Blake and Francis Falls (Mark and Michael Polish, pronounced like the nationality) live in a fleabag hotel on Idaho Avenue in a small, unnamed city. As a birthday present for his twin, Blake arranges for a prostitute to visit his brother, Francis. When Penny (Michele Hicks) -- sullen and solitary, her darkly madeup eyes only emphasizing her remoteness -- turns up, Francis is shy, peeking out from behind the bathroom door. When he finally ventures out, we learn the reason for his reticence: Blake and Francis are not merely brothers, not merely identical twins. They are conjoined at their sides, two young men tottering around on three legs and a cane. They blink patiently at Penny, but behind their serenity they are daring her to accept them.

Written by both Polish brothers -- who are identical but not conjoined twins -- and directed by Michael, Twin Falls Idaho benefits greatly from its provenance. Identical twins share an intimacy that "singles" cannot guess at -- the Polish brothers, as children, spoke their own private language, like many twins -- and that intimacy is taken a step further in Blake and Francis. The brothers' performances as the Fallses are remarkable and unaffectedly sweet. Francis, the weaker of the two, leans his forehead against Blake's as much for rest as in a desire to retreat from the outside world. Blake tends solicitously to Francis during his frequent illnesses. The brothers communicate with each other in inaudible whispers, as if one mind were divided between two brains and this is how its thoughts travel. They share a quirky, self-deprecating sense of humor.

And yet, Blake and Francis are without question individuals. Blake plays the guitar and sings; Francis likes to draw. Francis complains that Blake falls in love too easily, as he does with Penny -- who overcomes her initial shock to befriend the brothers, though Francis is continually leery of her. Blake accuses Francis of merely being jealous.

If the Fallses sound like any other pair of close brothers, that's the Polish brothers' point. Blake and Francis are heartbreakingly normal, innocent even, despite spending their childhood years in orphanages and adult years in a sideshow, despite being the recipients of gawks and stares and unimaginably rude questions wherever they go (as Blake confides to Penny, "Most people just wanna know if we share the same dick"). When Penny asks Blake what it's like to always be with someone else, he tells her it's all he's ever known. Just as our own lives, odd as they may be, are all we have, and our own intimacies are subject to jealousy while also serving as a source of strength.

Like the little boy at Shea Stadium, Blake and Francis have a moment when their internal normalcy coincides with the rest of the world: Halloween. They attend a costume party with Penny, where they dance and drink beer, sheltered briefly in the anonymity of their "costume." It's a wonderfully moving scene, allowing us a glimpse of these gentle, unassuming brothers in another, more tolerant world.

Though Twin Falls Idaho falters just a tad near the end into a bit of melodrama, for the most part it is free of emotional manipulation, asking us merely to accept Blake and Francis as they are and recognize how they are mostly just like everyone else. Beautifully shot, beautifully scripted, beautifully performed, this is the debut of triple-whammy film talent -- writing, directing, and acting -- in Michael and Mark Polish.