The press for Steven Soderbergh's Bubble describes it as a "unique cinematic experiment," which makes one wonder what's so experimental about this film. Granted, it will be part of a new line of movies scheduled for "day-and-date" releases, i.e., simultaneous release in theaters, on television, and on DVD, but that speaks more of factors external to the movie itself. It's shot in high-definition, but its overall look is modest, with nothing to show off. Perhaps its most daring move involves imploying only non-actors who are native to the film's setting of Southern Ohio. But even that idea isn't new, it's just rarely employed.

Still, it's that particular aspect which gives Bubble its sense of uniqueness. Soderbergh aims for realism so stark that you could never mistake it for highly-paid celebrities trying to go slumming in low-budget territories. The result? An act so delicate it could almost be described by the film's title. The movie relies mainly on three players -- Debbie Doebereiner, Dustin James Ashley, and Misty Dawn Wilkins -- to sell its story of ripples in an economically oppressed pond. As actors, they aren't revelatory but are convincing; they have the skills required to deliver these characters, which is all Soderbergh needs.

Bubble focuses on people who are so ingrained in their milieu that they've become numb to it. Doebereiner plays Martha, a middle-aged doll factory worker who has befriended her co-worker, young twentysomething Kyle, played by Ashley. They really have no basis for a friendship other than working together and living close enough to commute together. Their dialogue is simple and awkward. For Kyle, a regular pot smoker, the relationship is functional, practically there by default; Martha, on the other hand, invests more meaning into it, perhaps because she has nothing else to invest in.

Their world is insulated, routine, mundane, and, yet, strangely secure. Numbness has its allure in the comfort of predictability and the slow, gradual development of any event. The bubble is in danger of popping when young, attractive single mother Rose (Wilkins) arrives to work at the factory. Kyle takes an immediate interest in her, while Martha eyes her with wary suspicion. Rose represents a threat in many ways -- she's critical of her environment and seems at ease with taking advantage of others.

An idea running through the movie suggests that these downtrodden people are so used to their situation they'll subconsciously go to great lengths to keep it from being upended; also, Bubble indicates that, given their limited perspectives, the characters may see fit to prey on each other when the need arises. In other words, they're as much to blame for keeping themselves held back as are the more commonly blamed larger social and economic forces, whose represented presence remains absent in the story. This condemnation of lower class complacency and nearsightedness would seem largely unsympathetic were it not for the benefits reaped from the employment of these regional non-actors. They're able to convey a very real sense of stasis and express a non-expressiveness. The characters can't help being who they are, saddled with all the usual human weaknesses only deepened by the lack of stimulation in their environment.

Martha in particular draws looks of concern from the audience as Rose's company slowly unravels her. As outwardly depressing as her situation is -- saddled with a father who needs looking after, protective of a friendship with a man about half her age, and unquestioningly accepting of her job at the factory -- the only thing on her mind when Rose starts making waves is how to return to a stability she's familiar with. It's a contrast to more popular depictions of the poor working class, often shown struggling hard to escape their conditions. In this way, Bubble feels harsh but not false, thanks largely to its dedication to the creation of an authentic pitiable and insular world. 

(Released by Magnolia Pictures and rated "R" for some language.)

Review also appears on www.windowtothemovies.com.