If you’re going to dedicate your movie to August Strindberg, and your name is not Ingmar Bergman, you are likely writing a check that your screenplay cannot possibly cash.
But even though writer-director Neil LaBute commits this name-dropping hubris in his latest, “Some Velvet Morning,” you’re likely to find the film intriguing — so long as you’re willing to think of it as a whirl through Harold Pinter and David Mamet territory rather than as a 21st century “Miss Julie.”
Stanley Tucci and Alice Eve are the only performers in this real-time confrontation, and they’re both in prime fighting fettle.