Two worth streaming on Netflix: Bill Oliver's original sci-fi drama, JONATHAN, and Maya Forbes' so-American comedy, THE POLKA KING

I finally caught up with THE POLKA KING, a very charming and often tone-perfect American immigrant comedy directed and co-written (with Wally Wolodarksy) by Maya Forbes. If you are a fan of Jack Black, you will not want to miss this unusual film which details the very up and down career of Jan Lewan, the born-in-Poland but more-famous-in-Pennsylvania band leader specializing in polka and (on the side) Ponzi schemes. Mr. Black, just as he did in Richard Linklater's wonderful Bernie, plays an uber-positive, you-can-do-it! character with

such truthfulness and care that he almost makes lying and cheating seem like a kind of blessing.

Ms Forbes, shown at right, with Black's huge help, gets very close to just right the tone of the film: an American immigrant story of a white male with an uber-positive attitude bent of achieving success by hard work (and whatever else it might take) at any cost.

This isn't really satire. Instead, it's

life from the viewpoint of its protagonist. And Black (shown above) makes it funny, of course, but more importantly, he makes it genuine. You may cringe -- depending on your musical tastes -- at the performances here, but neither Forbes nor Black are making fun of the musicians or their audience. Consequently, you can understand the popularity, in Pennsylvania at least, of this let's-include-a-bear in-our-act! oddity.

Jenny Slate (above, center) is good as Mrs. Lewan, but it's Australia's Jacki Weaver (above, right) who pretty much steals the supporting scene as Lewan's mother-in-law. Just how versatile and fun is this marvelous actress? (Check out the Secret City series on Netflix for further evidence.) Robert Capron is sweet and sterling as Lewan's grown son, while Jason Schwartzman does a surprising and (as usual) very fine turn as the most important band member. The rest of the well-chosen cast contribute much to the movie's sense of authenticity and Americana.

The story itself here is rather staggering in its own quiet, comic and a little sad way, and the final shots of the real characters doing their thing are fun, too. A Netflix original, the movie's been streaming since January. Try to catch it if you're able.

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If you're a sci-fi fan and also enjoy the quieter, subtler incarnations of this genre, be sure to see JONATHAN, now streaming on Netflix and featuring a simply stunning dual performance (it grows ever stronger as the movie proceeds) by Ansel Elgort, yet another actor who keeps surprising us with his versatility (Baby Driver, anyone? TrustMovies is more than primed to see him play Tony in the new version of West Side Story.) 

As directed and co-written by Bill Oliver, the story idea seems  

initially a rather simple one in which two separate brothers inhabit the same body, taking turns living their lives in twelve-hour segments each. How this has come about, how their lives are now lived out, and what finally happens to the brothers, Jonathan and Jon, is delivered with surprising gracefulness and subtlety, thanks to Oliver's touch (this is the director's first full-length film) and the dedicated, riveting performance by Elgort, shown below. The details of the brothers' work and play lives are handled very well, and most questions you'll raise should be properly laid to rest by film's end.

The two leading supporting players are Suki Waterhouse as the young woman with whom both Jons become involved and the ubiquitous and consistently wonderful Patricia Clarkson (below, left) as the doctor responsible for the creation and care of the brothers.

By the time you reach the extremely moving finale of this unusual film -- it's one that manages to avoid sentimentality while rocking you to your core -- between Jonathan and a cab driver, you may realize that you've just witnessed something quite special, with a performance you're likely to remember for a long time to come.

By now we've seen too many movies that tackle multiple identities within the same person (Split has got to be the showiest -- and silliest -- of the bunch.) This one is not only different; it's by far the best of the lot. Released theatrically in the fall of last year to mostly good reviews, Jonathan is streaming now on Netflix. Try it.

Robert Edwards' ONE MORE TIME brings Christopher Walken back to his musical roots

Did you know that Christopher Walken began his career as a Broadway chorus boy? TrustMovies didn't realize this until much after the fact, even though he actually saw Walken in the Noel Coward/Bea Lillie musical High Spirits back in 1964. Now, here the guy is again, singing (but not dancing) in the smartly written and relatively entertaining dysfunctional family film, ONE MORE TIME, from writer/director Robert Edwards. As usual, Mr. Walken has "got it," singing as well as he acts and fitting perfectly into the excellent ensemble Edwards has created.

The filmmaker, pictured at left, proves especially good with dialog, turning out a number of choice moments, all of which are handled beautifully by his cast. From a one-night-stand in which his protagonist, Jude (Amber Heard, below, left) leaves her bedmate suddenly and to his mild consternation, to the following scene at a music studio and then to those that take place in the Hamptons, providing us with the family that seems to grow more dysfunctional scene by scene, Mr. Edwards embeds his necessary exposition very lightly and cleverly, while letting quiet little zingers fly.

