Young Love, the Unrequited Type It is not uncommon for young men of a certain age to keep notebooks to record drawings, doodles and roundabout confessions about romantic missed connections. These pages are havens for introspection, sighs, elegy and wit, all of which should really be taken into account in understanding the lovelorn individual. "An Oversimplification of Her Beauty," a most lovely and meticulously handmade hodgepodge of art and feeling, resembles a cinematic version of such a notebook, tracing and retracing the filmmaker's failure to get together with a friend. Terence Nance is the filmmaker, directing his feature-length debut, and Namik Minter is his would-be love, supportive friend (tragically) and muse. And their film - for it's hard to separate subject from object - is a dense, organic, dazzling and funny tapestry, making use of varied and subtly colored animation and stop-motion; candid video; playfully verbose direct address; chapters and footnotes and doodles; and suavely chosen music and sonic bridges. Like any ruminative lover, Mr. Nance, playing a version of himself, goes over and over his past relationships and, with sly humor and charm, crystallizes moments of confusion and understanding with regard to Ms. Minter. How would you feel? Mr. Nance keeps asking, drawing out the phrase in a way that both captures the inside-his-head question of a meditative subway ride and directs it outward as if testifying to (and testing the patience of) a friend. The occasion for his romantic obsession, which somehow doesn't feel neurotic, is a pretty clear-cut case of two inward people playing emotional hide-and-seek out of habit. Mr. Nance turns his thought into a performance of vulnerability that's all too relatable in its indulgences. It has heart without becoming cloying. Mr. Nance and Ms. Minter make a handsome pair, effortlessly carrying off resplendent Afros and casual ensembles. There's a natural, smile-raising pleasure at watching the rapport between two close friends, which is particularly electric in one series of grainy, seated dialogues to the camera featuring the pair sharing a retro fuzzy stick mike. And New York glows in its customary role as roaming ground for soulful loners, beginning with the quintessential urban poetry of the opening subway ride, shot through the front window of a train. But something like "An Oversimplification of Her Beauty" isn't dreamed up; it's made and sustained. Mr. Nance moves us through his diverse visuals, fashioned over an extended period of collaboration, with an intuitive elegance and style. His patchwork scheme (incorporating an original short film titled "How Would U Feel?") recalls hybrid creations in American avant-garde cinema (imitating watercolor, line drawing, collage), as well as the dreamily puddling creations of 1970s animation, with their spontaneous sense of cosmology. Mr. Nance's voice-overs, self-mirroring yet universal like the questioning of Shakespearean monologues, puts the lie to any cinematic notion of younger, inarticulate generations hobbled by indecision and texting plans. His film is a definitive mixtape that memorializes, and not so sneakily celebrates, the sweet angst of a certain kind of romantic limbo. An Oversimplification of Her Beauty Written, directed and edited by Terence Nance; directors of photography, Matthew E. Bray and Shawn Peters; music, art direction and animation direction by Mr. Nance; produced by James Bartlett, Andrew D. Corkin and Mr. Nance; released by Variance Films. At the Cinema Village, 22 East 12th Street, Greenwich Village. Running time: 1 hour 24 minutes. WITH: Terence Nance (Actor) and Namik Minter (Actress); Reg E. Cathey, Mr. Nance, Ruby Amanze and Ms. Minter (Narrators).