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Street-corner visionaries who spew anti-government rhetoric are often uninspiring—whether they endorse anarchy or Armageddon, they depend on the same power grid and public transportation system as high school principals and neighborhood association presidents. But the paranoid/resourceful pioneers in Off the Grid: Life on the Mesa scratch out an existence on the Mesa, 15 desolate square miles of electricity-free New Mexico desert, and they offer a more compelling, crazier version of what unbridled freedom really means. When they’re not too busy torching abandoned cars or shooting AK-47s, this motley crew of marijuana farmers, burned-out hippies, and war veterans chase a Puritan ideal of claiming the American wilderness as the last place on earth where you can do whatever the fuck you want. To their credit, brother-and-sister directors Jeremy and Randy Stulberg don’t dwell on the seamier sides of this proposition, which include the failure to pay child support, PTSD, and alcoholism. Instead, their film looks for the good reasons a human being might decide to live as far away from other human beings as possible. It’s hard to be cynical about Stan, the Mesa’s wizened pig farmer who, when not feeding his animals, waters his animals, sheds tears over his long-dead animals, and puts up teenage runaways. The man’s worldview might be unreconstructed (and the anarchist group Black Bloc has better fashion sense), but it’s not pathological—he’s technically homeless but not without a home. Shot against a breathtaking Southwestern backdrop, Off the Grid makes a compelling case for a Disunited State of Nature.