Review by Sarah Williams
Freeland is probably the gentlest stoner movie you'll see, and it's deeply rooted in emotion. Devi (Krisha Fairchild) is an aging weed farmer desperate to sell this year’s harvest, which may be her last due to the increasing restrictions that come with legalization. Unlike most films about drugs, it’s serene and unaggressive, instead portraying the ageless counter cultural spirit. A quiet, meditative examination of one woman’s struggle to adapt, it’s a backwoods look at changing times.
The easiest way to describe the film is that it feels like a stoner Kelly Reichardt film. The wilderness compositions are stunning, with a hazy fog rolling in at times, and a beating sun making the treeline glow gold at others. Mario Furloni and Kate McLean’s film is one with the world it is in, and their personal, almost documentary-like style is able to cover a limited story and sparse script. One of the film’s most stunning shots shows Devi popping her head out from underwater in a lake, perhaps reborn into a world she has been trying to avoid for years. Frequent Trey Edward Shults collaborator Krisha Fairchild is devastating to watch here. Her character, and her soon-to-retire partner (John Craven) are part of an older generation often considered more uptight and conservative about these matters, but she is part of a subset that is the last to be truly free. She didn't have to discover this natural world for herself, she began with it, and has stayed apart from the rules of the world. Losing her farm is an unwelcome force from society, one that begs her to integrate in a world she has never belonged to. For everyone else in the farm, this is a devastating loss of their lifestyles, but for Devi, this has always been her life. Certain Women breakout Lily Gladstone has a minor role, but is fantastic as usual. She adds a layer of warmth to her alt-hippie character, who is part of Krisha's band fighting against the industrialization of their livelihood. It’s a shame she doesn’t get more screen time, one of the aspects that could have been much more fleshed out in a longer runtime. Freeland is a story of found family beneath Devi's legal struggle. It's a cobbled-together group who've learned to care for each other out in the wilderness. They blend in with their surroundings just as much as the deer darting around the plains, camouflaged because they've learned to trust nature. This unbroken territory is their freedom, and the farm is the tether to the real world that allows them to have it. The eighty-minute runtime is almost completely set within this tight-knit group, a smart decision in limiting the film's scope.
To them, this harvest is what keeps their freedom, and legalization is taking their world away more than it gives them any leeway. Marijuana is one of the most tightly regulated crops in places that allow it to be grown and sold, and the tight-knit clan the film follows is not used to all the legal struggles that come with it. The ever-shifting industry is pushing them out in favor of corporate newcomers, and this strikes Devi heavily.
Issues that may come from making a film about a mainly white group of people in the industry are staved off by showing pre-legalization hippies. They aren't the ones directly coming in to gentrify in cities and sell expensive synthetics, they're just a found family who feel connected to the land, and this plant has been their life long before talk of legalization. They operate in a realm separate from this commercialized drug industry, so they're exempt from most of the discussion. Opening credits of warm, grainy home movie footage set a precedent for what is to come. This is a film that feels like a family memory, one telling the tale of how their lives changed. Conflict is only at the fore when Devi lets down her guard as she tries to shut it out, and in these moments we are let inside a legal battle to keep their lives. It’s so calm yet grounded in the desire for independence that the short runtime is nowhere near enough. It could reach a full two hours with flowing nature shots and calm gatherings, and fit perfectly into the world of slow cinema as an American entry. The appreciation for the outdoors is one of the strongest points, and drawing this out, along with more time to develop side characters, would make it an absolute knockout of a film. Freeland was set to debut at the cancelled 2020 SXSW Film Festival. It is currently seeking distribution. Rating: 3.5/5
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Review by Sarah Williams International Falls is for everyone dreaming of getting out of their small town. It's about human connection, and finding the right person that comes along to share a moment of similarity. It's a love letter to those hopeless mall towns that feel like they are walked in by something stronger than any physical barrier. Above all, it does this within standard indie festival premiere trappings, a lo-fi method of getting emotions across often skipped in broader stories. An aspiring comedian finds herself stranded in a small town mid-snowstorm, where she meets a disgruntled veteran of the industry. He is tired of comedy, and wants nothing more than to leave. Their attitudes towards comedy are what divide them most, but their shared ties to that world also bring them together. Dee (Rachael Harris) is middle-aged, and feels trapped by her life as a mother in International Falls, Minnesota. Tim (Matthew Glave) considers himself a burnt-out nobody, and as the two grow closer, he confesses that he is going through a divorce, and is about to lose custody of his son. Once the confessions start to fall out, the connection is real, and though it is hesitant, a gentle mutual understanding forms. It’s the kind of bond that comes with being in a bad place, and bored with life. The town of International Falls doesn’t have much to offer, and is part of a dying breed of small towns that the residents all want to leave behind, totally unconnected from one another. Cheating is not an obstacle here, as this is a bubble within their lives that will not leave the shared experience in this small town. So many stories of one night stands are about a one night stand gone wrong, but this is a one night stand gone right. This one night stand ends in a passing of advice between the overly hopeful and the overly hopeless, and they end up finding the sweet spot somewhere in the middle. It continues on after the one night unlike usual, but the relationship shifts enough that that one night is its own entity. Tim and Dee find momentary comfort in each other, and confessions spill out. That night’s comedy show will be Tim’s last.
