To be perfectly honest, I don’t really want to tell you anything about Primer — except that you should find a copy, eliminate as many distractions as possible (no phones, internet, pets, babies, etc.) and watch it immediately. I know this sounds paradoxical coming from a column that gives you the scoop on obscure and overlooked films, but the best way to experience the film is to pop it into your DVD player and jump in cold. The less you know about Primer, the better.

But here’s a quick rundown anyway, for anybody who thinks this is a film about paint products: While working on an experimental superconductor in their garage workshop, engineers Aaron (Carruth) and Abe (Sullivan) accidentally create a time machine. Naturally, the two friends use the device to get rich playing the stock market — but eventually they use their newfound power to manipulate more than their bank accounts, entangling themselves in a series of temporal paradoxes so head-spinning it makes Back to the Future look like Timecop.

What makes Primer so unique is that it’s science fiction that downplays the “fiction” part of the equation. There’s no bogus “flux capacitor” or magic phone booth at work here — just a plain-looking metal box, two math nerds, and a barrage of techno-babble. The scientific jargon (which was heavily researched by writer-director Shane Carruth to be as authentic as possible) is never explained in layman’s terms, but makes the fantastical elements seem plausibly “real.” Carruth’s naturalistic lighting and set design also add to the verité feel, one result of working with a budget of only $7,000 (or, the cost of Tom Cruise’s custom shoe lifts). First-time filmmaker Carruth spent most of the money on Super 16mm film, and shot about 80 minutes of footage with no room for mistakes or reshoots. (Primer’s final runtime? A lean 78 minutes.) Determined to pump every dollar onto the screen, Carruth also produced, edited, and scored his film, as well as casting himself in one of the lead roles. His dad, Chip, even provided food for the five weeks of shooting.

After the first viewing, you might need a chart* to understand what the hell you just watched — and repeat viewings seem to raise as many questions as they do answers. Like its time-jumping protagonists, Primermanages to stay one step ahead of the viewer no matter how many times you watch it — but the fun part is trying to catch up.

* Luckily, somebody made one — but good luck deciphering it: neuwanstein.fw.hu/primer_timeline.html.

Actor Christian Bale, The Dark Knight himself (and soon to be John Connor … and I think he was a Swing Kid), was arrested in Britain today for allegedly assaulting his mother and sister. This sounded fishy to me when I heard the news this morning, but according to Wikipedia (and they’re never wrong. Right?) Bale launched a “verbal assault” on his family, which apparently is against the law in England.

I’m not sure what constitutes as a verbal assault. Yelling? Swearing? Talking in your Batman voice? “Yo mama” jokes? Regardless (and without a single shred of evidence or testimony heard), I sympathize with Bale in this situation (who can’t relate to annoying family problems?), and to show my solidarity I designed this T-shirt. Christian Bale — sir — we’ve got your back through this. And you’ll never have to thank us.

UPDATE: According to tmz.com, there may have been some physical contact, but not anything as severe as a Batman-style headbutt. Stay tuned for more developments — same beat-time, same beat-channel.

UPDATE 2: Bale is innocent according to The Daily Mail, and apparently depressed over the death of his arch-nemesis, Heath Ledger. I forgot that they worked together before Dark Knight in the awesome Bob Dylan pseudo-biopic I’m Not There (rent it if you haven’t seen it). They didn’t have any scenes together (Ledger — a Dylan stand-in — plays an actor playing another Dylan stand-in, Jack Rollins [Bale], in a Rollins biopic. It sounds complicated, but trust me, it’s awesome), but they must have really hit it off.

Persepolis, the French animated film by Marjane Satrapi and Vincent Parronaud (adapted from Satrapi’s graphic novels of the same name) hit DVD on June 24. If you like comics, you have to see this movie. If you like animated films, you have to see this movie. If you like cinema at all — if you want to see something unique, challenging, gorgeous, and human — put Persepolis in your queue.

I reviewed the film back in January when it was in theaters (actually, probably just one: The Bijou) and I’m reposting my full Persepolis review after the jump. I still feel the same way about as I did six months ago.

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It’s a good time to be a comic-book fan and movie lover.

There was a time when adapting comics for the big screen was seen as a form of dumpster-diving. But things have changed in bookstores and movie theaters alike; both are now in the firm, Galactus-like grip of comics (graphic novels, if you must). Of course, many of the more affecting adaptations (A History of Violence, Road to Perdition) hide their four-color heritage, and for every Ghost World, there’s a Ghost Rider, but … OK, so it’s a best of times, worst of times kind of thing.

While the visual vocabulary of comics has been successfully translated in films like Sin City and 300, there’s always been something lacking in comics adaptations: real human feeling. (Let’s face it: Sin City has the emotional depth of a sheet of paper.)

However, Persepolis, adapted from Marjane Satrapi’s graphic memoir of the same name, is a stunning victory on all counts. The film is incredibly faithful to the novel’s narrative and tone (Satrapi co-wrote and co-directed the film with Vincent Parronaud), and the decision to animate Satrapi’s signature black-and-white line art is a masterstroke that lets us experience her view of Iran in a way that live-action couldn’t have.

Satrapi begins her story as a precocious, intelligent 9-year-old living with her progressive parents in Tehran. Convinced she will be a prophet (she fantasizes conversations with both God and Karl Marx), the young Satrapi is swept up by the romance of revolution while her country is in the midst of the real thing.

When the Shah’s dictatorship gives way to the fundamentalist Islamic Revolution — dashing her family’s hopes for a democratic government — the free-thinking Satrapi is suddenly forced to wear a head scarf and flog herself for “the martyrs.” The Iraq-Iran war further turns her family’s world upside-down, and as she enters pre-adolescence, Satrapi’s desire to express herself consistently threatens her safety. (On a journey to buy bootleg Iron Maiden cassettes, she narrowly escapes being detained for sporting a “PUNK IS NOT DED” jacket, complete with Michael Jackson badge. “It’s Malcolm X,” she tells the irate women.) Fearful for their daughter’s life, her parents arrange for her to go to school in Vienna. Satrapi’s journey into womanhood begins there, as she finds herself torn between her new, exciting Western life and the guilt of leaving her family behind.

Persepolis is full of gut-wrenching moments — Satrapi doesn’t shy away from the death and destruction she encountered virtually every day in Iran — but the most affecting scenes come between Satrapi and her family, fighting to live a normal life and struggling to say goodbye. Satrapi’s love for her family, particularly her wise, independent grandmother, is palpable in every frame of this film.

Despite the backdrop of war and intolerance, Satrapi’s coming-of-age story is more personal than political — and ultimately, universal. Every triumph and every setback feels like our own, and by the end we know all we need to know about Iran and its people: They’re a lot like us.

Visually arresting, funny, harrowing, and always honest, Persepolis is undoubtedly among the aforementioned best of times.

This piece cost me many hours of sleep, but was a ton of fun to work on. In this week’s Current, Ashley Lindstrom takes a look at how the “third screen” (i.e., iPhones and other portable media devices) will impact movie theaters and how we watch films in general. (The “second screen” is TV.)

My editor suggested tying the story in with this summer’s movie season, so I rounded up some of the more recognizable characters so far (sorry, Iron Man), stuck them in a movie theater, but gave them all iPhones (except for Maxwell Smart back there on a shoe phone, and Sex and the City’s Samantha, with a cocktail). Even though Harrison Ford looks more like Mel Gibson (or Ed O’Neill), I actually really like this piece, particularly WALL•E — is it possible to love a character before you’ve seen the movie he’s in? (Too late, I want one.)

Finished cover after the jump. The new issue is on newstands today and online at sacurrent.com!