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A quietly elegant little movie (because it refuses to push anything) about family and the finale of the older generation, A SHORT HISTORY OF DECAY, written and directed by first-timer Michael Maren, is a beautifully rendered piece of Americana as it exists today, mid economic (and most every other kind of) decline. And yet this movie is not actually depressing. Oddly enough, it is simply too plain and too real for that. It accepts what is and must be (even if its characters have some difficulty doing so) and therefore liberates us, the audience, to look upon reality and understand it.

Mr. Maren, shown at left, is no spring chicken; his career and interests prior to filmmaking seem to have groomed him to look at life and people and events with a dry, incisive eye. Along the way in this movie, and without making any big thing of it, he quietly nails odd moments of family behavior, sibling (and spousal) rivalry, right through to that instant in which our near-hero sees an attractive woman on the beach and a moment later we realize that it's his aging mother -- mistook or maybe remembered from a much earlier time. You don't get this kind of stuff in most American independent movies, and certainly not served up as well and in such unshowy fashion.

We begin in the ever more gentrified Brooklyn, in which our slacker leading man, Nathan (the first-rate Bryan Greenberg, above), less a failed writer than one who has simply never finished anything, begins a morning dispute with his significant other, Erika (Emmanuelle Chriqui, below), a high-powered woman with a first novel about be published. How this scene ends is both funny and surprising.

An unexpected phone call regarding his parents sends Nathan down to Florida, to mom (Linda Lavin, below, right), dad (Harris Yulin, below, left) and -- eventually -- older brother (Benjamin King), where, of course, family history, along with past and present problems bubble up and spill over. Aging, Alzheimer's, stroke, money problems, love and lust jockey for position, but Maren never lets any one thing take the lead for long. He juggles character and events with consummate skill, balancing the comedy of life with its inevitable tragedy -- and shows us a lot of the interesting moments in between.

You might call the film a kind of comedy, but it's so quiet and unforced that you'll smile more readily than laugh out loud. The drama is certainly there, yet it's so unforced that it never for a moment becomes melodrama. Characters are written and acted very well by the entire ensemble cast -- which includes a lovely, radiant and savvy Kathleen Rose Perkins (below) as mom's manicurist; a hot, svelte Rebecca Dayan as the young lady Nathan meets at a local bar/restaurant; and Barbara Weetman as the smart, if slightly pushy bartender.

What is especially remarkable here is how clever are the performers, together with their writer/director, in never going too far. They behave, rather than "act." Less is more has rarely proved so enjoyable or so on-the-mark.

A kind of psychological mystery that tends toward the thriller genre that is a also finely-tuned character study that features a brilliant performance from its leading lady and--most tellingly of all--approaches how we live now and the events of 9/11/01 with an original perspective that makes that day frightening again in a whole new manner (and that's a mere portion of what you'll get), SORRY, HATERS is so shocking in so many surprising ways that I haven't stopped thinking about it for several days. It succeeds as entertainment, provocation and mind-expander, and seems to grow more powerful and mysterious the more I consider it.

Robin Wright Penn, who has helped improve movie after movie from "The Princess Bride" through "Forest Gump," "White Oleander" and "Nine Lives," reaches a new plateau here: that of taking absolute ownership of a film. She manages this despite the very fine work of the rest of the cast, which includes Sandra Oh, Josh Hamilton, Elodie Bouchez and an especially rich and beautiful performance from leading man Abdel Kechiche (who is himself writer/director of the 2005 Cesar-winning French film "L'Esquive"). The writer/director of "Sorry Haters" is Jeff Stanzler, who made the interesting "Jumpin' at the Boneyard" back in 1992, and two short films since. That this 2005 piece didn't put Stanzler on the map of big-time movie makers will remain as mysterious to me as does his movie.

I will say no more about the film, except that you might, at its conclusion, want to turn to the Special Features and watch the round-table discussion between a group that includes Tim Robbins, Mary Louise Parker and Julian Schnabel, all of whom seem as blown away by the film as was I. Certainly, for all of us, Muslims in America and a sweet phrase like "I want to give you something my parents gave me" may now resonate in quite a different manner.

If you want to spend around 45 minutes with a photographer and his male nude subjects, you could do a lot worse than LIMITES (you could rent or buy the ludicrous "Private Diary," for instance). The best part of the film is the beginning, as photographer Carlos Quiroz shoots his model Daniel, and we see how they work together (Quiroz asks, Daniel delivers), the gorgeous contours of the model's body and even the beginning of a rather studly erection.

Nothing else in the film ever quite achieves this level of beauty, art and, if you will, mild pornography. Other models are indeed attractive, Quiroz occasionally spills some beans about how he works and thinks, and there is some interesting narration that addresses art, pornography and one's idea of these. As directed by Jose Torrealba, even at its short length, the movie seems a bit padded and repetitive, but for those inclined there is plenty engage the eye and a little to alert the mind.