Sometimes cheering on a homegrown movie project means adopting a whole separate set of aesthetic standards wherein any finished product that doesn't totally suck merits applause. And there's nothing wrong with that kind of love and support--as with any creative endeavor, the same filmmaker who drops a wizened turd on his or her first go-round may someday lay a golden egg. Still, there's something refreshing and inspiring about Baltimore films that get things right the first time around. Matthew Porterfield's Hamilton, a quietly artful look at a young couple struggling with life, parenthood, family, and each other in the titular neighborhood, is one such movie. Intuitive and highly visual, Hamilton aims for kinship with such art-house fare as Claire Denis' Beau Travail and Gus Van Sant's recent output--and it remarkably hits its mark. The ecstatic reviews that greeted Hamilton during a recent run at New York's Anthology Film Archives, therefore, came as no surprise, and just confirm what Baltimore already knew: Porterfield is a gifted director who we very much need to hear from again.