The international aspect mentioned in the title is barely so. From the town, a bit of an industrial part of Canada is visible across the waters. There is no waterfall to speak of. The name of this small town perfectly exemplifies that village mindset. It over-exaggerates any ties to the outside world, hinging on the tiny hopeful view of Canada for purpose. International Falls is a nice, easy to follow indie flick that’s nothing to write home about, but solid entertainment. It's a simple two people coming together story to put on without having to think too hard, and it’s fairly engaging. The script balances comedy with heart, has dialogue that grows touchingly poignant, and features characters we actually care for. It is hard to make a comedy about the world of comedy, but instead of forced laughs, tender reality is the focus, and the humor comes from the mundane instead of the forced. It's not perfect, nor does it elevate the basic storyline and form much, but it's simple, sweet entertainment that does its job well. International Falls is now available on VOD. Rating: 3/5 Review by Sarah Williams By Day's End brings its pandemic horror at the most incidental of times. As the world is in a socio-political nightmare due to a raging bout of disease, a zombie apocalypse brought by disease rages on in this new VOD release. It's just as exhausting as real life, but still very much within the tropes of the typical zombie movie. Carly (Lindsay Lantz) and Rina (Andrea Nelson) are a lesbian couple on the verge of a breakup. Carly drops out of med school, and Rina loses her job as an attorney almost simultaneously, and the strain of their changing lives breaks down their relationship. A pandemic disease ravages their city, and the people around them are turned into flesh eating monsters. Suddenly their personal tensions are the least of their problems, and they band together to fight for their lives. For found footage, it’s often tricky to justify the use of the medium. Here, that at least is well introduced, with Carly saving up to purchase a new camera to pursue a career in videography. Her career hopes make filming their experience as practice reasonable, so at least it is a plot device instead of purely a gimmick. It’s a different kind of breakup film, one that alleviates the breakup. The couple pledges to repair their relationship even as they know it’s falling apart, but not even they can fully believe in their own words.
Lindsey Lantz and Andrea Nelson give good performances in this end of the world film, but ultimately the film’s small budget is its downfall. It often looks cheap outside some clever lighting choices, and the sound is a dead giveaway of its small indie status. The movie attempts to hide the poor quality of the shots by framing it as found footage and bathing everything in lime green, but it is so poorly framed anyway that this hardly remedies the problem. It’s hard to watch a film that feels so unprofessional, and while budget should be thought of when critiquing, it just feels like lazy, messy filmmaking. It also is not quite the lesbian horror film we’ve all been waiting for, with a relationship that feels so inauthentically written it’s hard to believe in the love at the core of the film. Michael Souder and Justin Calen-Chenn write from an inauthentic place and it shows. The dead lesbian trope is one that lies everywhere, not just the horror genre, where the gay women are always first to die. This is not broken, nor is any work done to make the trope subversive. The way it is followed is a particularly egregious breach of trust with the audience, but we won’t spoil the precise circumstances. The search for a good lesbian zombie movie must continue. The idea is good here, with bonding over the shared traumatic experience of a zombie apocalypse and falling in love again, but it’s so poorly executed and written it’s hardly likable. It sets itself up to be something different, yet is a painfully generic and grating iteration of “lesbian couple brutally attacked by monsters”. As a lesbian horror lover, it’s disappointing to see us represented like this again and again. By Day's End is now available on VOD. Rating: 1.5/5 Review by Sarah Williams Human Nature asks the hard questions about our changing world without ever really answering them. CRISPR technology has the power to rewrite our DNA, and to change the course of how we are immersed in nature. Once we can edit what occurs in the world, nature no longer has a fighting chance against us. Humanity has more power than we could have ever imagined. The film has a heavy focus on the scientists behind this technology, and the families that it has been able to change the lives of. With the fears of change comes some good. The advances in editing our genes can cure and predict disease, as well as change how human evolution occurs. Once we understand our genes we start to make informed decisions based on them, and that's without being able to make any changes. Once change becomes a possibility, we no longer have any barriers preventing selectivity, and as much change as budget allows. The worry is that this can lead to major ethical issues. Namely, the concern of eugenics takes precedent. The focus is on the positive instead, and makes a strong case for all the reasons we should have this new ability to wield. It's a human impact story packaged within education, meant to calm down the scare of the new technology that can change lives. Human Nature does help to quell these fears, and is a focus on how we can use these technologies for good. It is a full collaboration between the scientists and the filmmakers, so it has a steady hand in explaining the good that can be done with CRISPR. We see lives changed and made vastly easier, generic conditions avoided because we've advanced to the point to be able to do so. Is it unnatural to do so, or are we simply changing the building blocks that nature has already given us?
It’s a shame the film’s theatrical release has fallen victim to the COVID-19 closings, as with the current Oscars rules, a theatrical qualifying run could be the first step in a chance at nominations. It’s the kind of informative yet still engaging filmmaking that breaks out part of a new story with social relevance that awards bodies love to see. Awards regulations may be changing with the pandemic, and with it, the ability for this film to qualify. It's timely in a moment where science is the largest news story, and it's comforting to see what we've been up to before every scientist in the world has been called up to solve a global crisis. It’s the start of a broader movement, one where filmmakers come together with new scientific innovations from the start, so that the public can learn what is happening in an engaging manner. Many prefer to watch a video over reading a scientific journal article, and it's reasonable to assume most would. This brings advanced science to living rooms in an easily-digestible way, one where genetic engineering can become whole family viewing. If looking to learn something from home while shut in, Human Nature is a great start. Human Nature is now available on VOD. Rating: 3/5 Review by Sarah Williams M.O.M. (Mothers of Monsters) is a scarily timely thriller. Taking found footage deep within our reality, it makes the already scary mass shootings in American schools into horror. Unlike other supposedly socially relevant thrillers of recent years, like The Hunt, the news is made personal enough that the fear factor is strong. A single mother, Abbey (Melinda Page Hamilton), suspects her teenage son (Bailey Edwards) is plotting a school shooting, but when the system does nothing to listen to her, she is forced to take matters into her own hands. After installing an elaborate spy camera system in their home, Abbey captures a series of disturbing videos that confirm her worst fears of what her son is plotting. Torn between a mother's unconditional love and the need to do the right thing, Abbey caters her videos to all the other "mothers of monsters" online. Her plan backfires when her son Jacob brings out the family secrets, and the two enter into a game of deception and trying to stay one step ahead of the other. It's a competition between predator and prey, where the prey is a young wannabe killer. The themes of mothers fearing what their own sons can do is best known in Lynne Ramsay’s We Need to Talk About Kevin, which features a powerful performance by Tilda Swinton as she watches her son devolve even further into psychopathy. There's no real way to stop what's happening, and the film knows that, and it's instead just a reflection instead of horror with solution. “From its inception, this was not a film intended to offer concrete solutions or resolve,” says director Tucia Lyman. “It is a real-life horror and a true reflection of violence in today’s society." The film does a good job of not demonizing mental illness. It acknowledges what the kids are doing is individual cases with some commonalities, but not one underlying source or affliction. The solidarity between mother's dealing with trying to stop their children is one we often don't realize can come from these times of violence, but it shows that the root problem is at least known.
