There are a lot of movies that I miss during their theatrical runs.  Some of them I miss simply because I don't get "the draw" for editorial assignments.  That is, I end up seeing a lot of movies I don't like (and certainly wouldn't pay to see) because I have to write reviews for them; and because I'm seeing those movies, I don't have time to see others.  I can only allot so many hours to watching movies each week.  And I spend more hours editing reviews than I do writing them and watching movies combined.

Sometimes, though, one comes along that I simply don't hear about until it's already pretty much come and gone.  Bella was one of those.

This small film was released using a "grass-roots" marketing campaign, and for whatever reason the publicist in the Seattle market didn't see fit to bring it to my attention.  I heard good things about it from many of my colleagues, but the opportunity to see it just didn't surface.

I was therefore pleased when the chance to review it for its DVD release surfaced.

I was even more pleased after watching it.

This is no big-budget studio personality drama.  It's a quiet, thoughtful examination of a very human and compassionate relationship between a chef with a troubled past and a waitress with a troubled present.  Because of circumstances beyond either one's control, they are thrown together for a very pivotal and life-changing day.  Jose begins a process of healing, and Nina learns some very important things about life... and unwanted pregnancy.

So why is a film this simple and easy to describe so enjoyable?

First, the performances are first-rate.  Eduardo Verastegui brings a quiet, earnest intensity to the role of Jose -- which is quite an accomplishment, given that Jose is the rare film character that hides behind a full, full beard.  Tammy Blanchard is equally engaging as Nina; you believe her distress, and you believe her vulnerability.  It's also a testament to the performances that we find Jose's and Nina's equally tough and improbable choices wholly believable within the context of the film.  (Numerous supporting performances are also memorable.)

Second, the film provides a look inside a culture rarely presented on film: a vibrant, extended Latino family of mixed Mexican and Cuban descent.  The film studiously avoids the usual Latino stereotypes without sidestepping universal human foibles.  Along the way, it opts for cautious optimism about the human condition while giving a nod to the legitimate causes of quite natural cynicism.

Most importantly, though, the film takes the time it needs to earn the right to be heard -- much like the time that Jose takes to earn Nina's ear.  It would be easy for the subject of the film to turn into a preaching opportunity or political lecture; and while certain viewers may still read it that way, I think that's merely because so many people have well-founded visceral emotional responses to pregnancy, abortion, single parenthood, and adoption.  Those issues have touched nearly all of our lives in very personal ways.

But, dare I say it, there's a certain Christ-like quality to Verastegui's Jose that can't help triumphing over the potential darkness.  I've rarely seen a film that so strongly conveys what it must feel like to be God: knowing what it's like to be broken and abandoned, and because of that fully human connection, having the utmost patience and compassion on brokenness wherever it may be found, and seeing every child -- of whatever age -- as His own.