Tyne Daly and Elisabeth Henry in A Bread Factory (In the Family LLC)

 This daring and thought-provoking comedy-drama centers on something decidedly unsexy yet vital: the act of community building. In a small New York town called Checkford, the film’s two main characters run a theatre called the Bread Factory, where artists from all over perform and classics are revived. Early on, we get an extended look at the inner workings of the space as a documentarian, Jordan (Janeane Garofolo), screens her latest feature and teaches a class for aspiring kid filmmakers. Meanwhile, the two theatre owners, Dorothea (Tyne Daly) and Greta (Elisabeth Henry), are preparing to mount a new stage production of Euripides’ Hecuba.

The crowds for the Bread Factory’s offerings have already been becoming sparser, but then comes a further threat in the form of May Ray, a world-renowned performance artist duo from China. They open an enormous facility not too far from the theatre, where its two principals, May (Janet Hsieh) and Ray (George Young), put on shows that are decidedly flashier than their rival’s, but they lack substance. While May Ray spares no expense in making a good first impression on the town by handing out branded freebees, their more insidious side emerges when they make a play for the municipal arts budget, which the Bread Factory needs in order to survive.

To try and prevent May Ray from succeeding, Dorothea and Greta must convince a majority of local officials to vote against a special bill during an upcoming town meeting. But to their surprise, this proves to be an uphill battle, as decades spent being in business means many in the community bear petty grievances against them. And certain officials take what the Bread Factory offers—a space where the public has access to culture that is completely unfettered from corporate interests—entirely for granted. Yet the theatre does have some allies, including the local newspaper editor (Glynnis O’Connor), who suspects May Ray may have bribed certain parties to secure a large grant for their building.

The film has a folksy charm, especially during the first of its two full-length sections. Much of that has to do with the characters, almost all older women embodying important ideals, such as hard work, the pursuit of truth, and, of course, bridge building. Indeed, Dorothea and Greta always try to forge connections with their neighbors, even those they may have had disagreements with. Meanwhile, with regards to the pursuit of truth, one of the most inspiring scenes is a confrontation between the aforementioned newspaperwoman, Jan, and a student intern, Max (Zachary Sayle), who has trouble distinguishing press releases from news articles. More maternal than scolding, Jan reminds him of two important tenets of journalism: always question what it is you don’t know and remember, words must mean something.

Along with taking place in two halves, A Bread Factory has two very different tones, with the first half being low-key and steeped in realism. Director Patrick Wang utilizes long takes in order to capture the occasional monotony of behind-the-scenes theatre work: half-engaged actors go through the motions of practicing their lines as Dorothea, the director of Hecuba, tries all kinds of ways to elicit the performance she is looking for. But the lengthy, single takes also capture the unpredictability and electricity of live theater. At one point, there is a poetry reading at the theatre, and Wang keeps his camera trained on a particular author for the entire time he is on stage. It’s a veritable mine field of a viewing experience as he fumbles and appears nervous before gradually hitting his stride.

If the first half of the film focuses on the potential of art to move an audience, the second seems to be about how art is not exclusively the domain of the Bread Factory, May Ray, or any singular entity. Events of a stylized and increasingly surreal nature occur, namely the arrival of a bus full of tourists who break into a choreographed musical number influenced by The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, and they subsequently move to Checkford, causing song and dance–related disruptions wherever they go. In effect, the film splits into multiple story lines that meander for a time, challenging viewers to look beyond the initial David versus Goliath story. Wang’s argument seems to be that in the end, even Goliath is sort of a David; there are no individual, decisive battles that determine how a larger conflict gets resolved; and change is inevitable.

Not all viewers will enjoy how radically the ground beneath their feet shifts, especially since many of the narrative expectations set up during the initial half go unresolved or reach an anti-climactic conclusion. But what keep the entire enterprise from dissolving into utter incomprehensiveness are its sharply drawn, fully realized main protagonists, played by Daly and a scene-stealing Henry. Dorothea and Greta’s warm and devoted relationship is both a haven for themselves as well as a rock for the viewer to hold onto. They remain steady even as unpredictable and tragic events unfold everywhere. A Bread Factory is roughly four hours in length, but with these two characters, it could have been 400, and I would have happily watched the entire thing.