Often, the families are blamed for the horrific actions of their children. This is often what damages them, but is not always the case. Young boys especially are often radicalized online by groups exploiting the fearful anger of our recent generations, and those who are vulnerable or less seated in their morals are dangerously easy to derail this way. The mothers we see are not at fault for the most part, instead trying to figure out what had gone so wrong with their offspring. The reason why popular found footage horrors like Paranormal Activity and The Blair Witch Project lies in their believability. These leave our actors with what looks to be genuine fear, and we actually feel like we are watching real people in danger. The thematic elements of M.O.M. are so close to the very real fears we have as a society, so it is all the more believable for it. Found footage is often mischaracterized as an easy genre to make, because at-home equipment can be used while still fitting with the themes, but doing it well is another story. The webcam aspect is used wonderfully and it really feels like we are about to witness the real event. The cameras hidden to catch Jacob are very well utilized to feel like a real investigation, and this vigilante horror plays on real fears perfectly. M.O.M. (Mothers of Monsters) is now available on VOD. Rating: 3.5/5 Review by Sarah Williams The Dog Doc is a perfectly serviceable human interest story, even if it lacks any interesting filmmaking. Despite feeling like an informational news segment at times, It is an empathetic and hopeful look at what can be done to save animals who have been considered hopeless cases in the veterinary world. Three stories of sick pets are woven together to create the resounding success felt. Dr. Marty Goldstein is a veterinarian with a radical now way of caring for animals that are thought to be doomed by the rest of his colleagues. He is able to save many of these animals, though the industry doesn’t believe it, by taking a natural approach to medicine. The world of holistic medicine is often looked at as a solely human tool, even though it is about connection to nature. The veterinarians never prescribe some miracle cure, they instead go back to nature and look at what helps animals fight off disease in the wild. Domesticated animals are often looked at as unlike their wild relatives, so we often forget that wildlife is able to regulate without us. By strengthening their immune systems, the animals can perform what is looked at as a miracle by many and pull through. The real triumph of science is seeing how the body can heal itself with the right resources. Often the holistic healing is as simple as a change in diet, and these nutrients can be what strengthens the animal, instead of unnatural chemical treatments that often sap energy away that is needed to fight disease. The natural treatments aren’t the only thing used, as Dr. Goldstein is able to use liquid nitrogen to destroy tumors through freezing, a method some consider barbaric. Plenty of work is put in to show opposing perspectives, and those who doubt Dr. Goldstein’s method do get to speak, but we are only given snippets of disbelief, and never their reasoning. Instead of actually hearing why the holistic approach is frowned upon, it instead becomes a game of proving worth to the irrational, despite the supposed irrational being trained medical professionals in the field as well. There is also the risk of the ideas presented being used as evidence by anti-vaccination groups, who will take the idea that natural medicine has benefits to mean that all other forms don’t work. The holistic method is not just about natural remedies, but about blending these with new advances in science to aid their effects.
It’s the kind of film that is unapproachable for many due to the cliche question– does the dog die in the end? As opposed to, say, last year’s similarly subjected TIFF premiere Murmur (tells the story of a lonely woman who adopts animals from the shelter she works at that are about to be euthanized in order to fill a hole in her life), there is at least some hope here. We aren’t quite going to answer that question, but the film is about what seems to be miracles in the veterinary world, so it’s not a total Old Yeller situation. While not being anything special in the filmmaking department, Cindy Meehl’s The Dog Doc is an inspirational look at creative approaches to saving lives. The Dog Doc opens in theaters on March 13. Rating: 3/5 Review by Sarah Williams Close Quarters may dive closely within the struggles of toxic masculinity, but it is not enough to make the film feel like more than a poorly scored shouting match. Attempting to insert itself into the vein of a psychological/erotic thriller, the film falls flat emotionally, and is often dull. It's not to say our leads don't try — José Pescina and Paulina Gaitán give solid performances as spouses Manuel and Lupe. When Rubén (Jorge Jiminéz) takes a job under Manuel, he is looking to earn money to cross the US border, and Manuel happens to be struggling to have a child with his wife. It is suggested that Rubén takes over the pregnancy effort when Manuel is deemed infertile, but this has its own problems. The two men become friends as a way to help the other reach these goals, but aggression comes to prevail.
