The Safdies, armed with Sean Price Williams, continue to have an unfailingly perfect ability to film old sweat on a person who's been walking all day, that thin glaze that hangs off of people. There are many spellbinding shots in the film that feel completely tactile - the dull haze of TV screens illuminating dark rooms, the permanent fog inside a smoker'a house, smears of neon signs - but the truly transfixing presence is that of Connie, a man just…

It's easy, if one only ever has to suffer a few times a year the no-budget, no-talent indies dumped on one-week NY runs and burned onto screener discs, to have a charmed view of what constitutes a bad film. Truth be told, with the number of films produced domestically exploding in recent years thanks to mass proliferation of acceptable-quality, cheap DV, it's a good bet that the vast majority of American movies made each year now consist of films made…