Moss

With its sensory immersion in nature and its yearning characters, the gorgeously shot film is a memorable study of solitude and connection.

There’s an edge to the head-trip and the river journey, a sense not just of the characters’ freedom but also of their limited options and never-articulated desperation.

In addition to its scenic virtues, there’s a pleasant sense of life’s innate harmoniousness here.

With its gently twanging score, Moss is a film made in a minor key and its pleasures are minor, too. It passes like a lazy afternoon spent gently high. There’s not much this movie wants to accomplish, but it maintains a mood that sets the mind at ease.

Daniel Peddle's film emphasizes, for better and worse, the crushing monotony of living in insolated parts of the Deep South.

Given the script’s basic dialogue and narrow characterizations, it’s fortunate that there’s such an evocative locale to help us further imagine the lives of the film’s idiosyncratic folks.