The Chosen Ones

THE KINDERGARTEN TEACHER (B) - This has all the elements of an indie powerhouse, but it too often feels like a patchwork created from other works. It is the story of a teacher in Tel Aviv who nurtures the poetic gifts of her 5-year-old student but grows over-protective of him to the point of obsession.

Nira (Sarit Larry) is a diehard devotee of the poetic form, with a high schooler's devotion to the idea that this unfeeling world just doesn't understand those sensitive types. When little Yoav shows up, Nira develops a maternal instinct that throws off her radar for rationality. She challenges the boy's father and uncle to push for his poems to be published, but they seem to be of no help. How far will she go in the name of art?

Nira also is unnervingly jealous of Miri (Ester Rada), Yoav's nanny, scheming to undermine the young woman's role in the boy's life. The interplay between the actresses, Larry and Rada, is both a little too catty and underdeveloped to be effective. Larry has a striking face, with hollowed eyes and a sharp nose. Rada, a noted singer, is statuesque and captivating. Writer-director Nadav Lapid captures them both from memorable angles, but his ardor for Rada in particular is distracting.

Lapid comes off as a disciple of Belgium's Dardenne brothers, two giants of indie realism. Lapid's over-the-shoulder camerawork and intense close-ups serve that devotion more than the production. He also succumbs to a few crucial idiot-plot devices in order to navigate to the film's disturbing climax. Other quirks come off as arty. For example, at times Nira or Miri will scramble to find a pen and notebook in order to transcribe Yoav's random bursts of inspiration that pour out of him whole, and sometimes they miss one of his little masterpieces; never does either of them think to record him on their phone. And the opening scene, in which Nira's husband is lazing to a vapid TV show, is a clunky way of setting up the contrast between the two worlds that Nira straddles.

This is beautiful to look at and compelling at times. But the parts don't add up to a truly satisfying whole.

APPROACHING THE ELEPHANT (C-minus) - It might be difficult to imagine the hell created by opening a totally free-form "school" where elementary-age children do whatever they want, with no structure, indulged by lenient ideological hipsters. I do know the hell of watching that experiment captured on film.

This documentary travels to a hole in the wall dubbed the Teddy McArdle Free School in Little Falls, New Jersey, where students are not required to attend classes and where they create all the school's rules by democratic vote, sharing an equal voice with the "teachers" and "administrators." Sounds like an interesting concept and topic for a film. It's not.

Newcomer Amanda Wilder overdoses on classic techniques of the Wiseman/Maysles school of fly-on-the-wall auteurism. She shoots in black-and-white and provides no narration or talking heads, using only a couple of brief opening title cards to set the scene. If only she had a substantive story to tell.

Instead, it's no exaggeration to report that most of the 90 minutes consists exclusively of 8- to 10-year-olds yelling and screaming and beating each other like the spoiled brats they almost certainly are. Much of the rest of the footage features the school's founder and assistants trying to patiently reason with the kids and treat them like little adults. Anyone -- child or adult -- can call a meeting at any time to hash out an issue, a concept that is moderately interesting the first time or two, but not the eighth or ninth time. The cacophony is relentless.

This could conceivably be tolerable if there were a grand point to make, perhaps an editorial comment on the usefulness of this radical hippie alternative to the Three R's of the public school system. No luck.

Wilder seeks to humanize a few of the children, including adorable, picked-on, lisping Lucy and the chief hellion, Jiovanni, who threatens to derail the entire operation. (It's hard to tell, but it appears that there are only about a dozen students occupying a rented church space.) Unfortunately, the drama of children falls far short of the minimum required for grown-up entertainment.

If I missed the point of this production, I apologize. With all the screeching I could hardly hear myself think.