Jude is the talented daughter of a famous crooner Paul Lombard, né Lippman (played by Mr. Walken, above, right, and below), who is still fondly remembered by folk who love romantic ballads but has done nothing new for quite some time. Down on her luck, finances, love life and all else, Jude crashes at Dad's house, to his unexpressed-but-still-there pleasure, though not particularly to that of the rest of the family.

This would include Paul's current wife Lucille (Ann Magnuson), Jude's sister Corinne (Kelli Garner), Jude's brother-in-law and ex-bedmate, Tim (Hamish Linklater), and he and Corinne's eight-year-old son, David (the thankfully un-cute Henry Kelemen).

Add to this Paul's lawyer, played by Oliver Platt, also a one-time bedmate of Jude (the girl gets around, and usually to not very appropriate places). Feelings emerge and are put back into storage, small events occur, and just maybe a little change is in store by film's end. Edwards never pushes too hard; his cast proves first-rate; and there is some pleasant music along the way: one pretty good song from Paul (his comeback, he hopes) and a couple of nice ones via Jude.

In addition to his smart dialog, the filmmaker is good with quiet, even silent, moments that reveal character, and he gifts each of his cast members with a juicy scene or two (there's a particularly nice one between Garner--shown below--and Magnuson late in the game). Heard's character is almost destructive enough to lose us, but the actress helps make us care, and Walken, who at this point in his career, need only to open his mouth and those wide protuberant eyes to make a fine impression, does that and lots more. Platt is, as ever, on the mark; it's great to see Magnuson (above, left) in a good role again; and Linklater comes through with his graceful, easy charm and appeal.

Nothing major here, but as dysfunctional family films go, this one is actually a pleasant ride. And its got music, too! From Starz Digital and running 97 minutes, One More Time (a very tired title, need we say) opens tomorrow, Friday, April 8, in New York City at the AMC Empire 25 and in Los Angeles at Laemmle's Playhouse 7 and Music Hall 3. Simultaneously with its limited theatrical release, the movie will also be available via VOD.

Reuben Atlas' BROTHERS HYPNOTIC tells of a literal "band" of brothers, its history and music

How to be "indepen-dent"? That's a tricky one, and it's a question that the new docu-mentary, BROTHERS HYPNOTIC, addresses in ways that are both obvious and discreet. After playing festivals -- Los Angeles to SxSW, Hot Docs to Urbanworld -- this popular audience favorite via first-time filmmaker Reuben Atlas (shown below) is having its worldwide theatrical premiere this coming week, here in New York City at Maysles Cinema.

The first thing you may notice about the film is how quickly you're captured by the "sound" these brothers make. It's original, beautiful and, yes -- a little "hypnotic." And when, very soon, someone makes the point, "Anything that's worth anything lasts long!" you'll realize why you're listening perhaps a bit more keenly than usual. There are things worth hearing and considering here.

We're introduced to the "brothers" early on (a few of them are shown below), with a total of maybe seven in all. That count keeps climbing as the movie meanders forward. Finally, all told, there seem to be 16 boys, seven girls, three moms and a dad -- Philip Cohran, an old-time liberal, anti-establishment fellow possessing both musical talent and the sort of school-of-life-and-hard-knocks bona fides that have earned him permanent respect, from his family and much of the world-at-large. Phil's love for and talent at music, as well as his having to live and work as a Black American before, during and after the Civil Rights movement of the 1960s, has given the man a distinct lack of trust of any-thing remotely "establishment."

All of this Phil Cohran has managed to instill pretty heavily into his sons, too, and so Mr. Atlas -- over four years time and traveling with the brothers across four different countries -- shows us this troupe at work and in performance (on the streets, in concerts), amassing a large following that includes the likes of Mos Def, Prince, and Earth Wind & Fire, and trying to come to terms with the possibility of success.

The big question of the film is whether or not that success will be on the Hypnotic Brothers' own terms (and those of their dad, shown above) or more the terms of the establishment. What is clear, from the beginning and all the way through the film, is that these guys have immense talent and willpower. As well as, to some extent, needs and ambitions perhaps somewhat different from those of their dad -- who always insisted that the kids' primary result of their music should be given back to the Black community from which they all sprang.

Mr. Atlas seems to hone to the fly-on-the-wall aspect of documentary film-making, keeping himself out of the picture as much as possible. He also prefers to show rather than tell. The result has both accomplishments and drawbacks. Consequently, though we get the sense that all is not super-crispy in terms of the family's needs and desires, we are generally left out of any discussions of any depth (if these even occur; it's hard to tell).

