Last week I offered an overview of the Palm Springs International Film Festival (PSIFF) as a sort-of “taste of the fest.” This week, I will tout the three films that I enjoyed the most so that our movie-loving readers can seek them out in theaters, on cable, or on DVD.

The first film I caught at the festival was an American indie called Thin Ice, which opens in limited release on February 17. I knew nothing about the film, selecting it because it was convenient to my schedule. I consider myself lucky because it turned out to be one of my favorite films of the entire week. Thin Ice tells the story of Mickey Prohaska, played by Greg Kinnear, who is a less-than-honest insurance agent in Kenosha, Wisconsin. Mickey is always looking for a big score via his insurance racket and is willing to lie, scheme, and cheat his small-town customers to land it. At an insurance convention, Mickey hires an additional agent, Bob, played by David Harbour (also in Madonna’s upcoming W./E.), simply because he doesn’t want a rival agency to land him.  Bob introduces Mickey to Gorvy Hauer, a lonely, old man who lives alone in a farmhouse filled with old furniture, knick-knacks, and junk. Mickey visits Gorvy regularly to persuade him to buy insurance he doesn’t really need, but he switches tactics when he discovers that Gorvy owns a rare violin. Mickey decides to steal the violin, replacing it with a worthless fiddle believing that the foolish old man won’t notice. One of the pleasures of this film is Alan Arkin’s performance as Gorvy. Near the end of the film, he will break your heart as his defeated character ruminates on the cold-hearted nature of contemporary society; and yet, there is more to Gorvy than Mickey—or, the viewer—realizes. My advice is to recall all of Arkin’s roles and characters as he skillfully pulls you into Gorvy’s world so that you do not take the character at face value.

GREG KINNEAR AS MICKEY and ALAN ARKIN AS GORVY: TERRIFIC ACTING

The film has been cast perfectly, taking full advantage of the star images of the actors. Kinnear’s handsome good looks and slick charm make him the perfect choice for Mickey. It’s difficult not to like Greg Kinnear, even when Mickey lies, cheats on his second wife, and plots to swindle an old man. Billy Crudup costars as local small-business-owner Randy Kinney, who installs security systems. The irony is that he is an ex-con who is completely untrustworthy—the last person who should be installing a security alarm.  Randy horns in on the violin scheme, pushing Mickey down a wayward path of crime and murder that quickly gets out of hand. Crudup, a talented character actor who excels at playing handsome working-class men, plays Randy like a tightly wound spring who grows increasingly agitated as the plot spirals out of control. I don’t want to give too much away, but there is an interesting dynamic to the story in which you begin by assuming Mickey is the most immoral character, but by the end, he has become the most sympathetic.

BILLY CRUDUP PLAYS RANDY, AN EX-CON WHO INSTALLS SECURITY SYSTEMS.

Originally titled The Convincer, Thin Ice was directed by Jill Sprecher and written by Sprecher and her sister, Karen.  Sprecher, who directed Thirteen Conversations About One Thing and produced the cable series Big Love, deftly switches tone from black comedy to mystery to a caper film before the viewer realizes the tone and direction have changed. Tight and taut, especially for an indie feature, the film keeps viewers on edge and off guard, partly because the film is smoothly directed and partly because the story unfolds from Mickey’s point of view, and we are privy only to what he knows. Thin Ice was photographed in Minnesota in the dead of winter (though it is set in Wisconsin), and the long shots of the snow-covered landscape by Dick Pope (who often works with Mike Leigh) add to the sense of isolation and disconnection. The winter-time setting in a small northern town will bring comparisons to the Coen Brothers’ Fargo by reviewers who seldom reach beyond the superficial, but the tone, storyline, and characters of Thin Ice are completely different.

The Palm Springs festival is known for programming international films submitted to the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences as candidates for Best Foreign Film. My favorite of the official submissions was The Front Line (Go-ji-jeon), a war drama from South Korea. The war drama is generally not one of my favorite genres, but contemporary South Korean directors and writers seem to be reinterpreting familiar genres with vitality and distinction. I was curious to see how director Jang Hun and screenwriter Park Sang-Yeon handled the war drama. The Front Line is set during the final weeks of the Korean War, as commanders are hammering out the truce and arguing over the line of demarcation between North and South Korea. Each side fights for every foothill, particularly on the Eastern Front where the barren, scarred Aerok Hill has changed hands dozens of times. Kang, played by Shin Ha-Kyun, is sent to the front to investigate the possibility that a North Korean mole has infiltrated the South Korean troops known as the Alligator Patrol. Once there, he joins the efforts to re-take and hold Aerok Hill, an exercise in futility that represents the absurdity of war. The ultimate in military senselessness occurs after the truce is signed: Though the war is over, the official ceasefire is 12 hours after the signing, so Kang and the men are ordered to fight for Aerok Hill until that hour arrives.

