Written and directed by Andrea Arnold

Starring: Kate Dickie, Tony Curran, Martin Compton and Natalie Press

113 min.

By way of resurrecting cinema through self discipline, a band of Danish filmmakers led by Lars Von Trier gathered together in the spring of 1995 to devise the Dogme95 manifesto.

The collective insisted that contributing filmmakers take a “vow of chastity” by resisting technological trappings and generic constrictions. All films to receive Dogma’s certificate of approval must comply with a definite set of blueprints: location shooting, direct sound recording and hand-held camerawork were just some of the requirements.

Depending on who you ask, Dogme95 was either hailed as visionary theorizing or shrugged off as little more than a publicity stunt. After more than a decade, Dogme95’s official Web site lists a scant 185 films (including the promising The Christopher Walken Cook Book) that received certification.

Early in 2003, Von Trier, along with his Zentropa Films colleagues Lone Scherfig and Anders Thomas Jensen, visited the Glasgow Film Office. Out of this meeting emerged the Advance Party concept, a way of filmmaking that involved three directors crafting individual scripts concerning the same characters.

According to the press notes: “The films take place in Scotland, but apart from that the writers are free to place their characters anywhere according to geography, social setting or ethnic background. … All of the characters must appear in all of the films. The various parts will be cast with the same actors in the same parts in all of the films.”

While parts two and three seem to have stalled, Red Road, the Advance Party’s first production, opens this Friday in San Diego. Forget about spiders and pirates: Here’s my vote for the official kick off of this summer’s movie season.

Seated before a bank of video monitors, Jackie (Kate Dickie) has a perfect rear window view of a limited section of Glasgow. A small scale Orwellian Big Sister, Jackie works in the City Eye surveillance room, ostensibly hired to spot and report crimes before they happen.

Most of her days are spent watching people and their pets (dogs are used as an amusing running motif) or a cleaning lady bopping along with her iPod. Jackie is never more satisfied than when watching her little dramas unfold from screen to screen.

Away from her electronic passing parade, Jackie lives a lonely, distressed existence. Once a week, she meets up with a co-worker for a quick fuck in his van. That seems to be the only form of human interaction Jackie is capable of experiencing.

She begrudgingly accepts an invitation to attend her sister-in-law’s wedding, and it’s here that the film begins to take on an air of mystery. Jackie wears a wedding ring, but where is her husband? There is also a very awkward moment with her father-in-law, Alfred (Andrew Armour), after the reception. Did he once make untoward advances? Perhaps he blames her for the breakup, if indeed there was one.

One day, Clyde (Tony Curran), a red-headed roughneck, enters a monitor, and Jackie is thrown for a loop. Is Clyde her estranged husband? Perhaps he’s an assailant that helped put Jackie in her current state of emotional despair. Borrowing a page from Blow Up and The Conversation, Jackie decides to enter the mystery.

Writer/director Andrea Arnold may have missed her calling as a Vegas dealer. It has been a long time since I’ve seen a director play her cards this close to her vest. Ms. Arnold’s hand will not be fully revealed until the last five minutes of the film.

Hitchcock despised mysteries. How many Charlie Chan films survive repeat viewings? Once the killer is revealed, what’s the point of revisiting the film? The real mystery should never be whodunit, but why they did it. In that sense, Red Road is a mystery we can all live with.

Rating:

Directed by Nimrod Antal

Written by Mark L. Smith

Starring: Kate Beckinsale, Luke Wilson, Frank Whaley and Ethan Embry

80 mins. In CinemaScope

Vacancy was not screened for the critics, so I hope it’s not too late to recommend this intelligent, unpredictable and fairly frightening Hollywood spook show.

Kate and Luke play a bickering married couple whose car breaks down forcing them to spend the night in an out-of-the-way Santa Clarita motel.

The first clue that something’s afoul comes from the manager, played by a painfully gaunt Frank Whaley. Didn’t the couple ever see Psycho? Whaley’s Norman Bates-like demeanor should have sounded an instant warning to sleep in their car.

It turns out that Frank has one of the rooms equipped with video surveillance equipment, and those unfortunate to stay there become the stars of a snuff film.

Perhaps the film’s biggest shock comes when a character takes three bullets and actually remains dead; nothing short of a sequel could bring this guy back.

Of all the miserable horror films that studios get behind, it is hard to understand why Sony had no faith in Vacancy. With a Nimrod at the helm, how bad can it be? Sniff around the back end of either Horton Plaza or the Gaslamp; hopefully the film lasted another week.

Rating:

Directed by Ray Lawrence

Written by Beatrix Christian

Starring: Laura Linney, Gabriel Byrne, Chris Haywood and Deborra-Lee Furness

123 min. in CinemaScope

Four friends in South Wales hang up the “Gone Fishin’” sign and head out for a weekend of angling. The catch of the day turns out to be a nude, 19-year-old Aborigine girl floating face down in the water.

It’s a no brainer, right? You call an end to the male bonding party, pack up the beer and head to the nearest police station. Or, if one of the men has a twisted ankle, have him and a chum keep watch while the other two fetch help.

If neither of these resolutions is available, the filmmakers had better concoct a damn good excuse for four grown men tethering a dead body to the shore while they continue casting.

The only evidence given is a shot of Gabriel Byrne holding up his first catch and sporting a she-might-be-cold-but-the-fishing-is-hot grin. It’s not enough.

When word spreads throughout the local community the men are instantly branded social outcasts. Rocks fly through windows and Byrne’s mechanic’s shop is given a fresh coat of graffiti.

Vicious accusations begin to fly: If the victim was a white male, would they have kept on fishing? Did any of the men sexually molest the corpse? A female cop hints that the young victim may have been asking for it.

As Byrne’s wife, Laura Linney once again hands in a letter perfect performance, but even she can’t fill the gaps in her character’s brazen logic. She will attempt to single-handedly amend her husband’s ignorance, but what hospital in any civilized country would allow a stranger free access to the morgue?

With its slow, unmotivated pans across the wilds of scenic Australia, a soundtrack comprised of guttural chants and hums and slow fades to black, the film cries out to be taken seriously as an art film. The steady (and literary) fades will eventually make nifty chapter stops on the DVD release.

Rating: