Review by Sean Boelman

Grame Arnfield’s experimental video essay documentary Home Invasion debuted at this year’s Berlinale, and is now playing at Fantasia, hoping to unsettle adventurous festival-goers. Although the film starts extremely well, it quickly loses its steam when it diverts its focus from the reason many viewers were likely drawn to its premise.

Home Invasion explores the history and meaning of the doorbell, from its invention through labor movements, cinema history, and the modern online world. The movie is billed as part experimental horror film and part video essay, and while that description is accurate, it would have been much more effective if those two genres didn’t feel like such disparate parts within the movie.

The entire film is shot with a distorted iris effect, as though we are watching through a peephole or doorbell camera. Of course, much of the footage is actual doorbell cam footage — but this effect is also applied to the archive materials and the on-screen captions used in lieu of narration. It’s a stylistic approach that makes sense considering the subject matter, but may be off-putting to some. (It is also worth noting that there are some grammatical errors in the text, which reduces some of the movie’s effectiveness.)

The first third of the film is absolutely fascinating. We begin with a discussion of the invention of the first doorbell camera, before transitioning into the more modern versions that we know as Ring doorbells — as the company has such a near-monopoly on the market. Here, Arnfield asks some interesting questions about whether Ring is a hardware company or a surveillance company that watches over the world constantly like Big Brother.

For the first thirty minutes, the movie is wholly unsettling. It’s the type of minimalistic, dread-inducing film that had the potential to be this year’s Skinamarink. The score is grating (in a good way), and the ominous use of the Ring tone will send shivers down your spine. Even when the footage being presented is something innocuous, or even funny or cute, we begin to feel a voyeuristic sort of anxiety.

Unfortunately, Arnfield is unable to keep up this momentum. The middle third of the movie turns into a cinema history essay of sorts, where Arnfield explores the history of the home invasion genre in film, before the final third begins to tell the story of the Luddites using drawings. Although the thematic connection between the three sections is evident, Arnfield does not do a good enough job of weaving them together narratively.

The movie does offer an often interesting examination of the role that fear-mongering plays in our society; however, its discussion of the goods and evils of technology is much less compelling. Especially considering the fact that the film was almost entirely made within software. Eventually, the movie starts to feel like a rant more than a video essay.

Home Invasion is an intriguing video essay that will certainly make you think, but it’s not an entirely rewarding or satisfying cinematic experience. Had the film been able to keep up the undeniably eerie momentum of the first third throughout its entire runtime, it would have been great. As is, it’s a bit underwhelming.

Home Invasion screened at the 2023 Fantasia Film Festival, which runs from July 20 to August 9.

​Rating: 3/5

Review by Sean Boelman

Director Junta Yamaguchi and writer Makoto Ueda’s first film Beyond the Infinite Two Minutes took Fantasia by storm when it played there in 2021, and now their second team up, River, brings them back to the festival two years later. While not as strong as the duo’s first effort, River is still a crowd-pleasing sci-fi comedy.

The movie follows the visitors and staff of a riverside inn as they find themselves stuck in a time loop, where everyone resets to their initial positions every two minutes, but keeps their memories. Like Beyond the Infinite Two Minutes, River is a charming little high concept sci-fi despite its occasional contrivances and conveniences.
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For the first third of the film, it can be a bit grating as it’s stuck firmly in “we have to tell everyone what is happening” mode. Admittedly, this is where the movie’s commitment to some semblance of reality drags it down. Ueda clearly wants this to feel like what people would do if time machines did exist, and while explaining it a million times to different people is probably what would happen, that doesn’t mean it's particularly cinematic.

Thankfully, the film eventually runs out of characters for exposition to be delivered to, and this is where the movie gets really charming and interesting. It’s interesting to see how the different characters begin to react to their circumstances. Some put their heads together to find a solution, others embrace it and try to live in the moment, and one even gets extremely nihilistic.

For the most part, the film feels very sweet and wholesome. Although there are a couple moments in which Yamaguchi leans into the darker potential of the premise, even these bits are delivered in a tongue-in-cheek way. There’s a romantic subplot that, while not super prevalent, adds a lot of humanity to the story.

Ueda’s script thrives in its ability to give us an ensemble of characters that feel surprisingly fleshed out for a movie that’s under an hour and a half in length. While they may start out as archetypes, the various “cycles” that we go through in the movie allow the audience to peel back the layers of their personalities in a way that is quite interesting.

Although the film is very low-budget, Yamaguchi manages to make the most of his limitations. The cinematography, while having an extremely digital feel to it, is extremely fluid for its two-minute takes. And perhaps most impressive is his command of blocking and geography, which give the movie a much-needed feeling of motion.

River arguably swings bigger than Beyond the Infinite Two Minutes, and while it’s not as effective, it’s certainly charming. The duo of Yamaguchi and Ueda have cemented themselves as two of the most exciting voices working in Japanese independent cinema today, and genre fans will be waiting eagerly to see what they do next.

River screened at the 2023 Fantasia Film Festival, which runs from July 20 to August 9.

Rating: 3.5/5

Review by Joseph Fayed

Characters breaking free from the normalcy that plagues them serves as a basis for most indie road trip dramas that earn rave reviews at film festivals these days. Between the beautiful scenery lies an interesting character study. The Unknown Country draws you in through the former, but leaves you disappointed in how the latter was overlooked. 

The film follows Tana (Lily Gladstone) is invited to her cousin's wedding. After reconnecting with her family, Tana decides the best way to honor her late grandmother's legacy is to continue traveling and retrace her grandmother's steps. Along the way, she meets a variety of people from different walks of life who define her journey. 

A filmmaking technique that worked well in the films favor was the hybrid style narrative approach featuring non-professional actors in supporting roles. They are the backdrop of this film. Every time Tana departs somewhere, we learn their backstory. These moments serve their purpose in explaining their lives in the actual small towns parts of the film were shot in. The catalyst of this film is supposed to be Tana's grandmother's death, but her unorthodox journey takes its focus away from that. The shift in highlighting the people Tana meets along the way gives much more to anticipate than a single course of action like honoring her grandmother. 

Review by Sean Boelman

When one thinks of indie filmmaking, sci-fi probably isn’t the first genre that pops to mind, but several filmmakers in recent years have tried their hand at telling sci-fi stories on a shoestring budget. Jared Moshé’s Aporia takes its unique premise and creates a compelling, if flawed film that’s generally more effective as a drama than it is as a dense science fiction tale.

The film follows a widow who, with the help of her late husband’s best friend, realizes that there is a way to bring her husband back using a time machine — only to set off a web of impossible choices. And while one might expect a somewhat standard time travel flick from this premise, Moshé manages to put an interesting spin on the genre’s tropes.

Moshé’s script definitely takes some time to get moving. The first act is a bit rough, as Moshé struggles to set everything up about the characters, premise, and world — falling back on exposition a bit too often for his own good. But after this is all out of the way, viewers will be able to get more invested in the story.

One area in which the film greatly succeeds is giving the audience several characters about whom we are able to genuinely care. While the character motivations are a tad on the generic side — it’s another genre film about grief, as if we didn’t have enough of those — the sincerity with which it approaches these emotions allows the film to resonate nonetheless.

The visuals of the film are clearly lower-budget than most sci-fi films, but director Jared Moshé manages to make the most out of it. The film brings the work of other filmmakers like Moorhead and Benson or Shane Carruth, where it deals with these big concepts but in a way that is extremely character-driven and feels like it could genuinely happen in our world.

As is the case with many lo-fi sci-fi movies, the primary focus of Aporia is firmly on asking big, philosophical questions. And while some of these are thought-provoking, many of them are the same themes that have been explored more effectively in better films — like the ethicality of taking one life to save several. Other questions posed by the film mean well, but are head-scratchingly regressive if you begin to fully dissect them.

As usual, Judy Greer manages to single-handedly elevate the film with an extraordinary performance, despite material that is somewhat uneven. Particularly in the final third of the film, where the emotions she experiences are much more complex and nuanced, she’s absolutely gripping. Surprisingly, no one in the supporting cast — even the exceptional Iranian actor Payman Maadi — is able to ascend beyond the script’s melodramatic leanings.

Aporia gets off to a bit of a rough start, and has a few stumbles along the way, but it’s still mostly charming as a scrappy indie sci-fi movie. Strong performances and a whole-hearted commitment to the film’s emotional core will ensure that audiences are won over by the time the credits roll.

Aporia screened at the 2023 Fantasia Film Festival, which runs from July 20 to August 9.

Rating: 3.5/5

Review by Sean Boelman

Gina Gammell and Riley Keough’s directorial debut War Pony debuted at last year’s Cannes Film Festival, but went relatively under the radar until earlier this year, when it played at SXSW. War Pony is one of the most impressive directorial debuts of the year so far, exploring its themes in a way that is certainly difficult to watch, but still feels tremendously necessary.

The film follows two Ogala Lakota young men growing up on the Pine Ridge Reservation — one a teenager trying to set himself back on the straight path, and another a younger boy who keeps finding his way into trouble. Although the movie hits some familiar coming-of-age beats, and leans heavily on tragedy, it never feels like it simply exists for the purpose of pulling on the viewer’s heart-strings.

War Pony is certainly upsetting, but it isn’t because of anything it shows being particularly gratuitous. Instead, it is the fact that we are watching the disturbing and bleak reality of how disadvantaged youth — particularly Native disadvantaged youth — are treated in this nation. It will never not be upsetting to watch kids making bad choices and being mistreated, but the world’s attention must be called to these issues.

In showing these boys’ life on the Pine Ridge Reservation, the film explores many of the issues that these youth go through. The most compelling theme is arguably the exploitation of the Native youth by the nearby white community, but there are also some interesting bits about cultural identity and the role of masculinity in Native American communities.

What is most impressive about this movie is how amazingly balanced its character development feels. Usually in films with interconnecting stories like this, there’s one side that feels dominant, and the other feels like an accent. Here, audiences will consistently feel intense emotions about both storylines, and when they come together, it’s quite heartbreaking.

War Pony features what deserves to be two star-making performances from Jojo Baptiese Whiting and Ladainian Crazy Thunder. Interestingly, the two give turns that feel like a perfect complement to one another. While Whiting gives a harsh performance with elements of humanity shining through, Crazy Thunder has much more of a tough facade with a clearer humanistic undercurrent. Both performances are truly devastating.

For this to be the directorial debut of both Gammell and Keough, the movie is stunningly confident from an aesthetic standpoint. The film’s use of juxtaposition is brilliant. There are hip hop songs against tribal chants, beautiful shots of cars weaving through the plains, and images of industrial development against the natural beauty of the land. It has an awe-inspiring, provocative effect.

War Pony is the type of subtly harrowing movie that will stick with you for a long time. You will undoubtedly feel uncomfortable and voyeuristic while watching it, but that’s the mark of an exceptionally challenging and effectively provocative film.

War Pony hits theaters and VOD on July 28.

​Rating: 4.5/5