ANOTHER BATTLE FOR AEROK HILL

At first, The Front Line seems to be merely a collection of the tropes and archetypes familiar from the war drama: A fresh-faced new recruit struggles with the horrors of war; a cynical but good-hearted combat veteran watches out for the younger men; the troops fight with honor and courage; Kang learns that the officers issuing orders back at army headquarters know nothing about the realities of war on the front. Director Jang’s command of the grammar of film makes the gruesome combat scenes tense and exciting. My favorite scene consists of a series of extreme long shots of Aerok Hill showing troops as they scramble up the muddy, pock-marked hill like ants. The shots are connected via slow dissolves to suggest that the battle to control this hill goes on and on, week after week, with the South Koreans taking it one day, then the North Koreans taking it the next. From a distance, it’s difficult to tell one side from the other.

But, that is the point that makes The Front Line more than just a war drama: Koreans are fighting Koreans, and there is little difference between the soldiers of each side.  An arbitrary line put on a map in the presence of an American general during the truce talks differentiates one side from the other; only the accident of birth determines which side of that line a soldier will be on. This reminded me of our own Civil War when Americans fought Americans, particularly the way Aerok Hill changed hands so often—like Winchester, Virginia, which changed sides between the North and South over 70 times. How pointless to kill so many for such a tiny patch of land; and, how horrifying to see your fellow countrymen as your enemy. Jung and Park repeatedly remind us of the tragedy of pitting Korean against Korean, as with the scenes involving a box buried in a bunker on Aerok Hill. The South Koreans place gifts, chocolate, and booze inside the box for their North Korean counterparts and vice versa,  including personal letters to be posted home on the other side of that arbitrary line. In the last battle for the hill—a fight that is completely unnecessary—we see those who have been contributing to the box killing each other.

SHIN HA-KYUN STARS AS KANG.

I do not know if The Front Line will make the short list of Academy Award nominations for Best Foreign Film, but I am rooting for it.

I saw several documentaries at the PSIFF, but the one that I derived the most satisfaction from was neither ground-breaking nor original. Paradise Lost 3: Purgatory is the final film in a trilogy by Joseph Berlinger and  Bruce Sinofsky, who have chronicled the fate of the West Memphis 3 for almost 20 years. I have been following the story of Damien Echols, Jason Baldwin, and Jessie Misskelley since the first film, Paradise Lost: The Child Murders at Robin Hood Hills, was released in 1996. Echols, Baldwin, and Misskelley were arrested when they were teenagers for killing three boys, who were found in a wooded area nude and mutilated. Because Echols wore black, listened to metal music, had been arrested for minor offenses, and reportedly talked about drinking blood, stories of Satanism and human sacrifice swirled around the first trial. Baldwin and Echols were close friends, making the former guilty by association; Misskelley had a low I.Q., making him easy prey for the police who were looking to quickly solve the case. All three were working class kids whose families did not have the means to fight the system with high-powered attorneys.  Echols was sentenced to death; Baldwin got a life sentence; and Misskelley was given life plus 40 years. The first Paradise Lost revealed the prejudice against the boys as well as the tactics of the police during the investigation. It also focused a great deal of screen time on John Mark Byers, the stepfather of one of the victims who is truly an odd individual. The film cast suspicion on Byers, which was magnified in Paradise Lost 2: Revelations (2000), though he is exonerated in Paradise Lost 3: Purgatory.

Throughout the 1990s and early 2000s, lawyers for the Memphis 3 appealed their cases, using a variety of approaches. The thrust of Paradise Lost 3 was to follow the forensic evidence that was brought to light in 2007. A team of forensic experts interpreted the evidence, believing that it excluded the Memphis 3 as possible murderers. The prosecuting team, the chief investigator, and the original judge dug their heels in, refused to consider the forensic analysis, and did not want new evidence to be formally presented in court as a means to free the Memphis 3. Angry—almost sullen—that their shortcomings as law enforcement officials were revealed to the entire country, they would rather keep innocent men in prison than admit they bungled the case.

PL3 acknowledges the role that the original film played in bringing attention to the case. Over the years, celebrities from Johnny Depp to the Dixie Chicks, who learned of the case through the film, have spoken in support of the three boys. The lead prosecuting investigator admits the role of the film in keeping the case in the news. If it weren’t for the films, it is likely Echols would have been executed long ago. PL3 reminded me that film can be an instrument for change—and sometimes even a weapon.

Many already know the ultimate fate of the Memphis 3, but for those who do not, I won’t spoil the film for you by detailing all of the outcomes and surprises. I’ll just say it is a fascinating story about the inequalities of our justice system, especially for those who do not have the means or access to good legal representation.  Also, you don’t have to see the other two films in order to follow this one, because PL3does a solid job of recapping the story from the beginning.

THE DIRECTORS WITH DAMIEN ECHOLS

The Memphis 3 are no longer boys but men. Echols and Baldwin have become quite articulate not only about their case but also about life, fate, and happiness. Surprisingly, they seem to be neither bitter nor hardened by their experiences, and they continue to stick together. Indeed, in the end, Baldwin made a sacrifice for Echols, which I found quite moving.

Thin Ice opens in theaters next month; The Front Line may receive a limited release if it makes the short list of nominees for best foreign film; and Paradise Lost 3: Purgatory airs this month on HBO.