The success of Paranormal Activity got me thinking of other wonderful micro-budget movies. There are many to choose from, and most have “making-of” stories that are as compelling as the films themselves. Perhaps not surprisingly, most are debut films of talented directors. Here are four I particularly like.

Return of the Secaucus Seven (1980, made for $60,000)

Twenty-eight-year-old John Sayles took the money he’d earned for writing Piranha, Alligator, and Battle Beyond the Stars, and put together his first movie. It’s about seven former college friends who reunite for a long weekend. When one of the couples breaks up, it sends ripples through the whole group. This wonderfully low-key movie began the “reunion movie” cycle, the most successful of which was The Big Chill in 1983. I like Secaucus better, thanks to its undiluted honesty. None of the friends are TV stars, suffering from illnesses or any other nonsense. They’re just complex people who have strong histories with each other. No other movie I’ve seen better captures the painful joy of reminiscence. The all-unknown cast sprouted two major actors—Gordon Clapp (NYPD Blue); and in his screen debut, a very raw David Strathairn.

Primer (2004, made for $7,000)

This is truly one of the more unique filmmaking efforts of recent years. Young engineer and mathematics major Shane Caruth came up with a novel approach to one of storytelling’s most dangerous wormholes: time travel. His film, made over a few weeks with cast doubling as crew, tells the story of two engineers who build a box that, accidentally, can send them back in time—not to ancient Rome or anything, but to about six hours earlier. They immediately use the machine to make money on the stock market. But very quickly the paradoxes stack up and the friendship deteriorates. Caruth took on one lead, and found a charismatic friend, David Sullivan, to play the other. What Caruth didn’t know about filmed storytelling—which was plenty—actually makes Primer all the more fascinating. The film is low on exposition and high on incomprehensible technical jargon. Many of the shots are static shots of guys working in a garage under florescent lights, making the whole thing strangely voyeuristic. A tough but rewarding watch.

Brick (2005, made for $475,000)

Like Shane Caruth above, Rian Johnson took on a cinematic conceit few should dare: he updated film noir to present-day high school. Many have attempted film noir, cramming their movies with canted angles and hard-boiled dialogue. Few have more than scratched the surface. Johnson did his homework. Instead of trying to recapture the old feel, he developed a whole new idiom in the spirit of Dashiell Hammett. Joseph Gordon-Levitt plays the enigmatic “detective,” searching for the truth behind his girlfriend’s shady death. Gordon-Levitt is amazing, and the young cast is full of energy. Johnson threads the parallels between Hammett’s world and the high school world with surprising ease, and he never plays them as gimmicks. Gordon-Levitt rat-a-tats a stream of dialogue so rich and smoky, the only limitation is the agonizingly poor audio quality. Johnson’s second film, this year’s The Brothers Bloom, proved that he’s got a true ear for language and a fun bag of tricks. But in spite of bigger stars and a much bigger budget, it couldn’t hold a match to Brick.

Once (2007, made for $150,000)

This little film made more than $20 million worldwide, thanks mostly to two very engaging leads and a lovely soundtrack of original tunes. One of those, the now ubiquitous “Falling Slowly” was last year’s stunning best original-song Oscar winner. A struggling musician (Glen Hansard) attempts to woo a Czech flower-seller and pianist (Marketa Irglova) into putting together an album with him. Writer-director John Carney asked former band-mate Hansard (of the Frames) to take the lead and write the music with Irglova. Without money for lighting and permits, Carney fashioned a very real, intimate, and powerfully romantic movie. There’s no doubt an added beauty is the fact that the performers didn’t consider themselves to be actors, and neither has any intention of acting again. Which makes the title Once all the more appropriate.

Alex Manugian lives in Sherman Oaks, Calif. He grew up in Groton and has reviewed movies for Harvard readers for many years.