The first feature-length Hal Hartley in how long? $12 = $10 + $2 in fees at Facets Cinemateque, the somewhat-close indie arthouse that I only just discovered, with six others at 7pm. He got the band back together (Bill Sage, Martin Donovan, Karen Sillas, Parker Posey, James Urbaniak, Robert John Burke, and not the least, Thomas Jay Ryan), and placed Gen Y in the lead: Liam Aiken full-grown as Ned, and Aubrey Plaza, who I didn't know from Eve. Vintage Hartley this sometimes is, though it also nods at Lolita with a self nudie and some seriously age-inappropriate sex that should perhaps have been comedic or revelatory. (Marla's timeless line from Fight Club springs to mind.) I missed the pivotal deli from Henry Fool, anchored in silence by Hartley's wife. I regret missing out on the kickstarter. I wonder if he'll play that trick again.
Ben Sachs at the Reader spends most of his time reflecting on Hartley himself, though his leader-writer can't get his eyes off Plaza. I can't put her and Adrienne Shelley in the same frame. His review has the salients. Ben Kenigsberg concurs that the writing was on the wall but is now too faded to read.