dir. Tatia Rosenthal

This odd, stop-motion, urban fairy tale—written by Israeli author Etgar Keret, directed by animator Tatia Rosenthal—follows the tangentially interconnected lives of one apartment building's sad, curious residents. A little boy receives a coin for each glass of milk he finishes ("But remember: If you throw up, no money") but winds up more attached to his piggy bank than the toy he originally coveted. A lonely old man has no one to talk with but a foul-mouthed angel. A middle-aged cynic witnesses that same angel's death. Twice. The cynic's youngest son, kind of a loser but great at baking cheesecake, buys a pamphlet for $9.99 that claims to contain the meaning of life. His brother, a repo man, encounters the difficulties of repossessing a wizard's house and later goes to debilitating lengths for love. Humans swim like dolphins and drop like stones.

$9.99 is a slow, unsettling film, but feels excessively writerly: as though Keret sat down and donned his Now I Shall Write Some Stories and They Shall Be Meaningful cap. It's distractingly uneven. The debilitating-lengths-for-love story line (it involves hair removal, initially, as well as a waxy, stop-motion penis) vacillates between the most compelling and the most groaningly ham-handed. Occasional moments are light, almost funny ("Everyone in heaven has a limo." "And who drives their limos?" "All sorts of people—especially foreigners. Without visas"); others are almost significant. Like, say, just a penny short.