The 15 Best Movies Complex Saw at the 2013 SXSW Film Festival

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Director: Joss Whedon
Stars: Amy Acker, Alexis Denisof, Nathan Fillion, Fran Kranz, Jillian Morgese, Sean Maher, Reed Diamond, Clark Gregg, Tom Lenk

Making Hollywood blockbusters is really hard work—it'd be understandable if the guy who directed last year's gargantuan smash The Avengers opted to take some time off before shooting his next project. That's not how Joss Whedon works, though.

Rather than sit back and either field offers for more studio fare or go off the grid, Whedon took the less obvious step: He invited a bunch of his best actor-friends over to his Los Angeles house for 12 days and shot a black-and-white, loose, and breezy adaptation of William Shakespeare's classic play Much Ado About Nothing. And unlike past examples of famous people getting together for some paid playtime (see: Couples Retreat, Grown Ups), Whedon's lo-fi experiment is as much fun to watch as it must've been to produce.

Keeping Shakespeare's dialogue untouched, Whedon relocates the story to modern-day L.A., proving the timelessness of the bard's writing without ignoring the silliness of what he and his cast are doing. Props that were unavailable to Shakespeare during his time, like a Barbie's Playhouse, are used for clever comedic effect, and several of the players—particularly Whedon regular Nathan Fillion as the bumbling detective Dogberry—play up their self-aware sense of humor just enough to conjure laughter but not distract from the mission at hand. That mission, of course, is to tell a love story, a central one—between the initially contentious Benedick (Alexis Denisof) and Beatrice (Amy Acker)—that's surrounded by peripheral romances.

Whedon's Much Ado About Nothing is the ultimate take-it-or-leave-it property: It doesn't need to exist, frankly, and he and his cohorts don't modernize the material so much that Shakespeare's seminal tale feels entirely fresh. But there's nothing wrong with a harmless and spirited homage to a storyteller of Sir William's caliber, especially when it's delivered with the pleasantries and charm seen here. Not all movies need to be The Avengers.

Director: Rob Zombie
Stars: Sheri Moon Zombie, Bruce Davison, Jeff Daniel Phillips, Ken Foree, Patricia Quinn, Dee Wallace, Maria Conchita Alonso, Judy Geeson, Meg Foster

This time, Rob Zombie really isn't fucking around.

Not that he's ever made a horror film that's been lighthearted or pleasant, mind you. Starting off with the uneven but curious House of 1,000 Corpses, the heavy metal hit-maker's second career as a genre director has been notable for its attention to depravity and humorless brutality. That bug-nuts film's superior, more nuanced, and altogether first-rate sequel, The Devil's Rejects, was a huge leap forward artistically, and, although they're mostly derided by hardcore John Carpenter enthusiasts, Zombie's two Halloween flicks each contain numerous well-directed and impressively relentless sequence amidst their storytelling missteps.

Zombie's fans haven't seen anything yet, though. Steeped in European sensibilities, the writer-director's latest horror extravaganza, The Lords of Salem is his most ambitious and befuddling work yet—befuddling in positive ways comparable to the least comprehensible, yet no less enthralling and delightfully appalling, films from, say, Alejandro Jodorowsky and Dario Argento. Except that The Lords of Salem is unmistakably a Rob Zombie vision, one that never suffered the same big-wig interference that befell his Halloween studio assignments. Given total creative freedom from mega-producer Jason Blum (Insidious, the Paranormal Activity series), Zombie holds nothing back.

And the outcome is about as close to modern-day audiences may ever come to experiencing the midnight-movie weirdness of films like Santa Sangre and Alucarda. Zombie's wife, and go-to actress, Sheri Moon Zombie takes the lead as a radio DJ living in Salem and trying to put her past drug addictions behind her. At work, she receives a mysterious box containing a vinyl recording, addressed from "The Lords," and whenever she puts the needle to the record, she starts having hallucinogenic flashbacks centered around Margaret Morgan (an insanely game Meg Foster), who, during the days of the Salem Witch Trials, led a coven that got burned alive and left a curse on their murderers' ancestors.

That, in a nutshell, is what little story The Lords of Salem has, but this isn't a movie where narrative matters much. As Zombie pointed out in the post-screening Q&A, some of his all-time favorite movies are ones that he's not even sure he understands yet can't stop thinking about; through their bizarre imagery and haunting concepts, they've left imprints on his mind.

Nearly 10 hours after watching The Lords of Salem with an energetic Topfer Theatre crowd in Austin, I'm still thinking about the film's endless barrage of creeping dread and demonic visuals. Especially throughout its final third, Zombie's totally out-there picture morphs into a demented collection of sights, not all of which, it should be noted, entirely convince. Burnt-faced surgeons performing a hideous C-section, paintings that ooze blood, Foster's jarringly skeletal body tucked away in the corners of frames, and long tracking shots that give way to phantasmagoria, all to the sounds of a dizzying electro-metal score, have a lingering effect; seeing demons in priest outfits violently stroking dildos, however, is a bit much.

