Twelve and Holding

Director Michael Cuesta's coming-of-age drama follows a group of four friends, in the wake of a tragedy, and explores the individual stories surrounding them. Each child deals with a separate, though equally monumental, hurdle. A fine set of performances, at times even brilliant, make this film so watchable, and despite some traps it seems greenhorn Anthony Cipriano's script falls into, is memorable and enjoyable without being dragged down by sentimentality.

Cuesta seems to have taken a page from the Hal Hartley school of dramatic integrity. It's not only his use of tight, three-condensed-to-two-shot coverage style. Hartley's skill is in raising the particular stakes of a scene subtly, yet almost to the breaking point, bordering on unbelievability. Then he stays there, toeing the line, and makes it the new reality of the film. Cuesta employs similar skills, and his actors respond beautifully. Where Leonard's various showdowns, with his parents, with the P.E. teacher, could have hit a comedic note and merely backed down, Cipriano, Cuesta, and the remarkably talented Jesse Comacho keep the intelligence coming.

There are gorgeous moments in this script. The entire exchange with the P.E. teacher is near perfect (Leonard's entire story is reminiscent of Mike Leigh's All or Nothing, in its mood, its writ, and its humanity), Malee's relationship with her mother, Jacob's father and his excellent wisdom.

But Cipriano is suckered in by the same demons that plagued the guy who wrote Crash. He tries to connect the pieces, wrap the story in a salable package. The end effort merely cheapens the whole. There were nice set-ups, and the entire third act is earned, but all our hopes for an excellent and original thought-piece are blown out the window by the cleverly placed resolutions. Maybe that's why nobody saw this movie.