Matt Caruso

Two lighthouse keepers try to maintain their sanity while living on a remote and mysterious New England island in the 1890s.

After years of caring exclusively for the needs of her husband and children, Agnes, a devoted housewife living in a small town near New York, has found something she really enjoys doing: solving puzzles.

A group of eccentric assassins are fed up with Gunther, the world's greatest hitman, and decide to kill him – but their plan turns into a series of bungled encounters as Gunther seems to always be one step ahead.

An immersive and enthralling journey through the Sonoran Desert on the U.S.-Mexico border, El Mar La Mar weaves together harrowing oral histories from the area with hand-processed 16mm images of flora, fauna and items left behind by travelers. Subjects speak of intense, mythic experiences in the desert: A man tells of a fifteen-foot-tall monster said to haunt the region, while a border patrolman spins a similarly bizarre tale of man versus beast. A sonically rich soundtrack adds to the eerie atmosphere as the call of birds and other nocturnal noises invisibly populate the austere landscape. Emerging from the ethos of Harvard's Sensory Ethnography Lab, J.P. Sniadecki's attentive documentary approach mixes perfectly with Joshua Bonnetta's meditations on the materiality of film. Together, they've created an experience of the border region like nothing you've seen, heard or felt before.

A week in the life of Paterson, a poet bus driver, and his wife Laura, a very creative artist, who live in Paterson, New Jersey, hometown of many famous poets and artists.

Peter Dunning is a rugged individualist in the extreme, a hard-drinking loner and former artist who has burned bridges with his wives and children and whose only company, even on harsh winter nights, are the sheep, cows, and pigs he tends on his Vermont farm. Peter is also one of the most complicated, sympathetic documentary subjects to come along in some time, a product of the 1960s counterculture whose poetic idealism has since soured. For all his candor, he slips into drunken self-destructive habits, cursing the splendors of a pastoral landscape that he has spent decades nurturing.

The best part of getting old is no longer caring what anybody thinks. Eighty years-old and in assisted living, Ralph Pajovic is involved in a relationship that makes his family anxious. On a crisp, winter day, his unlucky-in-love granddaughter comes for what seems like an ordinary visit. A curmudgeon by nature, Ralph can’t possibly predict the surprise she has in store for him.