In this case, fortunately, it's easy to give Zombie a pass. The Lords of Salem opens with naked and flabby witches performing a wild Satanic ritual, so there's never any doubt as to what kind of movie you're viewing, and Zombie completely uses that license to his advantage. The film's parade of grotesqueries will definitely repulse some, if not have them laughing for all the wrong reasons. Chances are, though, anyone who voluntarily seeks out "video nasties" and prefers the lurid over logical will happily kneel before Zombie's strange altar.

Directors: Simon Barrett, Adam Wingard, Eduardo Sanchez, Gregg Hale, Timo Tjahjanto, Gareth Huw Evans, Jason Eisener
Stars: Adam Wingard, Lawrence Levine, L. C. Holt, Kelsy Abbott, Hannah Hughes

By the end of V/H/S/2, the quickly made sequel to last year's indie horror sensation V/H/S, it's clear that the producers—namely, returning filmmakers Adam Wingard and Simon Barrett—are trying to build a mythology and, through that, establish a franchise. Like its predecessor, V/H/S/2 is an anthology of shorts strung together by a wraparound story and all shot in the found-footage style; unlike V/H/S, however, this second go-round, executed with a larger scope, is much leaner: The 95-minute duration includes four segments, as opposed to the five that clocked in at just a shade under two hours). Which, once again, leaves the framing tale little room to develop.

Give Barrett (who wrote and directed the connective "Tape 49") credit, though: As this film's pair of private investigators search a creepy, empty house for a missing college student, they come across, for the acknowledgement of V/H/S fans, several visual references to the first film while watching the random video tapes stacked in one of the rooms. Even though it's just as anti-climactic as the V/H/S wraparound, "Tape 49" at least feels like it has a purpose, whereas last year's "Tape 56" had the air of a tacked-on, underwhelming throwaway.

The fact that the V/H/S/2 team pads the four segments with a purposeful thread lends the film an urgency and direction that V/H/S lacked—in that regard, it's superior. Yet the issue of unevenness persists. Two of the film's efforts—"Safe Haven," co-directed by Gareth Huw Evans (The Raid: Redemption) and Indonesian provocateur Timo Tjahjanto, and Hobo With a Shotgun helmer Jason Eisener's "Slumber Party Alien Abduction"—are ferocious knockouts. The other two—Wingard's "Phase 1 Clinical Trials" and "A Ride in the Park," from collaborators Eduardo Sanchez (co-director of The Blair Witch Project) and Gregg Hale—are reasonably enjoyable trifles.

Saving the best for last, V/H/S/2 begins with "Phase 1 Clinical Trials," about a guy who undergoes surgery and becomes a test subject of sorts for a new robotic eyeball. It's too bad for him, though, that said eyeball gives him the ability to see ghosts. Wingard relies heavily upon the old turn-around-and-see-something-freaky jump scare tactic, surrounding a few effective jolts with a growing lack of surprise and an abrupt conclusion. "A Ride in the Park," meanwhile, operates on a clever idea that, it's hard to believe, hasn't been done before: A biker riding with a helmet-cam gets attacked by a zombie, turns into a flesh-eater, and starts devouring everyone in his path. Sanchez and Hale's living dead romp charges up once a band of ghouls disrupt a little girl's birthday party, but, like "Clinical Trials," its resolution is unsatisfying.

Especially when compared to the epic "Safe Haven," an ambitious, expanded, and masterfully made death-blow that sets the new precedent for which any future V/H/S segments—or any horror shorts, for that matter—must strive. Four young documentarians gain access into an Indonesian commune known as Paradise Gates, the home of a cult leader and his flock of subservient men, women, and children. What starts off as a moody investigation piece gradually explodes into a crescendo of absolute mayhem, complete with disemboweled bodies, suicide, demonic possession, and a doomsday finale that's incredibly batshit. Evans and Tjhajanto are clearly working with more creative firepower than their peers—everything about "Safe Haven" feels of a higher caliber, almost as if it's from a different movie altogether.

"Slumber Party Alien Abduction," the film's final segment, has more in common with the original V/H/S film's last portion, the frantic haunted house piece "10/31/98." As seen in Hobo With a Shotgun and his The ABCs of Death contribution, "Y is for Youngbuck," the Canadian-born Eisener doesn't go for subtlety or slow burns. He's a wild child, and "Alien Invasion Slumber Party" is every bit as unruly and exciting as Hobo With a Shotgun lovers would expect.

At first, it's The Goonies meets Jackass, with a group of rambunctious teenagers pranking one's older sister while the parents are away—the funniest bit involves water pistols filled with urine. Right before the sister and her boyfriend are about to revel in their successful payback, malevolent extra-terrestrials (nicely obscured and made all the more unnerving by Eisener's lighting and framing techniques) turn the sleepover into an extended outdoor chase sequence with multiple payoffs. Eisener deserves bonus points for finding a unique way to shoot POV cinema: The alien scenes are all captured by a camera that's strapped to the kids' little dog.

