Beeswax

Beeswax, at first glance a modest, ragged slice of contemporary life, turns out to be a remarkably subtle, even elegant movie.

It all feels studiously artless - some people huffily insist that Bujalski’s movies aren’t movies at all - but the more you contemplate his landscapes, the more his control over their various elements is revealed. He’s the real deal: a maturing artist obsessed with how and why - and if - his generation will mature.

Beeswax has a rhythmic quality, and it eschews conventional plotting for sharp observation of human strengths and foibles.

Beeswax exemplifies post-mumble maturity. The movie is not only semi-documentary, but also casually thoughtful (or at least self-reflexive)--working with friends is what Bujalski does in creating his own particular Storyville.

While it initially feels like a known quantity (although mentioning the "M"-word – mumblecore – is both pointless and distracting), Beeswax proves to be much more than simply another extreme close-up of late-twentysomething naifs trying to gather enough energy to flail about, emotionally or otherwise.

Fans of Andrew Bujalski's previous mumblecore movies are the likeliest audience for his latest, a modest, slice-of-life indie that doesn't quite live up to his ­earlier efforts.

This is another rough-edged, noodling affair in which genial but frustratingly self-absorbed twenty- and thirty-somethings chatter on and on about their lives, loves and finances.