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On a snowy New Year’s night in Chicago, a young homeless couple – wrapped in coats, scarves, and each others’ arms – search for a shelter for the night. Headed toward the warmth of the Red Line, the man realizes he’s lost his wallet when a mysterious dark-haired woman appears with it. She takes an interest in the pair in the CTA tunnel and offers them two tickets to her hedonistic end-of-the-year bash. Ballroom dresses, masquerade masks, and alligator head filled with fresh strawberries fill the party, as dream, reality, and hallucination blur for the young woman and the viewer.

Written and directed by Derek Quint, “Second Star” is the third in a collection of 17 short films known as the Vault Projections series. The Chicago-based indie company Addovolt Productions bankrolled the work, which is loosely inspired by J.M. Barrie’s “Peter Pan.” The connections are subtle (perhaps too subtle for anyone to realize without prompting), but once the suggestion is made, themes of being young and lost and the fantasy of an otherworldly Neverland materialize in the work. The intriguing, urban story, inspired by actual friends of the author’s, is relatively well-realized given its small, independent budget. Occasionally, the soundtrack distracts more than enhances the action on screen, but what is lacking in production value is made up for with the ambition of the storytellers. “Second Star” explores the power of human resilience and the danger of human delusion, as our imaginations create the warmth we can’t find in the world.

Watch the film and find updates about Addovolt Productions on their website: http://addovolt.blogspot.com/

In the late 1960s, several curious Swedish television journalists travelled to the United States to examine the growing unrest in the young democracy. Like contemporary Tocquevilles, they captured the growing pains of a nation wag wars in Vietnam, on drugs, and against racism. The birth and growth of the Black Power Movement , captured in this footage, laid dormant in a Swedish studio basement for over 30 years; today, it has been rediscovered and edited into a moving documentary that is a valuable historical artifact and a powerful reminder of our recent past.

Directed by Göran Olsson, The Black Power Mixtape 1967-1975 draws exclusively upon the Swedish footage, pairing it with a stellar soundtrack and contemporary audio interviews with Black artists, activists, and intellectuals. Like any good mixtape, it includes well-known, memorized hits– speeches from the calm and stoic Martin Luther King, the lively, pointed Stokely Carmichael, and the brilliant, afrroed Angela Davis. But perhaps more importantly, it includes those rare unknown jams, carefully chosen by the creator, that unexpectedly prick at your heart – a young sex worker speaks about her heroine addiction, an elderly bookstore owner speaks in memorized poetry about his experiences. These tracks come together to form an album that samples a wide range of Black experiences and won the Audience Award at Sundance this year.

One of the most unexpectedly parts of a documentary entitled The Black Power Mixtape 1967-175 is how it illuminates Swedish-American relations of the time. With a gentle innocence and naivety afforded by their outsider status, the Swedish journalists gain access that an American - involved, whether actively or complicity, with the bigotry of the time – might not. As an unpopular war in Vietnam rages, these Swedes travel to find the truth during a period of international anti-Americanism. When a T.V. Guide article appears critiquing the foreign press’ coverage of the United States, they interview an executive there to dig deeper. Hindsight, knowing the war to be an ultimate failure and T.V. Guide falling in its cultural power, makes the exchange a humorous one.

The question is raised, though, could White Americans have collected such footage? At one point in the film, a contemporary Black intellectual remarks that White interest in Black culture is inherently racist, pointing to an otherization that occurs in a similar way to Orientalism. Could our very interests and passions be bigoted? I won’t offer an easy answer, just point you toward the complicated collection of songs – some smooth, others rough – that appear on this powerful new mixtape.

The Black Power Mixtape 1967-1975 is playing at the Music Box Theatre. More information at http://www.musicboxtheatre.com/

Tucker and Dave are two of the nicest hillbillies you’ll ever meet. They're hairy and speak with not-quite-right grammar, but they have a knack for being kind, hospitable, and generally jovial men of the hills. Unfortunately, they also have a knack for coming across as deranged, blood-thirsty serial killers.

