The Brothers Bloom

Directed by Rian Johnson

Starring Adrien Brody, Mark Ruffelo, Rachel Weisz, Rinko Kikuchi, Maximilian Schell and Robbie Coltrane

Director Rian Johnson's The Brothers Bloom is the sort of elaborate game that young, ambitious filmmakers love to play with jaded audiences: Can I make you snicker at irony one minute, then sell you sincerity the next? It's a tough balancing act, but Johnson's tale of globe-trotting grifters deftly juggles art-house archness and earnest notions about the loyalty of blood relations. You know you're being taken for a ride, but you can't help admiring how well Johnson and his cast pull off the trick.

Ever since they were kids, the Bloom brothers - Stephen (Mark Ruffalo) and the younger one they simply call Bloom (Adrien Brody) - have excelled in the art of the swindle. With the help of a Japanese explosives expert named Bang Bang (Babel's Rinko Kikuchi), they bilk rubes from Boise to Berlin until Bloom decides he wants out. Knowing his partner has an incurable romantic streak, Stephen chooses a kooky, comely female millionaire (Rachel Weisz) as their next target. Soon, the little brother and the intended victim have fallen hard for each other, unsavory characters start popping out of the woodwork and no one is sure who's playing whom for a sap.

Like Brick, Johnson's 2005 debut that transferred private-eye pulp to a high school setting, there's a showoff-y quality to The Brothers Bloom that falls somewhere between clever and self-conscious. The movie's dense set design, quirky supporting characters and soundtrack of deep album cuts will remind you of another director (hint: rhymes with Schmes Schmanderson), though unlike that auteur, Johnson is never overly precious and he knows how to ground the meta-movie touches. At the core of this loopy caper flick is a story about two brothers who know they've finally got to cut their codependent ties. The fact that the movie never loses sight of the emotional stakes is what makes The Brothers Bloom more than just a wink-wink romp and confirms that Johnson is a director worth keeping an eye on.

Sibling rivalries also fuel Rachel Getting Married, an ensemble drama from Jonathan Demme (The Silence of the Lambs) that turns a wedding into a grudge match. Recovering addict Kym (Anne Hathaway) gets a three-day pass from rehab to attend her sister's nuptials; she and the bride-to-be, Racjel (Mad Men's Rosemarie DeWitt), immediately start tearing into each other. Not even a script peppered with wonky monologues can dampen Demme's funky, freeform handling of the material. His legendary gift for left-field musical touches - the film features everything from gypsy folk to an a cappella turn by TV on the Radio's Tunde Adebimpe - only adds to the giddy, oddball pleasure factor. It's easily Demme's best work in a decade.