Photo Courtesy Sundance Film Festival

While often studied, particularly in independent film, the sexual plight and confusion of an adolescent female is little understood, even when the circumstances of deviance are glaringly apparent. In its twisted study of patriotism, racism and sexual awakening, Alan Ball's Towelhead approaches this understanding with a focus and an innocence that breaths life into its black humor, making for a feature adaptation at turns disturbing and sensitizing.

Based on Alicia Erian's novel, Towelhead opens on doe-eyed Jasira (Summer Bishil). She stands in a shower, wearing only her bathing suit as her mother's boyfriend readies a razor to shave the girl's pubic hair. When mother Gail (Maria Bello) discovers the quietly sexual encounter, she ships Jasira off to live with her stern and insensitive Lebanese-Christian father Rifat (Peter Macdissi), reminding her 13-year-old daughter just before she gets on the plane that "this is all your fault." It's an early nod of humor, the likes of which will blend morally unsettling dramatic moments together.

Shuttled to Gulf War-era Texas, Jasira hits the wall of overt racism, the nicknames 'towelhand' and 'sand nigger' thrown easily her naive way. Negotiating her lack of self-worth, the neglect of a father who lavishes all his time on his lily white sex pot girlfriend Thena (Lynn Collins) and the marked attentions of a married, lascivious Army reservist Mr. Vuoso (Aaron Eckhart), Jasira falls progressively into a spiral of descent. Much like Lucrecia Martel's protagonist Amalia of The Holy Girl, Jasira feeds an obsession with sex that protects her from harsh emotional realities. Where Amalia's sexual encounters develop into a spiritual ecstasy, however, Jasira's only climax in orgasm. Intimate scenes of erotic and tender violation pit Jasira's desire for connection against the lust of Mr. Vuoso and the love of boyfriend Thomas Bradley (Eugene Jones).

Where the film does take dark turns, its moral redemption lies in the support of neighbors and expectant parents Melina (Toni Collette) and Gil (Matt Letscher), both who shelter Jesira with affection and consideration. While Jasira's voice strengthens throughout the film, it's in the safety of these neighbors that she claims her own opinions not out of anger but out of pure thought.

Complementing Ball's writing--which at times does fall into the explicit, pointing out themes all too neatly-- the cast supports each line of dialogue with an energy and offhandedness that undercuts any stylism. Bishil is a revelation of interiority, her quiet command of compromised innocence never falling into the jaded. Her open expressions make her Jasira both elusive and endearing. As egocentric parents, Macdissi and Bello both play with acutely drawn turns of feeling--their biting comments always funny, their moments of loneliness all that much more moving. While Eckhart and Collette put in their typically well crafted performances, neither of which necessarily expand their range as actors, minor roles played by Letscher, Jones and Collins carry the weight of counterpoint that gives the social and moral commentary a defined context.

It's rare to see a film that triumphs on as many levels as Towelhead does. While the issues of race relation and female sexuality are obviously at the forefront in the film, each topic handled with a deft hand by Ball, the third thematic ingredient, captured in imagery of the American flag and inserted clips of war footage, continually seats the characters in Americana. The questions of, 'Who is American? What does it mean to be American?' are at all times just under the surface of the story, and as Mr. Vuoso pulls himself closer to Jasira, there's a sense that his attraction mirrors an arrogant imperialism. She is the victim who rises up diffidently, he the addict to his compulsions. While there is the conquest on his part, there is also the expected downfall, much as the country itself experienced at that time.

Jasira, however, is not wholly a victim. The complexity of her sexual awakening, while it may in critical circles be reduced to the manners in which she is taken advantage by Mr. Vuoso, is such that she also derives pleasure from it. When confronted by Thomas toward the end of the film about her relationship with Mr. Vuoso, Jasira, atypical of a victim, doesn't pull back from him. In fact, she does, with great maturity, the exact opposite. Her spirit is both of the Catholic dichotomy saint and whore, and to neglect the former is to reduce Ball's creation to the arena of exploitation.

A full exploration of its themes, Towelhead glimpses with a clear eye at issues that most films fear tackling. While not structurally daring, the thought-provoking story makes a mesmerizing film, a vision of ideas so often pushed aside.