The energy and sheer ballsiness that ignite in "Safe Haven" and bleed into "Alien Invasion Slumber Party" show how dynamic these V/H/S movies can be if the filmmakers go for broke. Had "Clinical Trials" and "A Ride in the Park" been given similar aspirations, V/H/S/2 could've been astounding. As it stands, the omnibus follow-up is an admirable, marked improvement that benefits from containing two of the best horror films, short or feature-length, to come around in years.

Director: Joe Swanberg
Stars: Olivia Wilde, Jake Johnson, Anna Kendrick, Ron Livingston, Ti West, Jason Sudeikis, Frank V. Ross, Mike Brune

Joe Swanberg's first foray into mainstream-accessible filmmaking, Drinking Buddies, couldn't come at a better time for the rom-com genre. Diluted in recent years by a barrage of trite carbon copies, cinematic love stories are in dire straits, which is why Drinking Buddies is such a formidable injection of new blood. Give credit to indie stalwart Swanberg's experience working in the lo-fi movie scene, where his improv-based sensibilities (we're not gonna say mumblecore) have all led to this moment.

With Drinking Buddies (written, directed, and edited by Swanberg), he dabbles in the familiar tropes of the rom-com and then cleverly subverts them, all without making a forced point of it. The film feels as breezy and loose as his previous efforts—only this time, he's working with some big names. Olivia Wilde and Jake Johnson star as a couple of beer-loving pals who work at a Chicago brewery together and, unbeknownst to them, have similar romantic lives: They're each dating someone with whom they're not entirely compatible (played by Ron Livingston and Anna Kendrick, respectively).

A weekend couples' getaway leads to a conflict that, at first, seems telegraphed, as if Swanberg was falling victim to romantic storytelling conventions. But as Drinking Buddies proceeds, with the genuine laughs stacking up and the actors continuing to give naturalistic and charming performances, it becomes clear that Swanberg knows exactly what rom-com haters are expecting, and he keeps zigging where others would be zagging.

Drinking Buddies is the opposite of a Hollywood romance. Which makes it all the more crucial that Hollywood types pay attention.

Director: Vincent Grashaw
Stars: PJ Boudousqué, James C. Burns, Chris Petrovski, Octavius J. Johnson, Nicholas Bateman, Stephanie Simbari

Accomplished and dealing out powerful damage, Coldwater should be a calling card for first-time feature director Vincent Grashaw. Often at film festivals like SXSW, many of the narrative entries look and feel unpolished—sometimes that works in the film's favor, other times it's the source of criticism. Coldwater, on the other hand, has the storytelling maturity, gripping pace, and grade-A performances (from a group of unknown actors) that one would find in a veteran's third or fourth movie.

Working with some heavy subject matter didn't hurt Grashaw either. Set in an off-the-grid teenage rehabilitation compound deep into the wilderness, Coldwater presents a world of cruel, unusual, and illegal discipline that, as Grashaw pointed out during the screening's Q&A, exists in more harshness than he shows in his film. That's alarming to think about, too, since Coldwater doesn't shy away from brutality.

Ryan Gosling lookalike PJ Boudousqué gives a commanding performance as Brad Lunders, a troubled youth who sells drugs, hates his widowed mother's new boyfriend, and loves his girlfriend even when she chastises him for dealing. A tragedy strikes that finally convinces his mother to pay a couple of goons to physically remove Brad from his bedroom one night, toss him into the back of a van, and sent him off to the Coldwater campus, where a hard-nosed, retired marine colonel (James C. Burns) runs the place with a toughness that'd make Full Metal Jacket's Sergeant Hartman wince.

The hell that is the Coldwater facility is a fully realized and traumatic world. Grashaw and co-writer Mark Penney take their time to establish a large ensemble of characters, all of whom register emotionally and are played with a collective assuredness by the film's gifted cast of twenty-something males. Whenever someone gets beaten down or stuck in a hot box with their arms tied above their heads (which happens quite a bit), the pain is tangible.

And as Coldwater unpredictable energy escalates into forcible violence and pure darkness, Grashaw's intense debut generates raw suspense.

Director: Fede Alvarez
Stars: Jane Levy, Shiloh Fernandez, Lou Taylor Pucci, Jessica Lucas, Elizabeth Blackmore

You can't tell director Fede Alvarez and the producers behind Evil Dead that they aren't audacious. On what's definitely one of the stronger posters to arrive in some time, Evil Dead's confident tagline reads as follows: "The most terrifying film you will ever experience." Of course, they didn't really mean that as much as they intended it to express their own self-assurance and assuage the millions of skeptics questioning why the original team behind the 1981 cult classic—Sam Raimi, Bruce Campbell, and Robert Tapert—would willingly revamp their beloved masterwork of gonzo low-budget genre filmmaking.

With that kind of tagline, though, comes a certain expectation, one that could only be satiated by taking the original's gory anarchy and ratcheting it up tenfold, all with the resources and on-set trickery that Raimi and friends couldn't afford 32 years ago. And, on a few must-address levels, the new Evil Dead isn't nearly as batshit as its predecessor, nor is it as creepy.

