Sunday

Despite world-class performances by David Suchet (PBS' Hercule Poirot) and Lisa Harrow (The Last Days of Chez Nous), Jonathan Nossiter's gimmicky Sundance prize-winner disappoints, largely because it's just too darn coy for its own good. A middle-aged woman named Madeleine spots a middle-aged man across a busy Queens intersection, and recognizes him as noted movie director Matthew Delacorta. Well and good, except that he's just been introduced as a homeless man by the name of Oliver, during an opening credits sequence that takes place at a men's shelter, where he apparently lives. Is he a homeless man pretending to be a movie director...or a movie director pretending to be a homeless man, seeking ideas for a script? Does she really think that he's Matthew Delacorta, or is she just pretending to think that he's Matthew Delacorta? If the latter, is she playing along with the charade to spare his feelings, or to mess with his mind? A little ambiguity is always desirable, but Sunday is so ambiguous that it ultimately seems meaningless--little more than an elaborate practical joke that the filmmakers are playing on the audience. Still, the actors are so riveting that this remains a strong optional purchase. (M. D'Angelo)