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The second Sun is a bittersweet, somewhat dark, but interesting examination of two lost souls - or some would call them losers - who bare themselves over the course of a long night. Each shares their histories and secrets, slowly revealing their respective pasts and pain. The story examines intimacy, vulnerability, and trust.

It reminded me of the Terrence McNally play, Frankie and Johnny in the Clair de Lune. Two people share intimacies, slowly and carefully open up to each other, and get to understand the fears and vulnerabilities of the other.

In The Second Sun, the first meeting between the two protagonists occurs in a purely impersonal way, as Max serves a woman, who he later finds is named Joy, at the little café where he works. Then, by coincidence, they meet, late at night, at an otherwise mostly empty bar.

Max believes their meeting is more than an accident. But Joy keeps wishing he'd leave her be. But while she could leave, she doesn't. She's lets Max repeatedly draw her back into conversation. She needs to know more about the man's past. And she needs to share her own past, and a repressed pain she holds deep inside.

Basically, the film unfolds like a 2-person play. There are other, incidental characters who round out the story, and help reveal and illustrate the past. I've seen criticisms that say the film is too "theatrical," too much like a play.

What's wrong with that? Plays are what drama is all about. And this one distills the drama of two lonely, desperate, but star-crossed people quite well.

The stage-like performances bestows a deep intimacy to the action. The sepia toned flashback scenes provide context and tone to their personalities. Very nicely done.

If you're looking for a movie with lasers, explosions, and car chases, this ain't it. But if you're in the frame of mind to watch a story about romance and nuance, this just might be the ticket.

If I have one criticism of this movie, it's that at one point there is a revelation about a tattoo from Auschwitz. It looks like it was typed on an arm using a typewriter, instead of the crude, hand-drawn numbers that authentically marked victims of the holocaust at this camp.

Someone on the production team, I'm afraid, was woefully unaware of their subject material when it came to this important detail.