At one point, the group fires its long-time agent and goes with a new fellow. Why? How did this happen? Was there heavy disagreement? We never know. We hear quite a bit about (and a little bit from) Dad, the three moms takes turns speaking, and some of the brothers are clearly more talkative than others (or maybe were given permission to be).

The sisters don't figure much here, it seems. Feminism -- as some of us know it, at least -- does not appear applicable. (Also, chances are that, out of the 27 people in this family, one or two of them might by gay or lesbian. But of course that never surfaces, either.)

At one point, the brothers are offered a contract with Atlantic Records. In most music documentaries, this moment would be the climax of that long road traveled toward success. Not with this family. And yet, even this opportunity, which comes knocking yet again, is hardly lost. (I suspect that the talent level here is so immense that the Hypnotic Brothers can get away with stuff that other groups wouldn't think of trying.)

Toward the end of this consistently interesting, occasionally frustrating film, one of the moms explains that what she gets from the boys is "a message of unity." I got that, too, but I'd call it somewhat "enforced" unity. Though I'm not quite sure who the enforcer(s) is (or are).

Brothers Hypnotic begins its week-long theatrical run at Maysles Cinema, as part of the popular Documentary in Bloom series, this coming Monday, March 24, through Sunday, March 30. Special note: Director Reuben Atlas and members of the Hypnotic Brass Ensemble will participate in post-film Q&As following the sscreening on Friday, March 28 and Saturday, March 29. 

Malik Bendjelloul's SEARCHING FOR SUGAR MAN: most important film of the year so far

That truth can be stranger -- more powerful and more wonderful -- than fiction gets a good going over (the best I've seen in a long time) with the documentary SEARCHING FOR SUGAR MAN from Scandinavian filmmaker Malik Bendjelloul. This movie, ostensibly about the search for what really became of a folk-rock singer from the 1960s/70s who is said to have committed suicide by burning himself to death in front of a live audience, raises all kinds of and so many interesting questions, more than it could possibly answer. Yet you can't watch the film without having these questions pop up, together with their answers, some of which the documentary provides, others that you yourself will piece together, even as you heart soars and your eyes well up and then rather copiously spill over. As mystery, history, social commentary and more, this is one eye-opening, mind-expanding, spellbinding film.

The filmmaker, Mr. Bendjelloul (shown at left) begins with a pleasant but unknown song on the soundtrack, as we drive along a beautiful, mountainous coastal highway in present-day South Africa and learn a bit about this fellow named Rodriguez. Then it's back to 1960s Detroit and the club scene there, as some guys who were part of the music industry back then talk about their discovery of this song-writer/singer/guitarist, shown below, who liked to stay in the shadows and always wore dark glasses.

These industry people were certain they had found a performer as good, important and original in his way as was Dylan. "Nobody else but Dylan was doing anything this good," notes one of them. (In this section, Benjelloul offers his own animated version of 60s Detroit, one of several times in which animation is used most interes-tingly.) In any case, these music people persuade Rodriguez to make a album of his material, which he does. It flops. Nobody hears it (outside of a few music industry professionals), so nobody buys it. Finito. One of those pros, below, thinks it's good enough to warrant a second album, so he produces one. (We hear from him now, retired, and living in Palm Springs.)

Soon after, in South Africa, during the height and heartlessness of Apartheid, those albums make their way to the southern tip of the dark continent, where, bootlegged, they become the byword for disaffected youth of South Africa and, in their own way, weapons against Apartheid.

From here, this marvelous story grows richer and deeper, as a few musicians and/or musicologists (above and below) determine to discover just what happened to Rodriguez. That suicide-by-fire story is crap, we're told. No, he pulled out a gun on stage and shot himself. These people pour over the man's lyrics to find clues (the city of Dearborn is one such), and when they hit a dead end, they just try again. "To a detective, " one tell us, "an obstacle is an inspiration!"

What they find is the occasion for all that joy and those tears, as well as for more of the ideas and questions that keep cropping up. The word "hero" is never mentioned, I believe, but if Rodriguez is not a true American hero, then there is no such thing. Of course he himself would never use the word nor admit to this. But given what we learn, there is plenty of reason to honor someone like him rather than the usual suspects (politicians of any stripe or, god help us, the Donald Trumps of the world).

