Tag Archives: Edmund Donovan

Mommy Can You Hear Me?

Echo Valley

by George Wolf

The barn roof at the Echo Valley horse ranch is bad. Like $9,000 bad. And when Kate (Julianne Moore) makes the trip to her ex-husband Richard’s (Kyle MacLachlan) office for some financial help, we get some nicely organic character development.

In those few important minutes, director Michael Pearce and writer Brad Ingelsby let us know Kate and Richard’s daughter Claire may have some serious issues, and that Kate may be enabling her.

From there, we can guess that Claire (Sydney Sweeney) will be showing up soon.

She does, and says she’s clean. She just needs for Mom to buy her another new phone while she breaks away from her boyfriend Ryan (Edmund Donovan). But of course Ryan shows up, followed by their dealer Jackie (Domhnall Gleeson – a nicely subtle brand of menacing), and it isn’t long before a frantic Claire comes home wearing someone else’s blood.

The somewhat pulpy, kinda noir-ish pieces aren’t exactly new, but Pearce (Beast) and the terrific ensemble always find frayed edges that keep you invested. We’re set up to pull for the put-upon Kate, then continually given reasons to doubt that very support.

Does Kate’s aversion to tough love make her an easy mark? Maybe, but maybe Kate’s smarter than anyone expects. Especially Jackie.

Pearce keeps the pace sufficiently taut and supplies some hypnotic shots of a countryside that comes to play an important part in the mystery – as does modern tech. Instead of copping out with a 90s timestamp, Echo Valley leans into the texts and tracking. True, the resolve might not be water tight digitally, but the timeliness gives the tension some relatable urgency.

It’s also refreshing to find a streaming release that doesn’t continually cater to lapsed attention spans. From that opening meeting in Richard’s office, Echo Valley assumes you’re settled in for the ride, all the way through a rewarding deconstruction of events and a final shot that cements what the film was getting at all along.

Monster Match

Your Monster

by Hope Madden

Often, the most useful way to revisit the worst moments in a life is through horror or comedy. Genre lets us distance ourselves from the truth of a situation—that people are often selfish and even evil, and that the world can be bone crushingly lonely and cruel—with laughter or screams while still acknowledging that reality. Surviving it, even.

Writer/director Caroline Lindy navigates a blend of genres—comedy, drama, musical, romance, horror—with a clever “beauty and the beast” tale that acknowledges that each of us can be our own beauty and our own beast. Life may work best that way for everyone. Except Jacob. But Jacob’s a dick.

Lindy expertly montages us through the backstory. Laura (Melissa Barrera, Abigail) and Jacob (Edmund Donovan) are a cute couple working together on a musical. Laura will be the lead and she’s overcome with joy. Then there’s a cancer diagnosis, then a hospital room breakup that ends with Laura sobbing after a fleeing Jacob as she grips the IV stand she’s dragged to the hospital hallway.

Without Jacob’s apartment to return to, bestie Mazie (Kayla Foster) drops Laura at the house she grew up in, where she will cry her way through many boxes of tissues as she eats her way through many boxes of snacks, all alone—except for the monster (Tommy Dewey, Saturday Night’s Michael O’Donoghue) who used to be under her bed and who’s grown used to having the place to himself.

From here, Lindy does an exceptional job of disguising a brilliant journey of self-discovery as a New York romcom about a budding actress denied her Broadway debut by her gaslighting ex.

Barrera’s never been better and Dewey strikes the perfect balance between ferocious beast and supportive buddy.

The metaphor is perfect. So much so that a lot of viewers may see right past it and believe this is, indeed, the story of a woman who falls in love with a ferociously loyal monster. And that’s fine. If you want a musical theater romance, Your Monster delivers.

But it’s Lindy’s crafty subversion of all those tropes, and her game cast’s spot-on characterizations within this genre mashup, that makes the film—and, in particular, the final scene—so wickedly satisfying.