Tag Archives: independent film

Candy Colored Clown

Somnium

by Hope Madden

Hollywood is one big nightmare. That’s essentially the plot of writer/director Rachel Cain’s feature debut, a dreamscape where you’re never certain what Gemma (Chloë Levin) is experiencing and what she’s imagining.

Levine’s cinematic presence, no matter the film, is wholly natural, utterly authentic. There’s nothing uncanny about her. Her humanity and vulnerability inform every moment she’s onscreen. That may be why she’s such a perfect central figure in horror films like The Ranger, The Transfiguration, and The Sacrifice Game. However unnatural the plot or nemesis, Levine is a profoundly human anchor.

In this surreal Hollywood fable—part Neon Demon, part Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, part Inception, part The Substance—Gemma leaves a small town in Georgia to chase her Hollywood dreams. Lonesome, rejected, lost and always one step away from homelessness and failure, she takes a job at an experimental sleep clinic where people dream their way into believing they can achieve their ideal future.

Gamma works nights, studying scripts and babysitting sleeping clients. By day she auditions, faces rejection, daydreams about her old life, and flirts with the possibly creepy, possibly benevolent Hollywood insider, Brooks (Jonathan Schaech).

But the daydreams are leaking into her waking moments, huge chunks of time keep disappearing, and there’s this contorted figure with a twisted spine she keeps catching in her peripheral vision.

Cain’s script lacks a little something in originality—hers is hardly the first cautionary tale about striking it out on your own in Hollywood. Still, in subverting the idea of big dreams, playing with the notion that perception is reality, and mining the vulnerability and predatory nature of those with and without power in Tinsel Town, she hits a nerve.

She leaves too much unresolved, which is frustrating. But scene by scene, Cain casts a spell both horrifying and hopeful. Though the entire ensemble is strong, Levine is her secret weapon. The film falls apart if you don’t feel protective of Gemma, if you don’t long for her to succeed. Characteristically, Levine has you in her corner, even when lurking doom waits behind her in the shadows.

At the Mountains of Madness

The Sound

by Adam Barney

“Hey, what’s that?” is a phrase that has driven the majority of human exploration, from the first cave person to see a hill to your dad hearing a noise outside at night. This phrase also drives the plot in The Sound, as climbers ascend a forbidden mountain to check out what’s on top.

The CIA is aware of a mysterious signal emanating from the top of a mountain range in indigenous territory. A failed climbing expedition in the 1950s has brought them no closer to the truth, as none of the climbers returned. Now, six decades later, the tribal authority has agreed to let another team of climbers attempt the ascent. The mountain is sacred so they can’t drill or otherwise deface the surface, so the climb will also be technically difficult.

It is clear that writer/director Brendan Devane is an avid climber. There’s an attention paid to the specific details of the climbing depicted in the movie that you don’t see in other mountain climbing films. Characters carefully latch themselves into crevices, pitch their mountain-side tents, and otherwise skillfully scale a sheer granite cliff. No one is going to make an epic leap with an ice axe in each hand.

Cinematographer Ryan Galvan also does a tremendous job of capturing some breathtaking shots of the climbers as they ascend. They likely used professional climbers for the long shots and their cast for the close-ups, but it all blends together convincingly.

Outside of the climbing elements, the movie suffers from a generic sci-fi plot and dull characters. You won’t find yourself caring about any of them as they meet their various ends as they get closer to the mysterious object. There’s a fight scene that has some Power Rangers-esque choreography, including magically teleporting characters, that is truly groanworthy.

Some notable faces like William Fichtner (Blackhawk Down, The Dark Knight), Kyle Gass (Tenacious D), and Alex Honnold (Free Solo) show up for brief cameos, but they don’t really boost the movie, other than having their names attached. There’s a clear strength when The Sound is focused on the actual climbing, but it falls flat once it tries to mash in its sci-fi elements.

Not All Who Wander Are Lost

A Desert

by Adam Barney

The desert is a scary place and for good reason – it’s easy to get lost, there are poisonous reptiles underfoot, the conditions will kill you, and you might even run into the most dangerous thing – strangers who choose to live out there.

Alex (Kai Lennox, Green Room) is a landscape photographer traveling around the American Southwest trying to recapture a spark from his early career. He likes to shoot abandoned buildings, but he has a burgeoning attraction to shooting portraits of the desert’s denizens.

