The Alchemist Cookbook

In Joel Potrykus’s The Alchemist Cookbook, Sean (Ty Hickson) toils away tirelessly in his trailer attempting to crack the code to nature’s riches. Tucked deep in the woods of Michigan with just his cat Kaspar as company, he has given up on society and placed himself in complete isolation. His hilarious older brother Cortez (Amari Cheatom) visits him regularly to deliver groceries and represents the final strand connecting him to the outside world. When Sean turns to black magic, Cortez realizes he must pull his brother back now or lose him forever to the forces of evil. Amari Cheatom delivers a scene-stealing performance. He nails his comedic banter early in the film and when events take a dark turn his disappointment in Sean drips from every line of dialogue. Unpredictable and tonally diverse, The Alchemist Cookbook is a creepy allegory about the dangers of self-imposed isolation and sacrifice in the pursuit of riches.

Joshy

An untimely event puts a definitive end to Joshy’s (Thomas Middleditch) engagement, and his bachelor party weekend instead becomes a time for healing of the drugs, alcohol and sex surrogate variety. Relationships break down, new ones are built and a newfound love for complicated board games is discovered over the course of a few days in Ojai, California. Hilarious and soulful, Joshy deftly juggles a wide variety of distinct character types without ever muddling the narrative. Dealing with some very heavy themes, writer/director Jeff Baena does a fantastic job of juxtaposing the drama with outrageous humor delivered with pinpoint precision by a stacked cast of comedic talent. The fantastic script features multiple shocking twists and tender moments that make the comedy feel necessary. It reminds us that when life gets tough we all need a little joy to get through the day.

Dark Night

Inspired by the shooting that occurred at a screening of The Dark Knight Rises in Aurora, Colorado in 2012, the aptly titled Dark Night follows the suburban lives of six strangers leading up to a similarly fateful night. Director Tim Sutton presents a foreboding tapestry where every character is plagued by body image, PTSD, rejection or some other form of societal isolation and has the potential to be the aggressor. The somber film lives in the quiet moments, frequently focusing on the characters when they're alone. It sports dreamy cinematography while keeping the viewer in constant unease, the violence already a foregone conclusion. Long minimalist shots are punctuated by a haunting cover of “You Are My Sunshine” by Maica Armata that plays throughout the film like a motif that desperately pleads for mercy. Cerebral and sobering, Dark Night is a searing indictment of modern American culture and the dangers that lay in wait.