couple to stay far away from one another so as not to further enable their shared mania. The drama in these scenes sometimes works, but more often than not the confrontations feel too transparently educational, with the young actors essentially explaining their mental disorder for those of us in the audience who don’t understand it. Holmes is particularly good, though, at attempting to make the scenes feel natural with her facial expressions and subtle body movements.

When Carla and Marco are alone, running wild with the ecstasy of being unshackled from the doldrums of everyday life, Touched With Fire feels vital and flowing and engrossing. The filmmaking seems to dull, however, when the couple are on their meds and fall back down to earth. There’s no reason a film can’t stay cinematically interesting while still reflecting the internal repression of its characters and, unfortunately, coupled with the staged nature of the later dialogue, the sober segments of the story don’t quite hit home.

The Samaritan is something of an enigma to me. I honestly wasn’t expecting too much from the film as the previews really didn’t intrigue me too much. The film starts out with some promise and along with the casting choices (Tom Wilkinson and Samuel L. Jackson are two major players), I start thinking that this could actually be something worthwhile. For a while, it actually is. The Samaritan begins with a bang. Literally. The first scene has Jackson pointing a gun at a man’s head. The man begs for his life. It doesn’t work.

The film starts out with our hero, Foley (Samuel L. Jackson) who is getting out of prison after twenty plus years. Foley was a grifter and plans on starting over. He wants nothing to do with his former life. Grifting to me is a fascinating lifestyle. Your life revolves around conning people out of money. When I was younger I used to have these film noir fantasies that I, along with others, would travel the country planning elaborate cons. The great thing about being a grifter, other than the potentially vast amounts of money you could amass, is that you can essentially be who you aren’t. You got to make up biographies and be someone that you weren’t.

So Foley is now out of prison and ready to start over. He meets his parole officer and he tells Foley what every parole officer in every other movie tells him. You make one mistake you’re going back in. Foley already has no intention of going back. He is given a job at a construction site, one which he hates but takes it because anything is better than prison.

Foley spends his nights at bars drinking his ugly memories away. I experienced this first hand years ago when I worked a construction job. I myself never really hit the bars after work, but knew many who did. It’s an ugly lifestyle, although Foley has plenty more to drink about than any of my coworkers did. On one of these late nights Foley runs into a man who brings back some dark moments in his life. The man is Ethan. We find out that Ethan is the son of Foley’s ex-grifting partner. Oh yeah, he’s also the son of the man who is shot in the opening scene. Ethan doesn’t want revenge, but he does believe Foley owes him a favor. Ethan wants one more job out of Foley that will make them both rich.

Ethan insists Foley joins him at a nightclub one night. Ethan half owns the night club with another man who is a ruthless. His name is Xavier (Tom Wilkinson). Our first scene with Xavier has him shoving a broken Champaign bottle into a man’s face repeatedly. Even more relevant during this nightclub visit, Foley is offered a young woman for the night by Ethan. He declines the offer, even insulted by it.

On one of these dark and depressing nights at his favorite spot, Foley sips on his drink when all of a sudden the young woman offered to him previously walks in with a man who is heavily intoxicated. They drink more through the night and eventually make their way into the bathroom where the man tries to rape the woman. Her name is Iris. Foley comes in to save the day and now the woman is actually smitten with him.

This starts an actual very sweet part of the film. Iris and Foley begin a legitimate relationship, one that benefits them both. Foley fresh out of prison has something real to cling on to, someone who will seemingly take him away from his past. Iris a young woman addicted to drugs and is in the wrong business as a prostitute, now she has a man who genuinely loves her and not because he’s paying for it. But remember in film noir, nothing or no one is ever what they seem. There is always a dark current that runs under what is visible. The Samaritan is no different, bad things are coming.

What happens next will not be described here. The film actually has some pretty interesting twists and turns. One of them, I had no clue was coming and the handling of it is pitch perfect. What I enjoyed mostly about The Samaritan was how much the film depends on characters and their choices and not by having to fill the plot of a movie. These people make their own choices based on who they are and their wants and needs.

