I’m not sure which aspect of the new film Between the Temples is more pleasantly surprising: the career performances from a pair of offbeat stars or the breakout work by writer-director Nathan Silver. It’s also an opportunity to appreciate the five-decade career of one of those stars, Carol Kane, one of modern American cinema’s most distinctive actors.

Both she and co-star Jason Schwartzman have been known primarily for the quirkiness of their characters and their vibes, but here they each disappear into roles much more toned-down than we might expect. Schwartzman is Ben Gottlieb, the cantor for a synagogue in upstate New York. Ben’s wife died a year ago, in tragically mundane fashion, and he has yet to regain his mojo or his singing voice. Having moved back in with his moms (Dolly De Leon, who was so key in Triangle of Sadness, and onetime Woody Allen regular Caroline Aaron), Ben’s frustrations lead to a night consuming too many mudslides at the local watering hole. Which is where he runs into Carla (Kane), who turns out to (a) be his grade-school music teacher and (b) have decided she wants to finally have her bat mitzvah in her 70s, with Ben as her teacher.

Therein are planted the seeds to a relationship that flirts with Harold and Maude territory, the older woman’s zest for life inspiring the younger, depressed man’s reconnection to the world, but with a more ineffable, platonic bent. Carla’s son (Matthew Shear) is, perhaps understandably, distressed when he stops home to find Ben sleeping in his bed and wearing his pajamas. Meanwhile, Ben’s parents are concerned that he’s spending so much time with her instead of the more appropriately aged daughter (Madeleine Weinstein, charming in a thankless role) of the temple’s rabbi (Robert Smigel, of “Triumph the Insult Comic Dog” fame). But Schwartzman and Kane steal the movie, sharing an easy, deadpan rapport that feels fully authentic.

Making her big-screen debut in 1971’s Carnal Knowledge, Kane has specialized, thanks to her high, breathy voice and diminutive features, in comedic character work, one notable exception being her Oscar-nominated performance in 1975’s Hester Street. Playing the girlfriend, and later wife, of Andy Kaufman’s Latka on TV’s Taxi made her a mainstream presence, but she’s generally popped up in smaller roles in big movies or bigger roles in small movies—Cindy Sherman’s 1997 Office Killer is one notable, underseen example. In Between the Temples, it’s a joy to see her have a rare opportunity to portray a well-rounded, recognizably human character.

We can thank writer-director Nathan Silver for that. Between the Temples is his ninth feature, but his first in the last six years. Prior to that, he churned out a series of microbudget efforts, generally incorporating both Jewish life and focusing on female characters. Two of the best are Soft in the Head, an intense character study of a twentysomething hot mess (Sheila Etxeberria) nearing the end of her rope, and Stinking Heaven, a pitch-black comedy set in a sober living home in 1990s New Jersey. In Between the Temples, he ups his auteurist game, shooting in 16mm and letting his camera wander in a way that conjures the loose-limbed approach of the 1970s at least as well as Alexander Payne’s The Holdovers. It’s exciting to see a filmmaker who has labored in the low-budget trenches take advantage of an opportunity to step up a level, cinematically and emotionally. (Opens Friday, Aug. 23, at Cinema 21, Regal Bridgeport Village, and Salem Cinema.)

ALSO OPENING

Roger Corman Tribute: The man known as the King of the B’s, who passed away earlier this year at the ripe age of 98, in fact had a much richer cinematic legacy than his popular image as a penny-pinching exploitation producer would suggest. In addition to playing a vital role in putting the work of international filmmakers such as Ingmar Bergman and Akira Kurosawa in front of American eyes, he also jumpstarted the careers of Martin Scorsese, Francis Ford Coppola, and many others. And even apart from that, his own directorial output contains a few real, if minor, gems, some of which are included in the Hollywood Theatre’s 11-film tribute to the maestro. Corman’s triptych of Edgar Allan Poe adaptations peaked with 1964’s Masque of the Red Death, while his 1967 ode to LSD, The Trip, is a priceless time capsule—both will screen on 35mm. Other highlights of the week-long festival showcase the work of other directors for Corman, Peter Bogdanovich’s Targets and Scorsese’s Boxcar Bertha among them. It’s an indication of Corman’s influence on American filmmaking that this barely scratches the surface, but fortunately you can find The Man with X-Ray Eyes, The Wild Angels, and, if you must, Voyage to the Prehistoric Planet, (to name but a few) either streaming or on DVD. (Thursday 8/22 through Thursday 8/29, Hollywood Theatre.)