He takes an interest in Renny (Zachary Sherman) and Susie Q (Ashley Smith), a drifter couple staying next door at his cheap motel. After too many drinks, they promise to be his tour guides and show him some hidden sights in the desert, places that no photographer has ever seen. Bad decisions are made.

After his daily check-ins stop, Alex’s wife Samantha (Sarah Lind, A Wounded Fawn) hires a P.I. (David Yow, Dinner in America, Under the Silver Lake) to go looking for her husband and retrace his steps. What follows is a sun-drenched, neo-noir mystery that may be a little thin on narrative but delivers on atmosphere and vibe.

The film sprinkles in some supernatural elements on the fringes like a creepy old movie theater and an abandoned scientific facility. Is there something more going on here or is that just the desert playing tricks on your mind? Don’t expect it to be Lost Highway or Southbound, but these otherworldly touches add a welcome surreal layer.

Director Joshua Erkman and co-writer Bossi Baker clearly have an affection for noir. They enhance the basic “man gone missing” mystery through their setting, which creates a pervasive and nightmarish sense of dread.

If you enjoy a good slow burn mystery, A Desert is a trip worth taking.

Fatherhood of the Future

Daddy

by Rachel Willis

In a sterile conference room, a man speaks to a disembodied voice coming from a speaker. The voice is trying to determine if the man is the right kind of person to go on a government retreat that will decide if he would make a suitable father. If he’s not chosen, he will instead receive a vasectomy. So begins the dystopian comedy, Daddy.

Writers/directors Neal Kelley and Jono Sherman have crafted a new kind of hellscape with their look at toxic masculinity, the fear of vulnerability, and the competition that springs from the kind of scarcity that would lead a government to screen potential parents.

As four men arrive at the scenic mountain home, we’re given bits and pieces of the world that has given rise to such a scenario.  Mo (Pomme Koch) tells the others his girlfriend is at the female version of the retreat. The two decided to be screened at the same time. But while the men are housed in the lap of luxury, the women are apparently put through a more intense screening process. The subtle details that we pick up during the film’s run time make what we see on screen more interesting.

The men begin to descend into paranoia, leading to a certain amount of comedy as they try to decide what will make them seem like they’d be good fathers. The discovery of a realistic baby doll amps up the comedy.

Each actor brings a certain rigidity to their character that plays well with the idea that men have a hard time embracing their emotions. Scenes when the characters do display some vulnerability feel awkward – perfectly encapsulating how difficult some men find it to open up to other men.

When the film remembers that there is humor to be mined from such a situation, it shines. When it forgets, it becomes tedious.

However, it’s not hard to imagine this world, and Kelley and Sherman have fun wondering how men might react to the absurdity of it all.

Driver’s Seat

Something Is About to Happen

by Rachel Willis

After losing her job as IT support staff for a dental supplies company, Lucía (Malena Alterio) seeks employment as a taxi driver in Antonio Méndez Esparza’s Something is About to Happen.

I’ll admit I was immediately intrigued by the opening credits. The black text on red background and the string-heavy score sets a compelling tone for the film.

Following the energetic opening, things slow down a bit. We follow Lucía through several day-to-day tasks, including supporting her elderly father. But a fleeting conversation with a taxi driver sets Lucía on a new path.

And what could very easily be a mundane venture into new territory for Lucía is anything but. It sometimes starts to feel a little like Taxicab Confessions, but rather than something tawdry and banal, instead we watch a woman opening herself to a new world in exciting, curious, sometimes dangerous ways.

The film’s naturalism helps ground it as sinister elements weave their way into the fabric of Lucía’s life. There’s a haunting melancholy underneath Lucía seemingly boundless enthusiasm. As her façade slips, we can’t help but watch in fascinated horror.

There are some scenes that are a bit too long, but on the whole, each one compliments the next as we follow our hero as she navigates life, love, and loss in the driver’s seat of her taxi. More often than not, we’re given new information with each scene, learning more and more about Lucía and what makes her tick.

Crows populate the film, sometimes in unexpected ways. The birds have often been used as symbolism, and it’s not too difficult to tease out what they represent to Lucía and the film overall. Their appearance in the film, however, fluctuates between non-existent or heavy-handed. It’s a bit much when they could have been utilized in subtler ways. It’s hard to anticipate what might come next for Lucía, which makes the film and enjoyable watch even as it meanders off course from time to time.

