Whoa, where did this Kelly Reichardt come from? Before we've hit the three-minute mark we've seen zippy Truffaut-style still photo montages, campy, splattery murder scenes recalling John Waters, a bit of nudity and what On the Hour referred to as the corrupting influence of bebop jazz. I imagine at the time this was referred to as Tarantino-esque - it was released in the same year as Pulp Fiction - though I'm increasingly coming to think early Tarantino was just the most complete expression of a set of proudly trashy, transgressive aesthetic and narrative concerns that so many of his generation were into. If he hadn't existed, maybe his position in popular culture would have been taken by Gregg Araki, or…

River of Grass deserves to be mentioned alongside those unique and remarkably auspicious debut features that sprung onto the American independent scene in the early to mid-nineties. A list that includes, but is not limited to, Quentin Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs, Wes Anderson's Bottle Rocket, Kevin Smith's Clerks, Lodge Kerrigan's Clean, Shaven and Paul Thomas Anderson's Hard Eight.

Written and directed by Kelly Reichardt (b. 1964), the film is an astutely rendered neo-noir that partakes in the genre's conventions in order to cunningly subvert them. However, unlike a number of other such films, it feels like the genuine, thoughtfully fleshed out article rather than another tired, self-conscious exercise. Reichardt, who was born and raised in Miami, has suitably set her effort…

This film by Kelly Reichardt is like a proto-mumblecore version of Bandlands. A Goddard's Breathless featuring a pair of bumbling dimwits. You could call this American New Stupid cinema.

This is the story of a woman whose life went too fast and she never quite caught up with it. Surrounded by a husband and three kids, she does cartwheels and daydreams in her yard.

And then there is a man whose life went so slow he is thirty going on fifthteen. He still lives in his grandmother's house and his best mate sneaks in through his bedroom window just to hang out after dark.

The River of Grass as we learn from the woman's almost affectless, slightly dazed narration is…

Watched in preparation for seeing First Cow at a screening with Kelly Reichardt Friday.

Appearing to half heartedly channel Malick’s brilliant debut of Badlands, Kelly Reichardt strives for poetry in the swamps of Florida, but mostly comes up empty. The very definition of 90s micro budget indie cinema, River of Grass creates some screen-worthy characters and a reasonable set up for tension and drama, as Godard would say, “all you need is a gun and a girl.” Yet it doesn’t know where to go once the plot is set in motion.

Clearly budget limitations, with which she no longer struggles, hamper the film, though Reichardt gets a reasonable enough performance from first (and only) time actress Lisa Bowman in the…