What it is, however, is bloodier—in fact, first-time director Alvarez's hard-R rollercoaster descent into Hell just may be the most viscera-drenched mainstream horror film of the new millennium, if not of all time. Which is the one major level that Evil Dead ultimately succeeds upon: When this baby kicks into ludicrous gear, it's a cover-your-eyes knockout. Yet this Evil Dead interjects far too many brief respites in between its money-shot sequences, resulting in a somewhat episodic flick that prevents it from ever truly reaching the overpowering ferocity Alvarez and company no doubt wanted.

But damn does it come close. Much to his credit, Alvarez—a Uruguayan novice who first caught insiders' collective attention back in 2009 with the acclaimed sci-fi short Panic Attack!—has a steady hand on his camera when it counts. Whereas most Hollywood genre directors tend to dress gruesome scenes with kinetic editing, Alvarez shows every second and detail of each hideous dismemberment and self-mutilation that befall the five unfortunate characters. Similar to the original Evil Dead, they're a group of lifelong friends spending a few nights inside an isolated old cabin in the woods.

There's a catch here, though: One of them, Mia (Suburgatory star Jane Levy), has a dangerous drug addiction, and the trip deep into the woods is actually an intervention to get her to kick the habit. Before long, the doomed pals find a book filled with Satanic imagery and red-written warnings. And, naturally, one of them reads every indecipherable word and summons possessive demonic forces.

The script, co-written by Alvarez and Rodo Sayagues (with some assistance from Diablo Cody), isn't the project's strong suit, particularly due to a succession of hokey, at times downright idiotic dialogue. In one scene, a character projectile vomits blood all over the face of another, to which the latter says, as if unaware that such geysers of blood can't actually pour out of a person, "She's totally psychotic!" Actor Lou Taylor Pucci, playing the prerequisite "Something's wrong here, guys," character, suffers the most from the dialogue issues—practically every line his character says is problematic.

Sticklers for screenwriting proficiency will probably have a field day picking Evil Dead apart. But, let's be honest: You're not paying money to see this movie in hopes of getting Glengarry Glenn Ross. The horror is what counts here, and, yes, Evil Dead is on fire whenever the scares are at hand—meaning, the entire third act, which culminates with one exceedingly loony showstopper that finds one character (who'll win genre fans' hearts over forever thanks to this extended action sequence) in a human-vs-demon showdown complete with blood showers, arms getting ripped in half, and terrific use of a chainsaw.

It's a curtain-closing moment that'll leave weak-stomached audience members reeling, gorehounds cheering, and—assuming they're able to drop all pretensions and embrace this altogether successful remake's unsubtle, ghastly charms—those who've groaned at the film's numerous missteps throwing their hands in the air and saying, "Screw it, that was pretty damn badass."

Director: David Gordon Green
Stars: Paul Rudd, Emile Hirsch

Who are we to knock David Gordon Green for indulging in his Hollywood-minded interests? Mostly abandoning everything that he'd previously established via his string of terrific independent dramas (George Washington, All the Real Girls, Snow Angels), Green took a sabbatical in Tinsel Town and made the big-budget, sporadically humorous, but ultimately rudimentary comedies Pineapple Express, Your Highness, and The Sitter. It was only a matter of time, though, before he returned to his roots, and with the first-class two-hander Prince Avalanche, Green has married both sides of his artistic mentality: his knack for raw character drama and his love for laughs. That it's a remake of a recent Icelandic film only slightly diminishes DGG's return.

The film's narrative set-up is simplicity exemplified: Two road workers (Paul Rudd and Emile Hirsch) draw yellow paint lines on a Texas highway surrounded by fire-ravaged woods and trees and shoot the proverbial shit with each other. Hirsch is the young slacker who, at first, is only interested in talking about his shallow pursuits of the opposite sex; Rudd, on the other hand, is the uptight, doofy boss who also happens to be dating Hirsch's older sister.

Prince Avalanche is an endless showcase for the perfectly paired Rudd and Hirsch, two subtle performers who sell the sneaky one-liners. They're both in pristine form here, each giving his best on-screen performance to date in a quietly emotional and always just-goofy-enough melting pot of modestly screwball comedy that's definitely funnier than any of Green's earlier laugh projects.

During the post-screening Q&A, Green said that he'd love to make another pricey movie within the studio system. But if Prince Avalanche proves anything, it's that he doesn't need large amounts of loot to attract names like Paul Rudd and make them as funny as ever. And, more importantly, more effective than ever.

Director: Hannah Fidell
Stars: Lindsay Burdge, Will Brittain, Jennifer Prediger, Julie Dell Phillips, Jonny Mars, Chris Doubek

As the old saying goes—and the prophetic Nasir Jones once turned this into a song title—no idea's original.

When it comes to storytelling, what matters is how one gets to the heart of a narrative, not the narrative itself. Case in point: Hannah Fidell's taut character study A Teacher. It's centered around a familiar concept, that of an attractive high school instructor conducting a secret love affair with one of her male students. Notes on a Scandal, much?

