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Well-acted and exciting, David Gordon Green’s emo genre exercise in rural junkyard shitscaping is defeated by directorial posturing that’s so sincere it borders on whimpering. The film proceeds Night of the Hunter–ishly through the lives of a Southern quartet: big brother Chris (Jamie Bell), little brother Tim (Devon Alan), their father (Dermot Mulroney), and their uncle (Josh Lucas). Every detail is so perfect that what was meant to be messy comes off tidy. From the mud on cars and T-shirts to the use of negative and freeze frame, it’s all dipped in a goo that mixes the precious with the viscous. When puky Timmy drones about chiggers, it’s impossible to tell whether his narration is supposed to be poignant, funny, informative, Malick-like, or what. It’s hard to work up much sympathy for this orally fixated 10-year old who eats paint and rust, or for an orally fixated movie that lingers over his finger licking so lusciously. Green, the talented director of George Washington and All the Real Girls, fills in corners with touches out of the McSweeney's playbook. As the two boys flee their murderous uncle, Timmy wonders whether they should head to "Iceland or Nebraska." Like Timmy and Dorothy Parker, I fwowed up. (108 minutes)