Good One: With the subtle touch and graceful efficiency of a great short story, writer-director India Donaldson’s debut feature is essentially a three-hander in which middle-aged divorcees Chris (James Le Gros) and Matt (Danny McCarthy), accompanied by Chris’s teenaged daughter Sam (Lily Collias) embark on a three-day camping trip in the Catskills. Matt’s son was supposed to come too, but he bails at the last minute. Chris and Sam are experienced backpackers—you get the sense this is an annual tradition for them—while the heftier, far less prepared Matt serves as a tolerated foil. The men banter and bicker in that masculine-frenemy fashion, while Sam quietly observes and lobs occasional, wry rejoinders to their bluster. Donaldson’s camera is content to observe, too, leaving the naturalistic dialogue and three perfectly-pitched performances to capture the delicate dynamic on display. Collias, in particular, is astonishingly real in her second feature. Not much of import happens, at least until a stray comment on the last night triggers a dawning realization on Sam’s part that can’t be put into few words, but marks one of (presumably) many small steps in her increasingly adult perspective towards her dad. (Opens Friday 8/23 at Living Room Theaters and Regal Fox Tower)

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Blink Twice: Who would you choose: the studly, billionaire techbro, or the bear? Unfortunately for struggling waitress and aspiring nail artist Frida (Naomie Ackie) and her friend Jess (Alia Shawkat), they’re overwhelmed by the charm that Slater King (Channing Tatum) oozes when they meet at a fundraising gala. (They also ignore the fact that his name is Slater King, fer God’s sake!) Despite these red flags, they agree to accompany Slater to his private island for a weekend of luxurious debauchery.

It seems like a dream come true: pool drinks and massive blunts shared nonstop between Frida, Jess, and the other hot women (including Hit Man’s Adria Arjona) and rich dudes (including Christian Slater, Haley Joel Osment, and Kyle MacLachlan) who’ve been invited to the bacchanal. The only thing this festival of corporate hedonism seems to be missing is a lighter, since everyone always has to borrow Jess’s. (*cough Chekhov’s lighter cough*) Pay no attention to the occasional venomous snake that has to be wrangled away, or the enigmatic maid (Maria Elena Oliveras) lurking on the periphery. It’s only when unexplained bruises and unremembered evenings begin to add up that Frida starts to get suspicious.

It might take her protagonist a while to catch on, but director Zoë Kravitz never lets things get boring, bringing to mind the old Hitchcock saw about the difference between surprise and suspense. (In this case, it’s Slater King and his posse who are the ticking bombs under the table.) Kravitz, making her directing debut, consistently makes creative and effective choices that prevent the predictable, eventually quite dark, narrative arc of the film from growing stale.

There’s an odd unspoken question at the heart of Blink Twice: Why does a studly, intelligent billionaire who seems eminently capable of seducing anyone he desires need to resort to complicated subterfuge to get what he wants? If Jeffrey Epstein looked like Channing Tatum, would he still have committed his heinous crimes? The answer, of course, is that what men like Slater King want has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with power, misogyny, and sadism. It’s fun to watch Tatum pull off this charming heel turn, but it’s also bracing to realize that, apart from a few Grand Guignol details, this movie’s not that removed from reality. (Opens Friday 8/23 at Cinema 21, Regal Fox Tower, and other locations)

Crumb Catcher: Writer-director Chris Skotchdopole’s first feature is an odd hybrid of home invasion thriller and cringe comedy. The morning after their wedding, Shane (Rigo Gray) and Leah (Ella Rae Peck) head to the isolated vacation home owned by Leah’s boss at her publishing job for their honeymoon. That night, a waiter, John (John Speredakos) from the hotel where they were wed arrives on their doorstep, ostensibly to deliver the cake topper he neglected to give them earlier. Turns out he’s accompanied by his abrasive wife Rose (Lorraine Farris), who may or may not have had a drunken dalliance with Shane the night before.

John, who reminded me of Gregg Turkington’s grating lounge singer character Neil Hamburger, has an ulterior motive—namely, he insists on demonstrating an invention he believes will revolutionize the fine dining industry. (For a hint, see the title.) From there, things get increasingly, violently baroque in a way that never quite meshes with what’s come before. It doesn’t help that neither Gray nor Peck muster much energy as the straight men to these bizarre foils. More interesting in the concept than the execution, it’s still a nice showcase for Speredakos’ committed craziness. (Available for rental or purchase via Amazon Prime and Apple TV.)