Yet, regardless of her script's surface-level familiarities, Fiddell's devastating knockout of a motion picture (which first caught a strong buzz during January's Sundance Film Festival) never feels rudimentary. Creating a pair of believable, honest characters, she's delivered a controlled and intricately volatile moment in time: the phase of the student/teacher relationship in which one person's sexual interest transforms into infatuation.

Ms. Diana Watts (newcomer Lindsay Burdge in a powerhouse turn) is an Austin, TX, high school English teacher whose obsession with likable hunk Eric (the equally strong Will Brittain) is leaving her in a perpetual state of on-the-verge internal combustion. Fidell takes full advantage of Burge's dynamite face, keeping the camera fastened on Burge's reaction to news of a freshman female's recently discovered, topless camera phone pic (which brings to mind a photo Watts took for Eric). Burge conveys near eruption without so much as blinking.

As A Teacher swiftly moves towards its intelligent and downbeat resolution, Fiddell captures a mood that's reminiscent of Michael Haneke's similarly dour The Piano Teacher—and that's one lofty compliment. Once her film receives its Labor Day release via Oscilloscope Laboratories, you'll appreciate the comparison.

Director: Kieran Evans
Stars: Antonia Campbell-Hughes, Julian Morris, Stephen Walters, William Ruane, Claire Keelan, Michael Ryan, Sean Mason

Less that 24 hours before seeing Kelly + Victor, I was completely won over by the dark yet sweet romance in The Spectacular Now, leaving Austin's Topfer Theatre on a feel-good high. Which, as it turns out, was the worst way to walk into the Stateside Theatre for an early morning screening of Irish filmmaker Kieran Evans' downbeat, emotionally punishing Kelly + Victor.

Yes, the L-word is in the air throughout Evans' adaptation of author Niall Griffiths' novel, but so are bondage, abuse, heartaches, and fatality. Kelly + Victor leaves you reeling, stunned by how viscerally it handles tainted love and invigorated by how well put together it is on all fronts. It's the Requiem for a Dream of on-screen romances. 

Anchored by two exceptional lead performances, Kelly + Victor depicts the ways in which suddenly getting smitten by someone can be as harmful as it is empowering. The title characters—played by the fragile, uneasily enchanting Antonia Campbell-Hughes and the charismatic Julian Morris—are lost souls drifting around the streets of Liverpool, searching for connections that'll provide their demoralizing daily routines with some meaning. Victor works a crap construction job and hangs around with a crew of deadbeat, drug-pushing friends; Kelly has an unhealthy relationship with her mother, a persuasive prostitute for a best friend, and an ex-boyfriend who's fresh out of jail and prone to disobeying the restraining order she's put into action. Randomly, inside a nightclub, Victor catches Kelly's eye, they dance, kiss, and then head back to her apartment for rounds of intense sex.

Victor soon learns that Kelly's bedroom habits aren't very innocent: She gets off on choking men as she rides them. And Victor, feeling the excitement from her hands around his neck that's otherwise absent to him, likes it. A few positive, heartwarming dates later, they're back underneath the sheets, but Kelly's kink gets out of control, waking Victor up to the fact that she might not be the ideal partner.

Evans shoots the film's toughest scenes—of which there are plenty, some that rival anything you'd find on our list of the 50 most disturbing movies—with an in-your-face bluntness that's assaults and mesmerizes. Kelly + Victor is a thing of beautiful dread, a symphony of sadness that leaves you wishing you could jump into the screen and save either one, or both, of the protagonists—a testament to Campbell-Hughes and Morris—from themselves.

You can't, of course, and Evans' devastating film makes you suffer for that. The distress, although difficult to stomach, is profound.

Director: Adam Wingard
Stars: Sharni Vinson, Nicholas Tucci, Wendy Glenn, AJ Bowen, Joe Swanberg, Rob Moran, Barbara Crampton, Margaret Laney, Amy Seimetz, Ti West

For independent horror aficionados, You're Next has become a Holy Grail of sorts. After premiering at the 2011 Toronto International Film Festival to rave reviews, director Adam Wingard's (A Horrible Way to Die, V/H/S) crafty home invasion flick was picked up for distribution by genre giant Lionsgate, the heads of which then limited its subsequent exposure to just one epic Fantastic Fest screening weeks later. With its post-festival buzz sky-high, You're Next fell victim to Lionsgate's merger with Summit Entertainment two months later, a business move that put the film on the back burner for two long, anticipation-laden years for those unfortunate enough to attend either TIFF or Fantastic Fest in 2011.

Now that You're Next finally has an August 23 release date, Lionsgate programmed Wingard's crowd-pleaser as one of SXSW's Midnighters, and the word-of-mouth has circulated throughout Austin since the first You're Next showing last Sunday night. But is it really the second coming of self-aware horror, a la The Cabin in the Woods?