We also learn how true art survives and grows, and about how little we really knew of South Africa under Apartheid -- even given Lionel Rogosin's attempt with Come Back Africa. And why didn't those two albums succeed here on their home ground? This implicates not only consumers who barely got word of the works but our revered guardians of culture -- the critics -- as well as all those who might have given the albums radio play. What? Was there not enough payola circulating to make it worth anyone's time and effort.

Oh, yes: And what happened to the money from the sales of all those albums in South Africa? Someone made a lot of lucre, and it wasn't Rodriguez. As I say, there are questions here aplenty, but it is to the movie-maker's credit that he allows them all to surface without feeling hell-bent to answer each.  Searching for Sugar Man will have you considering so much about life in America (and elsewhere), about the uses of art and performance, about work and the work ethic, about family and history and what is worth honoring in this world of ours that I think you simply must see it.

From Sony Pictures Classics -- the distributor that often has the lock on Best Foreign Film; this year it might have the Best Documentary, as well -- and running just 85 minutes, Searching for Sugar Man hits theaters in New York (the Lincoln Plaza Cinema and the Angelika Film Center) and Los Angeles (The Landmark) this Friday, July 27. It'll be opening around the country starting next week and over the coming months. Click here to see all the currently scheduled playdates, with cities and theaters.

The Adlons' MAHLER ON THE COUCH opens -- cute comeback for Bagdad Cafe director

First seen as the 2011 NYJFF's opening night (opening afternoon, too) selection, MAHLER ON THE COUCH, from the father/son film-making team of Percy and Felix O. Adlon, is admirable for a number of reasons. Primarily it will -- due to its cinematic smarts, humor and energy -- help rid us film buffs of memories of that ridiculous, 2001 attempt, Bride of the Wind, to provide a movie about Alma and Gustav Mahler. Interestingly enough, what the two films have most in common is one important actor -- Johannes Silberschneider -- who, in Bride, played the role of Alma's earlier love, her piano tea-cher Alexander von Zemlinsky, whom Alma gave up to be with Gustav. In Couch, Herr Silberschneider (shown below, right) gradu-ates to the great man himself. And a damn good Mahler he makes.

The Adlons (shown at right, with Felix on the left) begin their movie with a charmingly imagined meeting between Mahler and Sigmund Freud (according to Freud's journals, a meeting actually took place), in which the composer, who has already cancelled two earlier meetings, now tries -- after Freud asks him his first personal question -- to wiggle out of this one, too. The daddy of all shrinks, however (played quite well by Karl Markovics, below, right) won't let him off so easily. The proverbial -- and titular -- couch is not used initially. Instead the two men walk around the grounds and then into town, as Mahler relaxes into reminiscing. Whereupon flashbacks appear, and keep appearing throughout, coupled to direct addresses to the camera by a number of subsidiary characters from Alma's mom and dad to Gustav's sister and others, as they fill us in on everything from history to gossip.

All this handled with a surprisingly light touch and enough humor and wit, particularly in the scenes between Mahler and Freud, to keep us amused and entertained, as we slowly enter the not-so-happy lives of this fabled pair. The filmmakers keep their cameras moving, ever alert for details of the active life, especially in the scene of Alma's and her mother's first visit backstage at the opera house. Later we watch a musicale, below, in attendance at which are the most prominent exes of both Gustav and Alma. Again, there is boundless energy and life on display.

As to the veracity of much of what we see, "Are you making this up?" Freud asks Mahler at one point in a flashback sequence, and so the Adlons very cleverly hedge their bets. For if the master questions the story, we don't have to. As the flashbacks grow longer, the time spent with Freud grows less. Initially, we miss this; finally, as we're pulled ever farther into the lives of Alma and Gustav, we don't.

As good as is Silberschneider as Mahler, newcomer Barbara Romaner (at left) is ever better as Alma. Romaner brings all the complications of a real woman to the role: She's needy, smart, sexual, selfish, ambitious, loving and wild. We see her initially as the lover of Walter Gropius (played by Friedrich Mücke, below). This is the affair that appears to bring on Mahler's need for therapy, but it is Mahler's letter to Alma, early on in the relationship, that acts as the catalyst for her change and growth. In it, he tells her that it is his work that counts; hers is paltry. He needs a wife. The movie is feminist simply by virtue of being true to its time.

We've also seen, in so many earlier films, the artist in the doldrums of composition, the pangs of composition, as the composer is surrounded by reams of blank or wrong-headed pages. But here, given to us in the midst of all else -- sexual passion, therapy, death, music and more -- it works anew. Perhaps the most moving scene is Alma's simple declaration of herself as being in, a part of, Mahler's music. By the finale, you'll realize that, above all, the film is a kind of love story. And a good one. It's a good bio-pic, too.

