What would happen to humanity if everyone lost their ability to retain memories? That’s one of the questions Claire Carré explores with her debut feature Embers, which drops viewers into a world 10 years after a disease infects everyone with short-term and long-term memory loss. Carré splits her film up into five narrative strands, each one examining how an aspect intrinsic to our existence changes within her own dystopian vision; a couple (Jason Ritter & Iva Gocheva) wake up every day trying to remember how they know each other; a former intellectual (Tucker Smallwood) tries different ways to learn again so he can find a cure; a boy (Silvan Friedman) with no parents wanders around trying to survive on his own; a young man (Karl Glusman, credited as Chaos) filled with rage attacks everyone he encounters; and the young girl Miranda (Greta Fernandez) lives in an underground bunker with her father (Roberto Cots), safe from the disease but cut off from the world.

On the surface, Carré’s film looks like standard post-apocalyptic fare, but its tone is anything but. Shooting in Indiana, New York and Poland, Embers casts its urban decay in a bland, grey hue that should bring to mind Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, except Carré doesn’t provide her film with the same bleakness and nihilism. With no one connected to their past, the strong emotions connected to memories don’t exist anymore, leaving characters to constantly live in the moment in a somewhat peaceful state. The only exception to this is Chaos, whose violent acts take on a new meaning given they’re instinctual and without consequence. The somewhat tranquil mood amidst a dying world makes for a fascinating juxtaposition, allowing Carré the ability to weave in emotional and philosophical questions about identity and the human condition.

With a short runtime and several disconnected storylines, Embers only disappoints with its inability to coalesce on a thematic level (most segments just end abruptly). The only exception is Miranda’s storyline, as her near-decade of isolation makes her consider leaving the bunker to go live in the real world. Her father begs her not to go, telling her that once she’s infected she’ll lose everything that makes her who she is. For Miranda, it’s a complicated situation that directly addresses Carré’s question at the heart of the film, over whether or not memory is the source of our own individuality.

As indie as Sundance aims to be, Slamdance is the true indie film festival happening in Park City right now. But—and hopefully our site name gives you some idea of our knowledge in this area—the true meaning of indie means no-holds-barred (other than budget) and that can sometimes translate to some truly notable first efforts from emerging filmmakers.

Esra Saydam and Nisan Dag prove a lot of things with their first feature film Across the Sea. They’ve got a grasp on directing actors. They have avoided the pitfalls of bad pacing and unnecessary scenes or dialogue. They understand how to use natural scenery to frame their characters and situations. Granted they chose some pretty good actors, stuck to a basic but intriguing scenario, and filmed on the beautiful Aegean sea.

Across the Sea is the story of Damla (Damla Sönmez), a Turkish transplant in New York, married and 6 months pregnant with her husband Kevin’s (Jacob Fishel) child. Damla’s continued late night excursions to smoke cigarettes outside while walking the city, and sneaking wine at social events indicate that she is less than an enthused by her impending motherhood. Damla’s sister continues to reach out to her regarding the sale of their childhood home on the edge of the Aegean sea. Interested in understanding his wife more, and eager to share in her history, Kevin encourages them to visit the home one last time on vacation before it is sold. Reluctantly Damla agrees.

In Turkey Kevin starts to get the full picture of Damla’s life before moving to New York. The idyllic and gorgeous sea-side town, the local life including children constantly clothed in bathing suits and having adventures and men who congregate for soccer matches. As their vacation progresses Damla is visibly affected by the appearance of an old acquaintance, Burak (Ahmet Rifat Sungar), a local bar owner and friend to Damla’s niece. Forced to interact more and more in this small town, Kevin can’t help but start to notice the change in Damla and her reaction to Burak. When Kevin learns his name a few things become more clear: Burak is the name Damla has suggested for their unborn child. He coaxes it out of a long time friend of the family over drinks that Damla and Burak have a long and tumultous history with one another. Before their trip is through Damla is forced to face her past and make important decisions about her future.

The premise is nothing especially new. The haunting of a past and unfinished love will always make for ripe dramatic content. Saydam and Dag effectively evoke real emotion between Damla and Burak, and their chemistry on-screen makes for the film’s most dynamic scenes. But they also cast into light the rather flat contrast of Damla and Kevin’s relationship. Almost never do we see her convey much affection for him that doesn’t seem forced and insincere. Granted, her devotion to him is to be questioned, but their love triangle has one very weak angle.

The film shows real maturity in its third act when more of Damla’s history is revealed and that her aptitude for excluding details of her life doesn’t only apply to Kevin. There isn’t much that happens in Across the Sea, but its directors maintain intrigue as to what may happen, and it works well enough. Damla Sönmez is a pouty, sullen, spoiled sort of love interest, perfectly encapsulating the sort of free spirit unable to ever land properly on solid ground, always out of reach of those who love her. Ahmet Rifat Sungar is the sort of handsome brooding soul most women wish they had in their past and he makes loving Damla’s flighty mom-to-be seem plausible.

Saydam and Dag have made a film that captures genuine emotions with lovely imagery, only a hint of nostalgia, and while their film may not prove definitive amongst those of similar plot, they have proven themselves capable of capturing the basics of human emotion in a genuine and engaging way.

Idiot Plot: Any plot containing problems that would be solved instantly if all of the characters were not idiots. (From rogerebert.com)

Dan Berk and Robert Olsen, the writing/directing team behind Body, must have had the Idiot Plot in mind when they made this film. Body starts out innocently enough; friends Holly (Helen Rogers), Mel (Lauren Molina) and Cali (Alexandra Turshen) spend Christmas together at Mel’s parents, bored out of their minds. Cali tells her friends that her rich uncle happens to be away for the holidays, and comes up with the bright idea of driving over to party in his giant, empty mansion. They head off to the house, but after partying for a few hours Holly and Mel discover the house actually isn’t owned by anyone related to Cali (it actually belongs to a rich family Cali used to babysit for). Suddenly the groundskeeper (Larry Fessenden) shows up, and when he tries to stop them from escaping he breaks his neck falling down a flight of stairs.

It’s an interesting set-up, and Berk/Olsen handle the escalation from girls’ night out to manslaughter well. But then the film turns to the question of how its characters will get themselves out of this situation, and things take a sharp nosedive. Cali devises an elaborate, offensively stupid cover-up, and Holly & Mel simply go along with it. It’s obvious that Berk/Olsen want viewers to be shocked by the levels of depravity their characters go to (here’s a hint: if you found Gone Girl offensive in its portrayal of Amy Dunne, your head will fucking explode watching this). None of it really shocks or offends, though. Plenty of time gets spent on establishing the chemistry between the three friends, but as individuals they’re developed through broad strokes. It’s hard to have any reaction to these characters stomping all over morals when they barely register as people. It’s also difficult to believe in a single ounce of this film when the premise is so infuriatingly idiotic.

Granted, it’s not unreasonable for people to act stupidly in extreme situations, but in order to believe what happens in Body you have to assume these three friends never graduated preschool. The asinine situation only makes Berk and Olsen’s motivations transparent. This is a film about shock for shock’s sake. Its only priority is putting something on-screen that will piss people off (or impress die-hard genre fans into giving emphatic responses of “Sick, bro!”). It’s one of those films where its blatant attempts at being egregious wind up making it heinous for all the wrong reasons. The only offensive thing about Body is that it seriously expects people to fall for this shit.