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Florida. Arizona. Nevada. These were the states in which homes were most overvalued during the early millennium during the deregulation the mortgage industry. Consequently, when the housing bubble collapsed in 2008, these were the states hardest hit. A story about one man's struggle with the housing market catastrophe is the subject of Ramin Bahrani's new film, 99 Homes. It is at once sad and somewhat terrifying to watch.

Andrew Garfield plays Dennis Nash, an Orlando homebuilder, HVAC repairman, and all-around Mr. Fix-It, who loses his job during the disintegration of the housing market. Unable to make payments on his modest home, he, his mother, and his son are evicted by two sheriffs and real estate mogul Rick Carver, played by Michael Shannon. They move into a motel full of other families in the same dire situation – some of whom have lived there as long as two years. Nash shows up at Carver's office one morning requesting his men return the building tools they stole from him during the eviction. Carver admires the young man's acumen. Then, in an ironic plot-twist only found in the movies, he hires Nash – the man he had just evicted the day before.

At first, Nash is hired for his handyman skills – disconnecting & removing air-conditioner condensing units from foreclosed homes, removing kitchen appliances, and so forth. Carver is a dislikeable taskmaster, but it's good pay for an honest day's work. Still, Nash doesn't reveal his new employer to his mother or son, lest they possess moral ambiguity about the situation. But, as luck would have it, soon the quick-learning and affable Nash is performing as many evictions as Carver himself. And his pay increases.

While the ruthless Carver shows no outward sympathy for the evictees, Nash has a heart, and his more compassionate style plays well with those forced from their homes. Some of these evictions are downright depressing, albeit very realistic. We cannot help but put ourselves in the shoes of the homeowners forced to leave their dwellings. It's not easy to watch, but evictions are the inevitable conclusion of overvalued real estate.

In another incongruous plot-twist, Nash returns most of his early paychecks to his boss, requesting that he be allowed to buy back his old bungalow. When he sells the small house and buys a mansion, his family balks. Nash has now reached the end of his rope. His mother and the boy move to her sister's home in Tampa, while Nash is left to contemplate the deterioration of his life. Is the money worth the ethical atrocity of his work? Can he continue to evict homeowners who miss so few as two mortgage payments through no fault of their own – even though the evictions are perfectly legal? These are the dilemmas of 99 Homes, and Andrew Garfield gives the best performance of his young career as the troubled Dennis Nash. Nash is a simple, decent man who works hard, and is completely devoted to his family. We all know Dennis Nash. We all like him. He is everyman. And Michael Shannon's Rick Carver is the jerk we don't want to know. His role is that of Michael Douglas in Wall Street. We can practically hear Carver giving the "Greed is good" speech from that film. In 99 Homes, the most remembered speech will be Carver's articulation that the United States helps those who are successful, as opposed to those who are not – exactly the opposite definition of a socialist democracy, but it certainly makes us wonder about our own country.

Garfield and Shannon are excellent, and I hope academy voters don't forget them come Oscar time. My only complaint is that the ending is ambiguous. I can't tell you more without spoiling it, but if you struggle with it, please comment and we can discuss it. Now that I've contemplated the ending, I have a good idea what Bahrani was trying to convey, but the closure comes as quickly as in a David Mamet film. Don't expect a denouement. There isn't one.

And throughout, I was reminded of Michael Moore's first film, Roger And Me, in which he shows a Flint, Michigan sheriff evicting a former General Motors employee and his family on Christmas Eve, as GM CEO Roger Smith babbles on about how Christmas is the happiest time of year. Unlike 99 Homes, that was a real eviction captured on film for posterity. Therefore, it hits even harder than the scripted evictions of 99 Homes.

Still, 99 Homes is worth seeing. It's one of the best films so far this fall.

Years before he hit big with "Brokeback Mountain," Taiwanese-American director Ang Lee released what I consider to be an even better film, 1997's "The Ice Storm." Kevin Kline and Joan Allen play Ben and Elena Hood, a seemingly happily-married suburban couple in 1973 Connecticut. Tobey Maguire and the still teenage Christina Ricci play their children, Paul and Wendy. But alas, all is not as vanilla as it seems, for Ben is having an affair with a neighbor, Janey Carver, played by Sigourney Weaver, in her best (and most vulnerable) performance ever. Ironically, daughter Wendy is sexually experimenting with Janey's son Sandy.

The Hoods and the Carvers both attend the same "key party," a form of swinging in which the women draw the men's car keys from a bowl, then sleep with the owner of the keys. Here, Janey's husband, Jim (Jamey Sheridan) realizes his wife is having an affair with their neighbor. He and Elena spend the night together too, then return to find their teenage children in bed with one another. So two families, one affair, and three liaisons. Yes, Kevin Kline stars, but this is not some fraternity-level comedy. This is a serious, heartbreaking dramatic representation of the ashes burned from the sexual revolution of the 1970s – all played against the backdrop of a New England ice storm brewing outside.

