Living in an ancient redwood tree for more than two years to prevent the tree from being clear-cut, Julia Butterfly Hill captured our hearts and minds by showing us that one person can make a difference. Through interviews with Hill, filmmaker Doug Wolens paints a portrait of an intensely spiritual and articulate woman who encountered both beauty and horror (she was assaulted by lumber company helicopters at one point) during her time above ground.

Gehr uses a mini-digital recorder to look back on the Machine Age in the form of San Francisco's soon-to-be-shuttered Musee Mecanique. For slightly more than an hour, Cotton Candy documents this venerable collection of coin-operated mechanical toys—including an entire circus—mainly in close-up, isolating particular details as he alternates between ambient and post-dubbed (or no) sound. By treating the Musee's cast of synchronized figures as puppets, the artist is making a show—but is it his or theirs? Gehr's selective take on the arcade renders it all the more spooky. There's a sense in which Cotton Candy is a gloss on the moment in The Rules of the Game when the music-box-collecting viscount unveils his latest and most elaborate acquisition. (It also brings to mind the climax of A.I.: The DV of the future tenderly regards the more human machine of the past.) (J. Hoberman, The Village Voice)

A young woman, seemingly good but still psychologically disturbed from being kidnapped as a little girl, becomes the obvious suspect in a murder.