Good films always raise compelling questions, whether the format is fiction or documentary fact.

It's the kind of movie you'll want to see a second time with someone who hasn't seen it yet, to remember what it was like to watch it for the first time.

Exactly the movie you think it is, but not the movie you want it to be.

It's simply great fun, a winsome film and an occasionally over-the-top luxury fantasy that never flags.

MEA CULPA is a suitably abstract exercise by the late underground master Bruce Conner, but lacks the vitality and originality of his seminal '60s works. I was an early fan of his, watching the films circa 1968/69 at our weekly "Underground" 16mm film screenings in Cleveland, shown locally at midnight on Fridays and Saturdays at the Heights, Continental and Westwood Art Theatres.The star of this show turns out to be synthesizer specialist Patrick Gleeson, whose work as a sideman on various jazz LPs by Joe Henderson in the '70s first attracted my attention. Here his eerie sounds dominate Conner's visuals.Using a sepia monochrome tint, Conner has shots of mountains, a canal, a rabbit awakening, cloud formations, floral arrangements and other random objects to create the mood. Much of his imagery is merely cryptic, such as a girl "number 12" and the familiar extreme slo-mo shot of a milk droplet "exploding" in closeup.Of course, in the '60s it was the borderline between underground/ experimental (Conner, Warhol, Emshwiller) and soft porn (McDowell, the Kuchars, the Findlays) that made us "go underground and see the light", to quote the advertising tag line of the time. Conner's effective '60s nudes were titillating, and his later work lacks their provocative presence, because pornography had surfaced in the '70s, making what was once underground passe.