consider the The Machinist (2004) something of a flawed, minor masterpiece: a smart, creepy screenplay, phenomenal art direction and, least of not, killer performance by Christian Bale. this is a tantalizing, mentally-ill melange of dread, memory and flawed human perception, all echoed through the emaciated soul of its title character (yes, Bale shed 63 pounds for the role, said to have been achieved from a diet consisting of a single can of tuna + one apple each day for 3 months). director Brad Anderson can deservedly gloat. evidence that such a prize is not easily had is his earlier Session 9 (2001), an ambitious project of equal promise (at least for the first 30 minutes) that soon spirals into a complete, incomprehensible mess, straight to home-video hell.