Those of us too young to participate have a tendency to think of the sexual revolution as some kind of wild, ongoing swingers' party, in which partners were traded and swapped like baseball cards, and those unfortunate enough to be married would certainly play along without feeling any repercussions to the traditional family structure. This is obviously an inaccurate description, and Ang Lee brilliantly illuminates the anguish experienced by many families. I suppose the most distressful relationship of all is that of the sexually-catechizing teenagers. Studies have shown children mimic their parents, and if their parents are sleeping together, well then… The performances are all first-rate, especially Sigourney Weaver, who was nominated for a Supporting Actress Golden Globe award. And it's revealing to watch Christina Ricci at 17 years old, in her first "adult" role. Her Wendy character carries herself with the poise of her mother, yet with the guilelessness of a child. James Schamus' screenplay (a winner at the Cannes Film Festival that year) features some of the most candid and open dialogue I've ever witnessed. Lee smartly refrains from overdirecting – letting his star cast elucidate the material effectively. Kline and Weaver let us into the hearts and souls of their philandering characters, allowing us not so much to judge them, but to feel their pain, as it were. We not only bear witness to their struggles, but we develop a connection to their very souls.

Unfortunately, "The Ice Storm" was simply lost in the shuffle of all the great motion pictures of 1997 – the box office champ and critical success "Titanic," Curtis Hanson's "L.A. Confidential," Paul Thomas Anderson's first classic "Boogie Nights," Matt Damon's and Ben Affleck's breakout film "Good Will Hunting," and Dustin Hoffman in "Wag The Dog." Plus Robert Duvall and Peter Fonda turned in the best performances of their long, successful careers with "The Apostle" and "Ulee's Gold," respectively. There simply wasn't room for "The Ice Storm" in the conversation, although it certainly deserves its place on the mantle of the many virtuoso films of 1997. This was one of the finest films of one of the best years ever for motion pictures.

Every now and then, a movie comes along that is "perfect." Christian Petzold's "Phoenix" is such a film. I wouldn't change a single scene; not one shot. It's an ideal motion picture, exactly the way Petzold made it.

A phoenix is a person or thing which has been renewed or restored following some sort of calamity or tragedy. This definition has several meanings within the context of the film.

Nina Hoss plays Jewish lounge singer Nelly Lenz, whose face is badly disfigured in an accident during the liberation of the concentration camps at the end of World War II. Her friend and fellow survivor, Lene (Nina Kunzendorf) takes her to a plastic surgeon who reconstructs Nelly's face as close to its original countenance as possible.

Nelly and Lene move into an apartment together, as neither has any remaining family members. Initially for reasons of safety, Lene concerns herself with a potential move to Palestine, where she can help with the creation of a Jewish state. But Nelly spends her nights meandering the streets of Berlin, searching for her husband (and former pianist), Johnny. With tips from various lowlifes and street performers, Nelly finally finds Johnny running a nightclub. With her reconstructed face, he doesn't recognize Nelly, but she looks similar enough that he employs her in a plot to retrieve Nelly's inheritance.

Johnny believes Nelly was killed in the concentration camps, but he is unable to produce any evidence. So he exploits Esther (the name Nelly uses) to portray his wife for a group of their friends, with the goal of reclaiming Nelly's sizeable estate. He offers "Esther" half.

So how's that for a set-up? The great German actress Nina Hoss spends the bulk of this picture playing a woman pretending to learn to be herself, if you will, for a husband whose motives are anything but pure. Sort of makes "Victor/Victoria" seem routine by comparison. As Johnny, Ronald Zehrfeld is flawless. He's just hot-tempered enough to potentially be a danger to Nelly/Esther, but it's obvious he still harbors deep feelings for his wife. And he does have some ambiguity that his plan will succeed.

Contrast this to how Hollywood would have handled this material. Johnny would have been portrayed as a jerk, Nelly would have been as pristine as Mary Poppins, and the final scene – the "big reveal" – would have been staged to satisfy even the most disconcerted of viewers. Here, the final scene is downplayed in a manner that would have made Alfred Hitchcock proud. Hence, it is the most satisfying final scene I've seen on screen since Bruce Dern drove his new pick-up truck through the streets of his old hometown in "Nebraska." And there's no denouement. No extra scenes at the end to tie up loose ends. As intelligent viewers, we're invited to do so on our own.

As for the title, "Phoenix" is the name of the club where Nelly finds Johnny. It also epitomizes Nelly's reawakening from a woman whose very identity is stripped from her, to a strong woman capable of fighting her own battles. And on yet another level, the entire Jewish race experienced a phoenix during the time between the liberation of the concentration camps and the establishment of the sovereign state of Israel in 1948.

The fact that such a seemingly "small" film should connect on so many tiers is a testament to the brilliant yet subtle direction of Christian Petzold. This may very well be the best German film I've seen since Volker Schlondorff's "The Tin Drum," clear back in 1979.