What makes Samaritan interesting is that it really doesn’t have a plot. It’s more or less a character study that just unfolds for 90 minutes. For the first hour of the film you just watch these characters as they are basically trying to get by, it’s not until the hour mark when something really galvanizes the movie to something remotely close to a plot. I actually kind of liked that.

One thing I’ve always struggled with film noirs is how they keep the viewers at a distance from their characters. Most characters in film noirs are bad people with bright spots. The Samaritan is no different. I’ve always found it hard to root for people when the film keeps you far from them. The film does a good job of letting you get close to a couple, but others that are important you’re left wondering why you should care for them.

What’s really unfortunate about the film is how routine it becomes. As a film noir you know certain things have to happen in order for the plot to succeed. The last 15-20 minutes of the film goes down the same old road most film noirs have gone before. It’s too bad because The Samaritan actually showed some real promise by dancing to its own tune. It’s too bad that tune becomes the same old song and dance. It’s is a miss, but not by much

Take This Waltz plays out more like a fantasy than the traditional romantic comedy it is based upon. This sophomore feature from director Sarah Polley contains an outcome that leaves you with something to chew on, but it’s attempts in quirkiness results in awkwardness. It brilliantly showed how the grass is not as green as you may think, however, in that big achievement it tripped on small things along the way.

On this particular day, everything seems to be falling in place for Margot (Michelle Williams). While on a writing assignment for a tour guide brochure, Margot has a run in with a man named Daniel (Luke Kirby). On her flight back home the two happen to not only have the same flight, but actually sit next to one another. The two openly flirt with each other in the time they spend in the air.

Margot mentions that she has a fear of connections in airports; because there is too much rushing, not knowing, and concern if you are going to make it your flight. She admits she does not like to be between things. Or the very thought of wondering if she is going to miss things. Even though she is just talking about terminals in airports, there is an obvious metaphor between relationships in her life.

After the plane lands they share a taxi only to find out he lives right across the street from her. Just when things could not get any better for the two, we find out that she has been holding back something very important. She explains that she is married to which he replies, “That’s too bad”, as he walks across the street to his house.

The very next scene we see her waking up next to her husband Lou Rubin (Seth Rogen). The two indulge in pillow talk, like most people who are in a serious relationship do. When his entire family comes over for a visit she is very engaged with everyone, especially with his sister Geraldine (Sarah Silverman). We see no reason as to why she would want leave her happy marriage with Lou, yet we see her watching across the street in search for Daniel.

All along you wonder (and for good reason if you go back to the airport metaphor) if Margot is just tired of the routine in her life with Lou. Geraldine validates the suspicion while talking to Margot and some friends about how depressing marriage life can be when you start to think about trading it all in for something new. Someone wisely states that, “New things get old”, but that seemed to go in one ear and out the other of Margot. Which is a shame because that simple line is the most important line of the film. It is also the best scene, the display of naked female bodies, both of younger and older, to bluntly represent new and old.

The beginning of Take This Waltz does not try to distance itself from a typical romantic comedy. It is not until the third act that the film ditches the contrived plot to something a bit substantial. One thing they nailed though was the ending, which mostly makes up for the dreadful start.

On more than one occasion the dialog felt off. In times when characters were in awkward parts in conversation the dialog felt forced in an unnatural way. It was like they were trying too hard at times to be awkward and quirky. Luke Kirby seemed like he was reading his lines out loud instead of acting them out. Even the talented Michelle Williams felt off at times. But aside from that, she played the part of a happily married woman who was deeply confused and depressed well.

Take This Waltz had flashes of greatness but they vanished when outlandish coincidences and bizarre dialog arise. Therefore, the film felt very inconsistent; going back and forth between oddly executed conversations, to spot-on pillow talk, making it difficult not to have mixed feelings for it. A line in the film nearly sums up my thoughts on the film as a whole, “Life has a big gap in it. You don’t try to fill it like a fucking lunatic.”