Based, it’s said, on some kind of true story, Louisiana native boy Zack Godshall’s languid, toxically goofy little indie self-consciously focuses on the spiritual quest of a homeless, obese black man (the shruggingly unemotional Paul Batiste, in a single gray sweatshirt), who wonders about life’s meanings but prefers utter indolence—crashing in his ex-wife’s attic, smoking pot all day, improbably bedding an array of women, and dumbly observing an array of white-trash eccentrics, apocalyptic obsessives, and fringe innocents (mostly, we presume, Godshall’s friends). To say it may be the year’s ultimate stoner movie, in front of the camera and behind, is to nearly say it all. Vacillating between free-associative shtick and... More >>>