Each of the two men challenges the other’s masculinity. Manuel is softer and more emotional, while Rubén tries to fit the more traditionally ‘macho’ stereotype. However, these roles do little to affect the two men, who remain aggressive in their masculinity no matter what. Lupe is caught in the middle of these tensions as a sort of balancing force. While it is great to critique that toxic masculinity affects all men in some way, this is handled poorly. The film devolves into a bit of a yelling match that grows unfocused. It is meant to represent a balance between a man’s innate sensitive side, and the expected aggression, but the roles become too blurred for the contrast to come through. The film's music choices are often intensely distracting. Soaring anthems play over sex scenes, perhaps as a juxtaposition, but the effect ends up being comical and stale. The opening is nicely scored with gentler audio, but with much of the film being unscored, with long, quiet takes at times, these bursts of anthemic music are jarring. Even if it is meant to be a tonal shift told through the music, it is so oddly placed within the scene it almost feels like a ringtone going off in a theater. So much of the silence in the film feels deliberately affecting, so what is the point of the booming music interrupting intimacy? In terms of lighting, there is a direct choice made to avoid all sources of direct light. This grows to be a bit too diffused at times, and the shots flatten heavily. It is meant to induce melancholy, but these argument scenes, especially given the music choices, are supposed to be emotional outbursts instead of a slow, pulsing gloom. The performances are strong, garnered after rehearsals in a rented Airbnb over the course of two weeks. This brings a tension, a sort of over-containment, where the tensions almost seem to be natural strain. Fertility is so often a woman’s problem in film that it is refreshing to see infertility shown from a man’s perspective. By having Rubén, the more traditionally masculine of the two friends, as Manuel’s potential sperm donor, Manuel only feels more threatened and begins to lash out. He is already more emotional, and conscious of this, so he takes it as an even greater threat to his manhood. It is great to see male friendship portrayed onscreen, but by putting the two in competition, it only reinforces the idea that men must distance themselves from friends. Lupe is also heavily sidelined, put out of place by her husbands new bonds that she is often just there as the wife in the background, or even just a womb to fight over. Close Quarters debuted at the 2020 Slamdance Film Festival, which ran January 23-30 in Park City, UT. Rating: 2/5 Review by Sarah Williams The opening shot of La Leyenda Negra is probably the highlight of the film. Shot in black and white, it opens out of focus, and then straight in to the rebellion of teenagers simply existing in a place that does not welcome outsiders. Premiering in the NEXT filmmakers showcase category at Sundance, it is a feature that feels as if its ideas have outgrown it. It's not to say that it doesn't tell an important story — it's a film that certainly begs to be seen. However, the way these important ideas are presented is messy, unfocused, and struggles to fully reach the heart of what it wants to portray. Aleteia (Monica Betancourt) goes through the typical struggles dealing with her Compton classmates. She also happens to be a soon-to-be undocumented immigrant from El Salvador, about to.lose her status due to changing immigration laws. She's spending her senior year in limbo; she could lose her scholarship for college if she loses documentation, but that college is what will get her a student visa so she can stay. It's a fearful experience, one many must learn to empathize with, to not know whether this will be the last day before being reported from your own home. Aleteia's story is a reminder that not every kid has the same background; some work harder to get to the same end goal, and many have to fight just for a seat at the table. There is an alienation that comes from this, the being told you don't belong in your own country, and Aleteia is definitely affected. The black and white color palette is an interesting choice that may entirely work. It makes the film feel bleak, not ideal in moments meant to lend hope to the characters. It seems like it is trying to go for what Roma had, but set in contemporary America. However, the modern setting provides a strange contrast with the choice to shoot without color. It does look beautiful at times, which certainly should not be discounted. Singular frames can be pulled that look like the kind of dramatic candid photographs that go in museum exhibitions. This may be a nice way to do black and white, but for a film about the hardships of undocumented immigrants it doesn't quite feel gritty enough to approach the subject matter.
