With or without your consent, the age of the internet is bringing to the fore increasingly personalized navel-gazing oeuvres (some like to call it "new media"). In film, this is arguably most apparent in the irksomely, if appropriately, emo-sounding "mumblecore" movement. Characterized by low production values and subject matter close to the hearts of its artsy, young creators (read: who-am-I-and-where-am-I-going? angst), the genre has been criticized for its lack of outward searching for subject matter, often inspires Cassavetes comparisons, and is valued for its realism and authority thumbing.

The Duplass brothers, Jay and Mark, are among the most prominent under the mumblecore umbrella, achieving wide-ish notability with 2005's The Puffy Chair. Baghead maintains the established vibe, but just when you're sure you're over it, the Duplasses and their cast, which includes Greta Gerwig (the closest mumblecore has to a starlet) start to resemble something much more interesting. Part rambling bullshit, part old-school horror movie, part comedy, and part drama, Baghead manages to lift its gaze away from its bellybutton long enough to toy interestingly with some of the film industry's moldier classifications.

The premise is that four struggling actors—Michelle (Gerwig), along with Matt (Ross Partridge), Chad (Steve Zissis), and Catherine (Elise Muller)—retreat to a cabin to devise the motion picture that is going to make them all famous. Cue pathetic attempts at brainstorming corrupted by booze and lack of imagination, mundane crushes and love triangles, and ultimately a laughable idea for a horror movie: a mysterious predatory psycho with a bag over his head, something that came to Michelle in a drunken dream... or did it?! Etc.

Baghead's fumbling isn't all convincingly intentional, and it doesn't necessarily scream out "future of cinema"—but if you're interested in tracking the progress of film's evolution, you'd do well to follow this discourse.