In case you fail to notice during the closing credits of the film, it’s worth noting that this English-language film is the work of Madrid’s ILION Animation Studios—which may well account for the freshness of their work. The film is the inaugural production of the studio, which was a spinoff of Pyro, a computer games manufacturer. This is all the more remarkable as the film in no way feels inspired by (or aimed at leveraging) the games market. Too bad we can’t say the same for many of our mega-budget Hollywood films. I really look forward to more from ILION. I know: it’s European. But really… that’s okay! Most of us used to be, too.

Capitalism: A Love Story is classic Michael Moore… which is to say, this is not his best work. It is unevenly entertaining, hopelessly skewed, yell-at-the-screen infuriating (for a number of reasons), and yet still largely compelling, just like the vast majority of Moore’s films. As Jeff Walls noted in his review of the theatrical release, “there’s no denying [Moore] knows how to make his case in a strong and entertaining way.” The film is certainly worth seeing; but it only tells part of the story. If you like what you find here, take the next step. Get serious. And remember: Michael Moore is an entertainer at heart. And that, my dear friends, is why he (and the rest of us!) likes Wally Shawn.

If this film was intended to make me feel like a compulsive liar—which, perhaps, I am; it’s hard to tell what the truth actually is after seeing this film—then Steven Soderbergh succeeded brilliantly. If the point was pretty much anything else at all… well, better luck next time. Just about everything connected with the film feels like a fabrication, artificial to the core. Still, it’s likely that this frothy concoction plays exactly as Soderbergh intended from the get-go. What The Informant! doesn’t offer much of, unfortunately, is any insight into the nature of truth, or truth-telling. Unless…

What many viewers may miss is the chance the movie provides for a glimpse into our own not-too-distant cultural past. In cultures that place far less value on leisure that ours does today, children have always represented a blessing styled as “a quiver full of arrows” by the Old Testament—but not because they are merely so many little bundles of joy. For most of human history, that blessing has been very utilitarian in nature: a means to a family’s livelihood, hands to work the fields. And history is rife with examples of parents who have simply run away because they find themselves unable to cope with the pressures of feeding them.

Clyde Shelton’s rage of injustice in Law Abiding Citizen (and our reaction to it) is fueled by the sense that Clarence Darby, the primary perpetrator, isn’t getting what he deserves. On a purely secular level, I get that; but on a broader moral level, none of us get what we deserve. In fact, most of us expend a great deal of daily energy trying to find ways of circumventing our very own laws, and conceptually (read: begrudgingly) agreeing that we will “be accountable for our actions,” as Shelton wishes, only if we are caught red-handed. But when somebody does something really wrong (read: breaking those laws with which we actually agree), by God we want them to pay.

At every step along the way Blood Done Sign My Name avoids the triumphalist tone of so many civil rights films. Not once do you get the impression that this is one of those “one act changed everything forever” stories. Instead it recognizes that the progression toward racial equality was—and remains—a two-step-forward, one-step-back proposition. It’s a good thing that we don’t get to the end of the film thinking that everything’s gonna be rosy. The strength of Stuart’s film lies not in legal ramifications but in human ramifications. These will keep you hooked through the two-plus hour running time, and will leave you feeling inspired and satisfied even if the last twenty minutes come off as rather perfunctory.

This is a much better-looking film than the original. The skating sequences—particularly the heroine’s finals-qualifying routine to Stravinksy’s “Firebird Suite”—are exquisitely moving and beautifully choreographed, and the loving photography of the winter Iowa countryside is stunning. Unfortunately, the story invests so much energy in this authenticity that Lexi’s character never really comes alive as a person—and the central conflict is established so late in the proceedings that the film’s rising action becomes rushed and perfunctory. I’m afraid that the skating ultimately trumps the characters and the story.

As much as the project wants to be hip and edgy, I just found it annoying—mostly due to the visual style, which melds a low-def video source with rough-hewn quasi-animation to produce compact video that imitates, after a fashion, comic-book art. I found myself making choices that would just conclude things quickly—and succeeded wonderfully, my own ending coming after a scant 35 minutes. Whew! I was really fearing I’d end up in the four-hour version. Those who are searching out something new for newness sake might be interested in this release; but claims that the film will change the way we think of interactive video are overstated.

As this spare and painful film charts its course through years of tribunals and appeals toward a final, grudging, capitulation of forgiveness, we might ask ourselves what good can possibly come of such unspeakably horrific peace. To paraphrase and co-opt what one of the Tutsi women asks about one of the Hutu perpetrators: Is the point to move us? To soften our hearts? Is that even possible? Reconciliation, at the purely human level, is a necessary evil; but it does not bring healing if merely human. In fact, lingering resentments over such things make the gory madness of Inglourious Basterds—or the slaughter of the Old Testament and the Crusades—look positively reasonable.

It’s not a stretch to imagine James Cameron himself as the techo-geek who finally achieves what Cromwell’s Canter does in Surrogates. If we get depressed because we can’t stay in Pandora, why not develop the technology to make that very thing possible? If reality can’t be made to work for eight billion people, why not deliver the ultimate opiate to the masses? Surrogates, of course, is the cautionary-tale response to those questions. Part of society rebels against the artificiality of it all, setting up autonomous surrogate-free zones. Sure, they’re surrounded by rubble—but as Willis’ Greer finds out once he leaves his surrogate body behind, there’s a lot of simple Eden to be found if we but consign our avatars to their proper places.