In freshman director Eli Craig’s smart satire, co-penned with film school bud Morgan Jurgenson, a group of booze-focused college kids drive out to the woods for Memorial Day where they cross paths with the titular pair.  Tucker and Dale are innocently fixing up their new “vacation home," while the college kids mistake everything they do for the actions of evil-minded murders. “Just smile and laugh,” Tucker advises Dale as he approaches Allison, one of the attractive female co-des.  He does, quite creepily, all the while forgetting the enormous scythe in his hand.  Or when Tucker saws through a tree, he neglects the hive of bees living inside, sending him running through the forest wielding a chainsaw like any a cliched horror film villain.  These harmless misunderstandings give way to real harm: a series of unfortunate deaths that point a sawed-off finger right at Tucker and Dale. Their quiet weekend in the woods takes a back-seat in the pick-up to death after death of college undergrads. It’s remarkable how many stupid ways the college kids manage to get themselves killed.

What transforms Tucker and Dale vs. Evil, though, from a very funny one-note joke into a feature film is the unexpected emotion beneath the backwoods tale. Tucker and Dale’s friendship, and the budding romance between Dale and Alison, provide the film filled with squirting blood and decapitated corpses with an emotional heart.  Alan Tudyk and Tyler Labine, perfectly cast as the twisted-lipped Tucker and chubby teddy bear Dale, bring a friendly chemistry to the screen, and Katrina Bowden as Allison is able to flex her acting chops beyond her sexy, ditzy assistant Cerie on 30 Rock (although she is still cast as sexy and ditzy). The threesome land jokes, while still playing the realism of their relationships, making Tucker and Dale vs. Evil a cutting satire of horror films and a strong film in its own right.

Tucker and Dale vs. Evil played at the Music Box Theatre. More information at http://www.musicboxtheatre.com/

Amidst the strobe lights and electric pop in an English gay bar, two men catch each other’s eyes.  One is Russell, a timid lifeguard with a stubbly beard and round nose; the other is Glen, a confident artist who delights in oddities and has an armpit fetish.  The two end up hooking up, and spend most of the next 48 hours together: fucking, fighting, and unexpectedly affecting each other more than either intended.

Writer/director Andrew Haigh, in only his second feature film, creates a painfully accurate portrait of a hook-up turned love story that never falls into melodrama.  Shot in 17 days on location in Nottingham, UK, Weekend feels like a documentary. It didn’t hire extras to serve as crowds and most scenes are a single long shot. “Films are so over-edited nowadays," Haigh remarked in an interview. “Nobody gives things the space to just exist.” He knows first-hand, having earned his editing merit badge on cut-heavy blockbusters like Gladiator and Kingdom of Heaven. Much more calmly paced, Weekend captures the subtleties of first getting to know someone – how you make coffee when a stranger is in your bed, how you double up on a bike with someone you’ve known for a day.

As the post-hook-up pair share those cups of instant coffee in Russell’s bed, they have the conversation they didn’t the night before and realize just how different they are. Russell never came out to his parents.  Not because he was scared of what they might say, but because he was an orphan. Glenn “doesn’t do boyfriends,” and is working on an art project that involves recording his sexual conquests the morning after. Throughout, there is a soft longing in the men’s interactions - not just for sexual pleasure (of which there is plenty), but for validation in a world that habitually disapproves. In a heated exchange after lit bowls and huffed lines, they fight over gay marriage. Glenn is jealous of how zealously Americans have fought, upset that he is trapped in a routine which he likens to cement. Russell is more content, and seems too kind to be ambitious.

 After a good-bye kiss in the hallway, Glenn confesses he’s moving to America at the end of the weekend. In only a few days, the two developed an intimacy that makes the pre-planned move feel like a betrayal. Newcomers Tom Cullen (Russell) and Chris New (Glen) shine during these heightened moments, capturing emotion in silent moments. Haigh’s directorial approach requires much of them, expecting them to establish a scene’s rhythm rather than rely on editing techniques. Their raw, real chemistry and Haigh’s support of it didn’t go unnoticed when the film premiered in March at SXSW; it won the Emerging Visions Audience Award.

Gazing down from his fourteenth floor flat, Russell watches Glen and his ever-changing colors of sweatshirts leave: yellow the first morning after, red the next morning, and black the day he leaves for America. He doesn’t deliver a Shakespearean monologue from the balcony or throw down his hair to help him climb back; he just watches. Slow, smart, and painfully realistic, Weekend is a messy, modern fairytale that reminds us how much we can change in a weekend.

Weekend is currently playing at the Music Box Theatre.  Showtimes available at: http://www.musicboxtheatre.com/features/weekend