Sci-Fi Silliness

Foil

by Christie Robb

When high school buddies Dexter (writer/director Zach Green) and Rex (writer Devin O’Rourke) meet up again on the eve of their ten-year reunion weekend, they decide to make the catch up more exclusive and head out West—into the sunset.

Or, in this case…East.

They’re taking the road from Bakersfield, CA into the desert toward a camping trip for two. To Olddale, where there’s rumors of a paranormal vortex.

Dexter hopes the mysterious vibes will unlock a font of inspiration. He’s a struggling director with a pitch meeting on Monday and a notebook full of empty pages and the concept “Big Bugs.” Rex is hunting UFOs. He’s convinced that he was abducted in high school and has the scar to prove it. And rumor has it that the vortex was caused by a UFO that crashed there 60 years ago.

When a chatty stranger (Chris Doubek) wanders into camp with a piece of purported alien foil, Dex and Rex butt heads on how to deal with him.

It’s a promising set up. The establishing scenes recall a young Kevin Smith—quick, self-effacing slacker banter in a 1997 video store. Background characters pop up, delightfully steal scenes, and then vanish (Ari Stidham from TV’s Scorpion as Felix the video store manager!)

The team got a lot of the technical stuff right. The desert is beautifully shot, all dusty golden hour and dramatic rock formations. The score is vintage western. Twangy, lived in, a bit camp. A great vibe for the project.

The second act rambles. Sometimes bromace. Sometimes X-Files. Sometimes stoner comedy. Often the Odd Couple. But not quite enough of any of the elements.

Our heroes are placed in physical danger. Their relationship teeters on the brink. But it doesn’t quite come together. In the end, it’s unclear who, if anyone, the audience is rooting for. But an adventure was definitely had.

Some Pig

Peppergrass

by Hope Madden

The pandemic was tough on everybody. Eula (Chantelle Han) lost her grandpa, made a bad decision with her bartender friend (Charles Boyland), and may lose her restaurant if things don’t turn around.

So, at the height of lockdown, these two restauranteurs takeoff into the night with a mysterious letter sent just after Grandpa died by a recluse he saved during the war. They decide to drive that letter 20 hours to the recluse’s acreage where they hope to find him and some truffles.

Really, really valuable truffles.

In the hands of co-directors Han and Steven Garbas, Peppergrass is, on the surface, a kind of backwoods culinary heist movie – which is more than intriguing enough. But the film, which Garbas co-wrote with Philip Irwin, delivers more than that.

The film is beautifully shot, from the somber color and framing of the urban opening act to the purposeful camera and sound work throughout the balance of the forest-heavy second and third acts.

Han’s Eula – in charge, no nonsense, desperate – anchors the film beautifully. The perfect counterbalance, Boyland plays at being the harmless dumbass. Thanks to a lived-in chemistry between the two actors and Boyland’s committed performance, you never root against his Morris no matter how much you want to smack him.

The script is clever, sometimes roughly funny, often surprising. Tonal shifts can be a problem, but generally Garbas and Han move smoothly, their framing and pace matching the swiftly shifting genre. Peppergrass swings from heist to horror to survival tale and back again, losing its footing only rarely.

Fear of contagion timestamps the film, but it also generates a kind of paranoia that heightens tension – the kind of tensions suited to backwoods survival tales. But Peppergrass’s greatest strength is how deftly it tells its real story – the one motivating the heist, which is never discussed outright, though it haunts the film.

Tense, surprising and delightfully unusual, Peppergrass is a gem of a thriller worth seeking out.

Can’t Go Home Again

Esme, My Love

by Hope Madden

We don’t know much about Esme (Audrey Grace Marshall) or Hannah (Stacey Weckstein), really.

Director/co-writer Cory Choy’s feature debut Esme, My Love keeps us in the dark about a lot of things. Choy leaves us to piece together what we can of the duo’s mysterious trip into the woods, just as Hannah leaves Esme to do.

More brooding mystery thriller than outright horror, Choy’s film plays on your imagination with gorgeous sound design and cinematography. An eerie mismatch of voiceover and image in the early going suggests that not everything with Hannah is A-OK.