Usually films that act as activism premiere in the documentary categories of Sundance. While there is a lot of truth here, the film is an original screenplay. While it may serve a similar purpose in educating on a social issue, it is a narrative work of fiction, and should be discussed as such. While the roles of the characters may be realistic, their motivations and interactions are nonexistent and often stilted, making it feel like the characters only exist to prop up an important message.A successful scene is when a white teacher tries to preach to her class of black and Hispanic students about the greatness of the conquistadores. They laugh in her face, knowing their own history better than this woman who won't even pronounce their names properly ever could. A scene at a quinceañera is also exceptionally well-done, a rare depiction centered on the community instead of the materialism. Even when the film misses its mark, it certainly has a clear purpose. It's the kind of film that should be readily available on a streaming platform where it will have an audience that it can sway through empathy. It is a film begging to be heard more than it asks to be seen, with the digestible packaging ready to show those needing a face to apply to the immigration debate. Patrícia Vidal Delgado certainly has potential as a director. She does a fantastic job directing non-professional actors, and her characters are viewed very empathetically. While not entirely a success, it's an important story to tell, and a film that should be shown. La Leyenda Negra debuted at the 2020 Sundance Film Festival which ran January 23 through February 2 in Park City, UT. Rating: 3/5 Review by Sarah Williams Life pulsates with a beat that is too imperfect, too often changing, and too isolated. It swells with the sounds of notifications, sirens, and engines revving, but what surrounds those noises is scarcely heard. This is a world manufactured to be ignored, and this is our world. It is the world of Nadia Bedzhanova's mental health odyssey Beware of Dog, which touches on the daily lives of those who live in this world not made for them. The film follows three stories of mental illness interlaced in Berlin, Moscow and New York, showing how universal these experiences are. Three characters struggle within their own little worlds. Marina (Marina Vasileva) has her life in Moscow overshadowed by obsessive-compulsive disorder, which saps her time, and makes her life with her boyfriend harder and harder. Her cousin Paula (Paula Knüpling) struggles with bipolar disorder in Berlin, and the two find common ground. Mike (Buddy Duress) is the third of this triad, a boxer in New York struggling with addiction after lost love. These connections are made online at first, a juxtaposition with the very physical cities they navigate. All three stories are oceans apart yet the experiences are so alike, a testimony of the universality of struggle. The repetitive nature of OCD is particularly well-depicted, as long stretches of the film pause for Marina to act on her urges. Just like the film pauses, her life and ability to control it is pausing for that time. Mike’s story is somewhat based on actor Buddy Duress’s real life, and the actor had ended up in jail three times throughout production. Marina’s story also stems from life, based on director Nadia Bedzhanova’s experiences with obsessive compulsive disorder. She says the film is an attempt to poeticize both her story of immigration and OCD. There is so often a disconnect when moving far away, but her film shows that shared experiences can transcend place, and that sometimes struggling, whether with mental health, class, or sexuality, is what brings people together. What’s special about the film is that they feel like ordinary people- the lines are blurred between the actor and character, and it makes it easier for us all to see a bit of ourselves within them. The film feels like a sensory immersion tank, with layered sound design that feels like the movement of pool water, the chirping of birds, and the whirring of power tools is right beside us. The dialing up of the background noise is a wonderful thematic choice, making us just as overwhelmed as our characters. It’s almost as if we can hear the whole world at once. It’s reminiscent of the documentary All These Sleepless Nights in how it uses this music, synchronizing with synths in the night to give the world an immersive experience. It is bordering on documentary by having some actors play versions of themselves, and by following each of the three young adults through their day-to-day lives, the truths that are exposed feel as real as pure nonfiction.
