Here at Bright Lights, our most important product is ReaderCare™. Unlike other publications that take your money and laugh at your (many) troubles, we're constantly seeking ways to make you feel better. You complain about "too much subtext!" Presto! It's gone. You whine about "too many articles!" Voila! We cut the number. We know how busy you are, so busy you can barely think, much less read in any depth. We don't want to add to the bitter tragedy you call existence, so we've slimmed down this issue to a tasty, compact, easily digestible 24 articles. We even asked our writers to try to avoid too many "ideas" or "insights" — though, alas, they didn't always listen. Shockingly, some of them seemed to take this simple request as a challenge, brazenly inserting even more ideas and insights into their articles than usual! Hey, we tried. Now it's on to Bright Lights!

Skipping into the features foyer, we find Gordon Thomas' enticing exegesis of two once-elusive Peter Watkins masterpieces: Edvard Munch and The Freethinker. BL stalwart Andrew Grossman chimes in, literally, with a wide-ranging exploratory of film scores and a whole lot more. And Lesley Chow gives her all — which is always considerable — to two underrated Cukor films.

Sneaking into the articles antechamber brings us to Dave Saunders' fascinating critique that samples City of God, literacy, and other worthy tropes. Erich Kuersten weighs in with a crackling tribute to Naomi Watts that finds all manner of meaning in the film persona of one of our faves. Three first-time contributors have also taken up residence with Dave and Erich. Amy Abugo Ongiri intriguingly opposes hillbilly exploitation with blaxploitation and finds surprising common ground. Joseph Aisenberg makes an excellent tour guide for Wes Anderson's peculiar, and perhaps diminishing, world. And Andrew Schenker provocatively examines actors versus stars.

Whirling around the recent cinema roundabout, we pause mid-careen to discover 4 Months, 3 Weeks, & 2 Days via Megan Ratner's typically sharp study; L'Âge des Ténèbres through Neil Rogachevsky's thoughtful review; Death Proof courtesy of Erich Kuersten's vigorous analysis; and I Am Legend by way of David Pike's lively inquiry.

Solemnly proceeding into the empty guest room reveals two occupants this time: most bitterly, Heath Ledger, in a fine eulogy by Justin Vicari; and the incomparable Charles Boyer, celebrated in Dan Callahan's inimitable style. Damon Smith went to Sundance this year so we (and you) didn't have to. There he lured Gregg Araki into the interrogation alcove for a pithy chat. Alan Jacobson, who's been away too long, visits two BL spaces this issue: the documentary dormer for a penetrating look at Jesus Camp and the revival room for a rollicking ride on Jim Jarmusch's Mystery Train. Elsewhere in the revival room, a variety of films appear. G. S. Morris (no relation to your editor) handily explicates the 1936 all-black Green Pastures; Dan Callahan fetes Lili and Leslie Caron with panache; and yours truly disinters a review of Bloody Mama from his rare and strange 1985 book on Roger Corman.

Speaking of returns, two of BL's favorite international film festivals have once again come a-callin': Chicago, rendered in Bob Keser's ever-enchanting prose; and Thessaloniki, from the sparkling pen of Cleo Cacoulidis. Gordon Thomas and yours truly wrap it up with the former's always illuminating "Bright Sights" DVD roundup, and the latter's "Little Stabs of Happiness (and Horror)," back after enough happiness and horror had accumulated on the shelves (and in the world) to warrant the resurrection.

Peace out (and in).