Not quite, and it's all good. It's not going to reinvent horror—rather, You're Next is simply a vastly entertaining and well-staged blast of adrenaline, carnage, clever humor, and "final girl" subversion, the last of which is credited to standout star Sharni Vinson. Screenwriter Simon Barrett tweaks the overused "home invasion" sub-genre to pose the question: What happens when somebody actually fights back? At times, You're Next rocks with an energy comparable to The Strangers  on steroids, due to the three-way marriage of Wingard's kinetic direction, a breakneck pace once the violence sets in, and Vinson's serious ability to whoop tons of ass.

Before the bodies hit the floor, though, You're Next is actually a strong comedy of family dysfunction. It's Aubrey (beloved veteran scream queen Barbara Crampton) and Paul Davison's (Rob Moran) 35th wedding anniversary, and all four of their kids are coming over to their swanky, deep-in-the-woods mansion for dinner: the level-headed professor Crispin (AJ Bowen), the arrogant douchebag Drake (Joe Swanberg), the upbeat Aimee (Amy Seimetz), and the more subdued Felix (Nicholas Tucci). They each bring their significant other, Crispin's being Aussie cutie Erin (Vinson). During the contentious supper, there's a sudden—and well-executed on Wingard's part—attack via cross-bow, and from there You're Next speeds into overdrive.

Much has been said about how Barrett's script is one of horror's smartest in years, an opinion that'll only hold water with viewers who know slasher cinema well. Barrett conceives a few particularly stupid tactics for his characters to attempt in the course of life preservation, techniques that earned huge laughs from the in-the-know SXSW audience but could very well fall flat for August ticket-buyers who don't get the tongue-in-cheek jabs.

In one scene, someone thinks it'd be wise to fool the outdoor assailants by, get this, running at full speed through the front door, even though the killers have already shown that they're working the aforementioned cross-bow. The payoff is funny and savage, but it'll ring as little more than idiocy for people who've never seen moronic characters in '80s horror flicks off themselves through poor decision-making. 

The good news: Wingard and Barrett, thankfully, don't keep You're Next strictly for insiders. Once Vinson's Erin starts complicating the attackers' plan, the film upgrades into a raucous, applause-worthy series of tense cat-and-mouse stalking, vicious beatdowns, and shots purposely designed to turn Vinson into the best horror movie heroine since the Neve Campbell's Sidney Prescott from the Scream  franchise.

Backed by an occasionally abrasive but wholly effective synth score that's clearly influenced by John Carpenter's sensibility, You're Next is the opposite of a slow-burn horror—it's fast, grim, and humorously mean-spirited. Hopefully Lionsgate handles its marketing properly this summer, because Wingard's long-awaited film really delivers on its promises of fun, jolting horror. It's a crossover movie that's waiting to find its mainstream following.

Director: James Ponsoldt
Stars: Miles Teller, Shailene Woodley, Brie Larson, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Kyle Chandler

Filmmakers don't always handle young love with much honesty—how often do on-screen romances get dealt with in realistic ways that viewers can relate to? The flash mob scene at the end of Friends With Benefits always comes to mind as an example of Hollywood's inclination toward exaggerated fairy tale conclusions.

Screenwriters Scott Neustadter and Michael H. Weberdon't seem to have any interest in those kinds of forcibly optimistic resolutions. First, they depicted a nice guy's emotional devastation caused by an incompatible partner in (500) Days of Summer; and for their follow-up screenplay, The Spectacular Now (based on the novel by Tim Tharp), the duo has taken it back to the uncertain coming-of-age high school days. The result is an uncommonly thoughtful and powerful examination of angst. It's also the second top-notch, character-powered dramedy from director James Ponsoldt, coming on the heels of last year's underrated Smashed. Like Neustadter and Weber, and proven by The Spectacular Now, Ponsoldt has a special voice.

In a performance that should officially turn him into a star, Miles Teller (21 and Over) plays Sutter, an aimless, borderline alcoholic kid whose girlfriend (Brie Larson) has just broken up with him; his father (Kyle Chandler) is nowhere to be seen; and his mother (Jennifer Jason Leigh) isn't exactly affectionate. To hide his  self-loathing, Sutter goes about his senior year being the perpetual class clown, a jokester who doesn't take anything seriously.

After a drunken bender, he gets woken up on a stranger's front lawn by Amy (Shailene Woodley), a slightly nerdy, far less popular classmate who reads comic books and has never had a boyfriend. There's an immediate connection, and it doesn't take long for Amy to fall head over heels as she inspires Sutter to confront his family issues and finally approach life with a straight face. But in The Spectacular Now, love doesn't necessarily conquer everything. Ponsoldt's film isn't concerned with taking the safe way out—it's at times surprising just how real The Spectacular Now keeps it, sending its characters headfirst into heartbreak, downward spirals, and physical harm.

