Amateur (1994)

Amateur is special because it takes a pulpy premise—an amnesiac bleeding in an alley—and turns it into a sly, strangely moving meditation on identity and mercy, told with Hal Hartley’s crisp, deadpan rhythm. Isabelle Huppert is mesmerizing as the ex-nun-turned-erotica-writer, playing sincerity and mischief in the same breath, while Martin Donovan and Elina Löwensohn match her with performances that feel both stylized and quietly human. The vibe is downtown-noir meets art-house screwball: funny in its odd angles, thoughtful in its pauses, and hypnotic in the way it lets absurdity brush up against real moral consequence. It’s not for everyone—there’s strong violence, including an extended torture scene—but if you can handle the darkness, you’ll find a singular crime-comedy-drama that’s smarter, stranger, and more emotionally resonant than it has any right to be.

Amateur wants to be a deadpan, off-kilter crime fable about identity and redemption, filtered through Hal Hartley’s deliberately artificial, talky style. When it clicks, you get sharp, oddball performances (especially Huppert) and a few genuinely funny, morally prickly moments that feel like indie noir with a smirk. But the plotting can feel arbitrary and emotionally distant, with uneven pacing and subplots that drift in and out without much payoff, and the downbeat finish may leave you feeling like you sat through a lot of setup for a shrug. Also, despite the wry tone, the violence isn’t cute—there’s extended torture—so if you’re expecting a light crime comedy or a tightly wound thriller, this is likely not your night.