"It is difficult to determine who you are, where you are, where even is your place in this world," is said during narration that plays during a protest set in Moscow. The narration calls for equality, for understanding, in a moment when the fight for equality is overwhelming to a protagonist. Protest footage from around the world is used, including New York anti-Trump rallies, Catalunya’s pro-independence movement, and a Moscow protest against freedom of speech. Most of this is in the cities that our characters inhabit, but the footage that is not serves to broaden the scope of exactly how worldwide it is. It’s all about the perspective that it brings, this connection from all over the world. Paula ends up with a girlfriend who does not share the same first language as her, but because they both speak English, they are able to connect based on other shared experiences. This is the opposite of Marina and her boyfriend, who live in the same city yet have little in common, and struggle to connect with each other. Perhaps origin is not as important when it comes to matters of the heart, as we all live the same lives in different places. Beware of Dog debuted at the 2020 Slamdance Film Festival which ran January 23-30 in Park City, UT. Rating: 4/5 Review by Sarah Williams “Sometimes it’s painful to be inarticulate,” opens Olivia Peace’s feature directorial debut Tahara. It’s a film that feels like a scrapbook, beginning with a collage of childhood photos and shot in a square ratio, a crafty choice that makes the film’s intercut animated sequences stunning. This animation is sometimes drawn on top of the live action, which is a lovely playful touch. Unlike the opening narrates, Peace’s film is indeed articulate, bringing an honesty to her young characters as they navigate the intersection between grief, Jewish faith, and a queer awakening. After the suicide of a classmate, best friends Hannah (Rachel Sennott) and Carrie (Madeline Grey DeFreece) learn more about themselves and each other. After the funeral, and class-wide ‘Teen Talk-Back’ therapy sessions, the two girls practice kissing on the synagogue bathroom floor. Carrie comes away feeling like she may be in love with her friend. The entire film takes place over the course of a day, moments of teenage heartbreak interspersed between a grieving community. “Then kiss me. Come on, just do it, it’ll be like, a second,” Hannah says. Jess Zeidman’s screenplay is gently realistic, preventing the flashier stylistic decisions from making the film feel cartoonish. The aspect ratio briefly spreads to fill the screen, in a moment akin to an iconic scene in Xavier Dolan’s Mommy, when the two girls kiss for the first time. When they kiss, the girls are replaced by puppets, which are used throughout the film during emotional climaxes. They are uneasy about it, teasing each other, and they don’t come out of the experience feeling the same way. Another layer is added when it is hinted that deceased classmate Samantha may have been a lesbian herself. Carrie begins to speak up for her once she hears the rumors circulated after death, and Hannah tries harder and harder to avoid any association indicating that she could be queer as she tries to capture the attention of classmate Tristan (Daniel Taveras). It’s not to indicate that Hannah doesn’t share the same feelings for Carrie, and maybe even for Samantha — the dynamic makes her character much like the character of Floriane in French lesbian cult-favorite Water Lilies, who has since been heavily discussed as being a lesbian who is repressing her sexuality. The lines between how Hannah and Carrie feel about each other are messy; they don’t define themselves because they are young and still figuring out all these complex issues of faith, grief, and sexuality for the first time. Hannah kisses Carrie again and asks to go further, but it ends up being for Tristan. They argue about sex, and the ethics of it all surrounding the funeral so closely. Carrie at least figures out what she wants that day, but it is clear that Hannah is still struggling to understand herself.
Coming of age so often feels inauthentic, especially when it’s stylized. Here, the teenagers talk like teenagers — they don’t always agree, they tease one another lovingly, and they dig into their own insecurities. They complain about how their school tries to make them confront grief, and they lash out about their feelings. They’re young and they’re still finding out more about themselves, and Hannah still doesn’t even want to approach how she feels, even if Carrie has confronted her. The queer Jewish experience is finally getting its moment in the spotlight, with lesbian drama Disobedience starring Rachel Weisz and Rachel McAdams a few years back also coming to mind. Both films deal with the complications of faith with a same-sex love awakening, but Tahara shows it happening at a much younger age. The film’s title refers to a Jewish ritual act of purifying the body after death. Not only is this discussed in a classroom scene, but the death of a classmate is what purifies the relationship to the simplest shared feelings for the two girls. Unlike Disobedience, Tahara is entirely about the women, not the power structures surrounding them. Sure, they question their faith and how it tells them to grieve, but it is a setting, not a conflict. It’s worth noting that it is a film that comes from the perspective it shows. Screenwriter Jess Zeidman is bisexual and Jewish, and says that she sees herself in both Hannah and Carrie. She and director Olivia Peace (who identifies as queer) discussed both having envisioned the character of Carrie as black, despite it not being explicitly called for in the screenplay, and cast the character as such. It is a lovely step for representation that challenges the ideal of white Jewish characters being the only ones onscreen, and may be the only example I can name of a queer black Jewish teenage girl being allowed to exist on film. It is a lovely bit of truth, and a story that needs to be seen, and the film is made in such an intimate, creative manner that it is hard not to love it. Tahara debuted at the 2020 Slamdance Film Festival which ran January 23-30 in Park City, UT. Rating: 4/5 |
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