Twin Falls Idaho is a wildly original and emotionally potent slice of weirdness that recalls the films of David Lynch, both visually and tonally, while exploring thematic territory previously undocumented on film. An eerily unconventional sight to behold, especially with the sophisticated makeup effects and cloaking of the actors' extra body parts, Mark and Michael Polish's conjoined twins inspire endless philosophical quandaries about the nature of wholeness and identity. What is smart about their screenplay is that it does not serve these up on a platter. In fact, many of the film's wrenching plot details, like the fact that Michele Hicks' prostitute lives with the guilt of having given up a retarded child for adoption, are only hinted at in the script, with supreme respect for minimalism and the viewer's capacity for appreciating nuance. Newcomer Hicks is a revelation as the viewer's surrogate, who restrains a flood of curious questions in deference to an awkward politeness. Visually, she strikes as much of an impression as the freakish twins, with her gothic mascara and hauntingly gaunt figure. After opening up a wellspring of previously unconsidered questions about the logistics of the twins' social life, sleeping patterns, and biological commingling, the Polish brothers address them in a satisfying succession throughout the gradual narrative, often through the tactless prying of secondary characters. Identical twins in the viewing audience may find Twin Falls Idaho especially fertile, since these issues work as a fascinating extension of their unique sibling bond, with which the directors are quite familiar.