And when the characters suffer, you're right there with them. Aside from its resonant themes, The Spectacular Now is furthermore a showcase for two of the best under-30 actors. Teller and Woodley have an effortless chemistry, even as their characters really go through it emotionally. When Sutter endangers himself by pushing back against what's good for him, you can't help but feel for the guy; as Amy becomes more and more blinded by her first love, you're own heart melts watching her helplessly encounter desire's darker sides. And when Sutter delicately pops Amy's cherry, it's a tender, excellently performed and masterfully staged moment.

Last year, the sleeper hit The Perks of Being a Wallflower blindsided critics with its atypically frank and fearless depiction of high schoolers who don't just flirt with chicks, bump uglies, and goof around in class—that film's characters are just as complicated as those in the best adult drama. Now that we've got The Spectacular Now (which will open theatrically in August), it's officially a burgeoning trend: the mature, reality-based teen movie. This is a very good thing.

Director: Alex Winter

Go ahead and admit it: You can't even remember the last time you trekked to a record store and actually purchased a compact disc. The rationale: Why waste hard-earned gas money driving to the nearest Best Buy when digital applications like iTunes and Spotify are effortlessly accessible from any desktop or laptop?

Now that online music providers are so readily available and simple to use, it's easy to forget about the cyber revolution that started it all: Napster, the file-sharing creation of a Massachusetts teenager named Shawn Fanning. Along with his co-founder, Sean Parker, and their trusty staff of mostly same-aged and similarly brilliant buddies, Fanning drastically altered the entire music industry, angered the likes of Lars Ulrich and Dr. Dre, and empowered young people by showing them that the Internet was theirs to inventively utilize, not their elders.

In his pulsating and extremely well-reported documentary Downloaded (another SXSW world premiere), actor turned filmmaker Alex Winter recounts Napster's unexpected rise and inevitable fall through firsthand accounts of all the major players, namely the usually reclusive Fanning and his more outgoing ex-partner, Parker. Upholding a balance of fairness, Winter affords nearly as much talking time to Fanning's enemies as he does to the Napster mastermind himself, interviewing several record label executives (including Columbia Records President Donny Iner) and musicians (Noel Gallagher, Beastie Boys member Mike D., Henry Rollins).

Many of Downloaded's best moments come from the clever ways in which Winter and his editor, Jacob Craycroft, weave in their surplus of archival footage—big laughs come from dated interviews with two out-of-touch Spice Girls and the pre-cyber-boom ignorance displayed by Katie Couric and Bryant Gumbel as to what this whole "Internet" thing is all about. That's what makes Downloaded so fascinating: It reminds us that, merely a little over a decade ago, the World Wide Web was an open terrain for any and all whiz kids to explore.

Without the efforts of Fanning and his colleagues, there'd be no Myspace< or Facebook—thus, in a way, Winter's film is the much-needed, real-life prequel to The Social Network.

Director: Shane Carruth
Stars: Amy Seimetz, Shane Carruth, Andrew Sensenig, Thiago Martins, Kathy Carruth, Meredith Burke

In 2004, hardcore and, more importantly, adventurous science fiction fans were blown away by a little independent time-travel film called Primer. Written and directed by first-time writer-director Shane Carruth, it's an astounding piece of brainy, uneasy plotting that, nine years later, still holds up for many as the best time-travel film ever made—a bold statement, sure, but singular experiences like Primer provoke such hyperbole.

Stemming from that response, the film's passionate supporters have since been anxiously awaiting Carruth's next move, and when his sophomore feature, Upstream Color, premiered at the Sundance Film Festival two months ago, the reactions ranged from emphatically positive to pass-the-Tylenol disorientation. At the very least, Carruth didn't disappoint.

Now that Upstream Color has elicited the same impact here at SXSW, there should be little doubt: The man remains indie cinema's most exciting new voice. And Upstream Color—an ambiguous and puzzling head trip that'll no doubt reward those who give it multiple viewings—is a surge of free-flowing imagination that tops Primer.

It's also a textbook example of a movie that's best seen with little to no prior knowledge of its plot machinations. But here's a little something to whet curious film buffs' appetites: Two morose strangers (Amy Seimetz and Carruth) meet on a train, slowly begin seeing each other, and have no idea that they share a common past experience that neither one of them truly understands. Somewhere not all that far from their city, meanwhile, resides an eccentric farmer with a giant pen full of pigs. How all of those pieces connect is what Carruth challenges audience members to formulate for themselves—the necessary details for comprehension are there, but laid out in such a way that posits Upstream Color as a slightly less menacing relative of Mulholland Drive.

Carruth is working on several artistic levels here. The film's core is the whirlwind romance, but, true to his idiosyncratic form, Carruth surrounds that beating heart with other particular influences, including body horror, bleak drama, and (bizarre) biology. Which, on the whole, could leave viewers cold if not for his ability to capture moments of sublime beauty.

Even at its most impenetrable, Upstream Color is a superb technical achievement. For its nuts-and-bolts filmmaking alone, the film is one to seek out immediately upon its April 5 self-distributed theatrical release. Just be sure to bring thinking caps and an open, willingly susceptible mind.