Ostensibly, she’s taking her daughter to visit the old, abandoned family stomping grounds so the two can spend some time together. Esme, Hannah suggests, is sick. She doesn’t seem sick. She seems fine. Hannah, on the other hand…

The atmosphere Choy develops creates a hypnotic world perfectly suited to Hannah’s psychological unbending. Thanks to two malleable performances, that meticulously crafted atmosphere pays off.

Choy and co-writer Laura Allen refuse to spoon-feed you information. Their structure is loose, their explanations all but nonexistent. You’re left to parse through the images and sensations, determine what’s real and what isn’t, and decide things for yourself.

The ambiguity often works in the film’s favor. Esme, My Love possesses a brooding, nightmarish quality that, along with the two performances, keeps you guessing and interested. But to be honest, a touch more structure would have strengthened the film, which begins to feel lovely but unmoored before it’s over.

At a full 1:45, the film’s fluid storytelling and disjointed imagery flirt with self-indulgence.

Esme, My Love never offers any solid catharsis, any true clarity. Yes, you can guess the meaning of the climax, but with so much guesswork throughout, it feels less like ambiguity and more like a cheat. Or worse still, indecisiveness.

While frustrating, it’s not enough to sink a film that submerges you in a dark family tragedy and leaves you stranded.

This Property Is Condemning You to Death

The Tank

by Daniel Baldwin

Picture this: a loved one has passed away and you inherit a piece of property from them that they’ve never mentioned. You’ve been handed a house along the coast that comes with its own private beach. We’re talking beautiful, untouched land. An absolute dream come true, with no catch in sight.

Well, except for that weird water tank that’s hidden underground on the property. A tank that may or may not contain an ancient beast that loves to run amok when unleashed. That right, you didn’t just inherit your dream home. You inherited a horror movie as well. Congratulations!

Scott Walker’s New Zealand creature feature The Tank knows its tropes and revels in them constantly. If you’re rolling up to this coastal oasis of terror looking for heaps of originality, you’re going to swim away disappointed. However, if you’re the type that loves a good meat & potatoes monster movie, then you will find quite a bit to enjoy here.

There are two true stars of this bestial B-movie endeavor, with the first being the practical monster effects work on display from WETA Workshop. Their efforts here are just as good as you’d expect coming from the imaginative minds that brought forth the cinematic beasties on display in The Lord of the Rings trilogy, 30 Days of NightDistrict 9, and the cult classic Black Sheep. Richard Taylor and his team are in fine form, serving up a cool monster and delivering delicious creature carnage.

The other star is actress Lucianne Buchanan. While the other performances in the film are fine, Buchanan stands tall above the rest, gifting us with a new horror heroine to root for in family matriarch, Jules. Between her turn in this and her leading role on the recent hit Netflix action series The Night Agent, Buchanan is one to keep your eye on.

The Tank does have its issues. The pacing in the first two acts can be sluggish at times, the color palette can get a bit monotonous, and the family drama subplots don’t really amount to much. Of course, that’s not what we’re here for. The Tank promises you some lean, mean, and low budget monster escapism. For the most part, it delivers on that promise, so if this type of movie is up your alley, give it a look.

Glorious Madness

I’m an Electric Lampshade

by Christie Robb

Oh man, what can I say about this one? That it’s a celebration of the confidence of mediocre White men? That it’s an inspiring hero’s journey toward self-love and acceptance? It’s kinda both. And a bunch of other stuff.

It’s like a mix of The Office, Spinal TapAlice in Wonderland, and RuPaul’s Drag Race.

And the music videos. My God, the music videos.

I’m an Electric Lampshade follows Doug (Doug McCorkle), a 60-year-old corporate accountant, as he retires from office life to pursue his dream of becoming a concert performer. Director/writer John Clayton Doyle mines this material for all that it is worth—finding the humor, the heart, the beauty, and the weirdness in his cast and locations (the States, Mexico, and the Philippines).

The movie is based on the true story of Doug and is, at least in part, a documentary. But it also incorporates many fictional elements that give it a dreamy, hallucinogenic quality that at times verges on the cartoonish. This isn’t a “conventionally” good movie. It has the makings of a cult classic and is definitely a weird and wonderful little gem.