... movie review: Concussion...

A well-made independent film is the remedy to the malady that is Hollywood.  Predictability is lost in the Indie, as is the viewer's self-awareness.

Were I to fancy myself as one with an eclectic taste in choosing what to watch next, right or wrong, it is that discovery of a diamond in the rough that reassures the ego as having made the proper choice whereas box-office is rarely a proper indicator by which to go.  

Having said that, it's good to know what people like or do not when the sampling is significant enough to weed out the stand-alone.  At the other end of the spectrum, my Netflix queue, for example, is maxed out such that I cannot now add another film without subtracting something else.  The quickest and easiest factor to make that decision is the film's popularity.  Ultimately one must decide which to jetison based on mass appeal--who's already seen it and didn't like it?  Far easier to delete film No. 487 from my queue, which has 1.9 stars, vs. No. 325 at 3-1/4, the difference between the audience actually liking or not liking the thing.

Concussion, a story about a bored lesbian house frau choosing to bust a move to a more exciting lifestyle, is one such film and where I must depart from the group.  The people gave it 2.9 stars, although I give it 4.0.  I liked it very much.

I'd forgotten how it got onto my queue until I saw Maggie Siff enter a scene; she of Sons of Anarchy fame.  Then I remembered that one Salon critic recommended the film.  Couple that with the fact I generally like girl-on-girl activity.

What can I say?  I'm red-blooded and American.

I'm not into spoiler alerts; but suffice it to say Concussion is an intelligent character study with sound and tasteful production, direction, and writing values, and doesn't devolve into the typically maudlin estrogen-poisoning a la, say, The L-Word.  Ten minutes into it, I didn't think I'd like it, but I found myself being surprised at every other turn.

Shorter g.: I like that in my lesbians.  Recommended.