Directors: Joshua Oppenheimer, Christine Cynn, "Anonymous"

If someone you'd just met and had a wonderful chat with admitted that he had once killed dozens of people, would you be able to continue speaking with him? Or, for that matter, allow yourself to be entertained by his playful side as he charmed you with everything he's done since the murders?

Those are just two of the many questions that power the profoundly disturbing documentary The Act of Killing, a film in which the horrific somehow becomes banal, the real difficult to believe. Co-director Joshua Oppenheimer traveled to Indonesia, located a former right wing paramilitary baddie, named Anwar Congo, and presented him with a gutsy challenge: recreate some of the homicides Congo and his colleagues committed against Chinese people deemed "communists" back in the 1960s for both a feature film and Oppenheimer's making-of doc about their production. These days, Congo is a friendly, loving grandfather who's harboring sadness over his past actions, which prompts him to take part in Oppenheimer's work as a means to finally expose the brutal truth.

The Act of Killing is deeply surreal, capturing a sense of unsettling comedy by showing how much Congo's group of one-time killers, rapists, and torturers have playing dress-up on a movie set. Oppenheimer and his collaborators (Christine Cynn and "anonymous") wisely just let the subjects speak for themselves without utilizing any too-clever editing trickery or invasive newsreel footage to sway viewers' opinions as— if there's any response to The Act of Killing's featured players other than complicated discontent. In one moment, a father takes his wife and daughter to the mall for sweet, endearing family time, but minutes later he's casually reflecting upon the time when he walked down the street and offed every Chinese person he saw.

As Congo and his associates reveal in the film, the countless hours spent watching "gangster movies" inadvertently helped them to rationalize their crimes—the characters on screen in Hollywood releases seemed so cool that whenever they killed others, they felt just as cool. But in the present day, and this is where The Act of Killingreally soars, Congo receives the opportunity to live in the victim's shoes, portraying one of the innocents in a scene for the movie within the movie. It's during that instance where the monster's eyes truly open, though Oppenheimer doesn't go for the easy move of giving Congo a chance to repent—forgiveness isn't an option anymore.

Through The Act of Killing and its matter-of-fact depiction of mankind's worst members, the notion that, for some, taking another person's life can be as effortless as chewing gum is as amazingly startling as realizing that, for others, seeking redemption is utterly hopeless.

Director: Destin Daniel Cretton
Stars: Brie Larson, John Gallagher Jr., Kaitlyn Dever, Rami Malek, Keith Stanfield, Kevin Hernandez, Melora Walters

Short Term 12 has many scenes that resonate to the core, but there's one in particular where writer-director Destin Daniel Cretton lets his creative mastery shine.

In the eponymous foster care facility, 17-year-old Marcus (Keith Stanfield) is only a few weeks away from his 18th birthday and subsequent release back into normal society. Up until this point, he's been quiet and resistant to close interactions with anyone else inside Short Term 12. His unknown backstory comes to light, though, during a raw, profane, and powerful rap he's just written about the neglectful relationship he had with his drug-involved mother. As counselor Mason (The Newsroom's John Gallagher, Jr.) beats a drum alongside of Marcus and listens on with compassionate ears, the teen spills his heart out the only way he knows how to: through the written, rhythmic word.

It's those kinds of earnest shots of rich characterization that define Short Term 12, an all-access look into the lives of both the underprivileged kids who've done nothing to deserve their situations and the sympathetic adults who help them despite having their own issues to worry about. Calling the shots inside Short Term 12 is Grace (Brie Larson), Mason's on-the-low girlfriend who's brilliant when it comes to connecting with disenchanted youngsters. She's also harboring some dark inner demons, and when a new girl (Kaitlyn Dever) checks in and slowly reveals that she's the victim of parental abuse, Grace's ability to relate to such trauma points the imaginary "Help Me" sign towards her.

The most impressive aspect of Cretton's exceptional story is how he never teeters into melodrama. The film's heavier scenes are perfectly pitched, hitting high-points of emotional eruption without going too far. His technique for keeping Short Term 12 grounded? Finding the right times to add naturalistic levity. Taking its poignant subject matter into account, Cretton's knack for deriving big laughs from likable characters simply being themselves is apparent throughout the film—there's not a single false moment or forced joke.

Which, of course, wouldn't be possible if not for his altogether spot-on cast. Given the most to work with, Larson is Short Term 12's breakout. Having already shown big range in diverse projects like Rampart and 21 Jump Street, she's able to blend her comedic timing, dramatic chops, and previously unseen explosiveness into a multi-layered character who's ultimately the film's center. Short Term 12 won the Grand Jury Award for SXSW's narrative competition earlier this week, guaranteeing that it'll continue to win festival audiences over (yesterday's screening ended with nearly a full minute's worth of applause)—meaning, Larson's agent should anticipate an influx of phone calls and emails in the coming months.

Films of Short Term 12's ilk are what festivals like SXSW are all about: little productions with large amounts of quality in search for people to discover them. There are, naturally, exceptions in every fest, but when something like Cretton's film comes along, it's a reminder of why long screening lines and late nights working on laptops are all worth it.