Mahler on the Couch, opens today in New York City at the FSLC, Elinor Bunin Munroe Film Center.  Click here for showtimes. I hope the movie will make its way around the country to a few other major cities. If not, perhaps a DVD or streaming option is in the works....

Scott Rosenbaum's THE PERFECT AGE OF ROCK 'N' ROLL opens, as yet another musical icon bites the dust....

The ironically titled motion picture opening this week -- THE PERFECT AGE OF ROCK 'N' ROLL -- refers to that particular age, 27, at which so many of our icons in the music world, from Henricks and Joplin to Morrison and Cobain, drop dead. Last week we lost yet another one -- Amy Winehouse -- who departed at, yep, 27 years of age. In writer/director/
producer Scott Rosenbaum's new film, however, the icon -- a certain over-the-hill legend named Spyder -- has made it way past that witching year. As the movie begins, in fact, the old fart is being paid a visit by a crack young journalist (the always good Lukas Haas, below) in hopes or retrieving one of those "what-the-hell-happened?" stories, full of snoop and scoop. As our legendary performer proves something of a musical Sammy Glick, you might call this film, "What Makes Spyder Crawl?"

The answer to that question is among the several things that the movie gives us, as it backtracks to a time two decades previous, as Spyder (a sexy, Goth-i-fied Kevin Zegers, shown in photo at bottom) returns to his hometown to entice his best friend and former songwriter Eric (a sweetly soured Jason Ritter, shown two photos below) to take a road trip with him and his crew that will result in the finishing of a long-awaited third album by his group The Lost Souls. (Their first was a smash, the second one bombed.)

Luckily, Mr. Rosenbaum, shown at right, has not tried to include too much in his rock'n'roll movie. His ambitions are rather small, really: Just tell a story and give us some good music and a handful of relatively interesting, if a bit shop-worn, characters. But because he and his cast get so many details right, his film, for the most part, works surprisingly well. And while music is the engine that runs the thing, the movie comes complete with its own understated anti-drugs-and-alcohol message.

The time of the interview is now, and though 1971 is the year of Spyder's and The Lost Souls' great success, we hear about that only in bits and pieces. 1991 is when most of the story takes place, and we see how Spyder entices Eric into taking that road trip, along with his manager, Rose (Taryn Manning) and August (Peter Fonda), the old friend of Eric's late father, who was also a musician. New songs are composed, old ones sung, one romance begins as another rekindles. Things move along pleasantly, with the occasional argument and/or fight over what-you-did-to-me-back-then, until.... something happens.

Rosenbaum manages to capture a nice sense of melancholy, which hangs over much of the movie -- a legitimate feeling for films dealing with past and present time frames (or in this case: past, further past and present), as characters, as well as us viewers, grieve for opportunities missed and loves lost.

The performances are quite good, which shouldn't surprise anyone who has followed the careers of old-timers like Fonda (above, right), middle-timers like Kelly Lynch (below, left -- who plays his old flame) and Lauren Holly (above, left, as Eric's mom), and relative newcomers like the terrific Zegers (whose work includes Transamerica, Gardens of the Night, Fifty Dead Men Walking, The Stone Angel and Frozen, to name a few of his 65 credits) and Ritter (so varied and fine in Peter and Vandy, Good Dick and The Education of Charlie Banks). Ms Manning, below, left (from White Oleander, Hustle & Flow), an actress whose work I know less, acquits herself well, limning an interesting portrait of a woman at the cusp of middle age with one life behind her and a possible new one awaiting. Fonda is, as usual of late, aces, as is Ms Lynch. The two of them, with but a quick scene or two, make lovely emotional music together.

There's a wonderful scene somewhere in the middle of all this, shown below, in which Spyder and Eric pay a visit to a blues club and jam with a starry group of oldsters. This scene, as well as others that involve music, are done with enough love and appreciation to please aficionados, as well as those for whom music means simple enjoyment. Toward the finale we're treated to one of those standard "in flagrante delectable" scenes involving drugs and sex and oh-my-goodness that make us fear that the film will end in an all-too-typical and untoward melodramatic flourish of wayward, musical youth. But even here Mr. Rosenbaum surprises us, exhibiting a little class, along with a subtle, melancholic ending. And using Jeff Buckley's version of Dylan's I Shall Be Released over the end credits is, well, inspired.

Opening this Friday, August 5, The Perfect Age of Rock 'n' Roll, from Red Hawk Films, can be seen in New York at the Village East Cinema. Click here to find other cities, dates and theaters-- which the web site promises will be coming soon (though it has been saying just that for days now. Get with it, webmaster!)