Warped, testosteronized rivalry has informed the cinematic canon of the Duplass brothers, Jay and Mark, in films like Cyrus and Jeff, Who Lives at Home, but that area of inquiry actually has its roots in The Do-Deca-Pentathlon, a fun little bauble they shot in 2008 as their third feature film, after The Puffy Chair and Baghead and before those two aforementioned movies. Buzzing with a low-fi honesty and intimacy, the movie exudes a charming quality of realness and small, to-scale catharsis that mark it as a treat indie film fans should definitely seek out.



Based loosely on a pair of ultra-competitive brothers who grew up down the street from the Duplasses, the film centers on Mark (Steve Zissis, above left), a schlubby thirtysomething guy who’s visiting his mom (Julie Vorus) with his family when his estranged brother, Jeremy (Mark Kelly, above right), shows up. The pair, once close, have basically stopped speaking to one another as the result of a massive, three-day, 25-event athletic competition as teenagers that ended in a disputed tie (their underwater breath-holding contest was interrupted). Egged on by Jeremy’s sniping and clucking dismissal, Mark finds his competitive impulses re-awakened. Even though his wife (Jennifer Lafleur), worried about his health and stress levels, tries to limit Mark’s contact with Jeremy, the duo conspire to hold a clandestine rematch, and settle the matter of brotherly superiority once and for all.

As a comedy of men behaving badly, The Do-Deca-Pentathlon is a lot of fun. Zissis and Kelly needle each other in fine fashion, and the Duplass brothers capture in smart, shorthand strokes how self-esteem can get caught up in sibling rivalry, and battles for parental attention. But the movie is also about awakened fraternal bonding. While the events — everything from pool and ping-pong to arm-wrestling and basketball — offer up the chance for a few fun little set pieces, the Duplass brothers’ film (a focused and unfussy domestic snapshot, at only 75 minutes) is mostly concerned with assaying masculine norms and methods of communication and respect. There’s a lot of recognizable truth here, amidst the considerable silliness. For the full, original review, from ShockYa, click here. (Red Flag Releasing, unrated, 75 minutes)

A horror movie in only the loosest sense, writer-director Nicholas McCarthy’s The Pact is actually more of a psychologically rooted chiller, in which the dark, repressed memories of a turbulent and unhappy childhood come bubbling to the surface. Whether its disturbing twists are meant to be taken literally or as intense manifestations of trauma is a matter of debate up until the final reel, and then even afterward.

Following their estranged mother’s death, Nicole (Agnes Bruckner) leans on her sister Annie (Caity Lotz) to return to their childhood home and help settle her affairs. Annie is reluctant, but when she arrives, Nicole is nowhere to be found. After the funeral, a series of unnerving events follows — noises in the night, objects moving about, and then more even powerful paranormal disturbances. Annie reports her sister’s disappearance to the police, and also discovers a hidden room in the house. Further digging then leads her to more revelations about her mother’s past.

Though it’s his feature debut as a filmmaker, McCarthy’s movie is based upon a short of the same name, and his familiarity and level of thought, investment and comfort with respect to the material is evident. There are echoes of the same sense of weighty familial and inter-generational guilt explored in movies like Steve Kloves’ Flesh and Bone, from 1993, and 2001’s Frailty, directed by Bill Paxton, and McCarthy also possesses a good grasp of effective, tension-building technique. The low-key production design and level of attention to detail is also superlative. If some of its narrative pivots come off as a bit fantastical as The Pact winds its way to its conclusion, the performances help hold an audience’s interest. Lotz is a solid guide on this journey, and the troubled Annie’s quest invites considerable sympathy. For the full, original review, from ShockYa, click here. (IFC Midnight, unrated, 91 minutes)