Fantastic Fest 2022: Give Me An A!

A selection of short films in reaction to the overturning of Roe vs. Wade.

Synopsis: Expands the importance of bodily autonomy and addresses the issues of a democracy that does not protect the needs of the majority of the population.

The overturning of Roe vs. Wade in June this year felt like a blow to everyone who may find themselves with an unwanted, dangerous or unviable pregnancy. Limiting crucial access to often life-saving healthcare for a significant part of the population felt like a cruel blow, even for those outside the USA. Give Me An A! is a selection of critiques of that decision and the thoughts around it, bringing sci-fi, horror, comedy and satire in a collective reaction.

Following a dedication to ‘our mothers, our grandmothers and all those upon whose shoulders we stand today’ A! introduces a changing room of teenagers. The group engage in talk about proper tampon use and other subjects like the fetishisation of their uniforms before launching into a routine about bodily autonomy. Already, there is a cohesion between those women who have gone before and those having to ready themselves to fight again, creating a powerful statement about the current situation.

The shorts that make up the film range from the emotionally disturbing The Voiceless, the satire of DTF and even the faux-infomercial stylings of Plan C, to name but a few. Boasting an impressive list of creatives and performers each segment possesses its own clear identity and a different handling of the material. This careful placement and movement through different tones sustain the film’s energy, allowing an ebb and flow of lighter and more distressing takes.

Whether the segments are skewering the relative apathy of men in the face of bodily autonomy (DTF and the Love-Island-style gameshow Crucible Island), seeking to explore the very real impact on young girls (the slick transitions and emotional weight of Sweetie) or taking a more body-horror-related angle (The Voiceless and Medi-Evil) the throughline in them all is, understandably, rage. Even the cutaways back to the cheerleaders, staring into the camera as they announce the next film are all imbued with a sense of anger that hangs over the whole project.

As with any anthology, viewers will find more to like about some sections than others. However, with clear tackling of such a pressing concern each offering feels relevant and more importantly, potent.

4 out of 5 stars

Give Me An A! screened as part of Fantastic Fest 2022. Find out more about the festival at their webpage.

Fantastic Fest 2022: Lynch/Oz

Alexandre O. Philippe continues to deliver absorbing studies of his subjects, accompanied by a host of creatives.

Synopsis: Victor Fleming’s film The Wizard of Oz (1939) is one of David Lynch’s most enduring obsessions. This documentary goes over the rainbow to explore this Technicolor through-line in Lynch’s work.

If you are familiar with Alexandre O. Philippe documentaries, Lynch/Oz will be unlikely to surprise you. This does not buck the trend of engaging, aborbing, video-essay style explorations that are focused on how the smaller moments come to build a much bigger picture. This time the focus is on the collision of two seemingly distinct types of media: the classic film The Wizard of Oz and the films of David Lynch. Lynch, the film posits, has been inspired by Oz more than anything else and the threads are there to unpick in all of his work.

The documentary is divided into sections, each narrated by a creative with their own specific interest to highlight. Rodney Ascher, himself no stranger to the obsessive detail that documentary can bring following his own Room 237, takes on the ‘Oz narrative’, doubles and the ‘fish out of water’ character that has come to influence Lynch so heavily in Membranes. John Waters explores his and Lynch’s love-hate relationships with villains and the 1950s as well as their personal interactions in Kindred.

Elsewhere, Aaron Moorhead and Justin Benson dig into Lynch’s playfulness as a ‘populist surrealist’ and the way he plays with American myth and collective fetish in Judy. Amy Nicholson too, draws attention to the moments where a film ‘looks at’ an audience, inviting them on the rest of the journey in Wind. The film finds perhaps its central thesis in Karyn Kusama’s section, Multitudes, in which Lynch is directly quoted as saying, ‘there is not a day that goes by that I don’t think about the Wizard of Oz‘. Drawn together neatly David Lowery’s final section, Dig, focused on journeys and transportation finds space to discuss the wider impact of artistic influences.

The variety of contributors, whether they know Lynch personally or are inspired by his work adds a great deal to the documentary. Lynch’s many years of work can, at first, seem sprawling and difficult to connect beyond a few of his well-discussed tropes. However, as the film progresses, like the colour arriving as Dorothy enters Oz, more and more light is shed upon those influences, the lens of Oz offering a magical view of Lynch as a prominent American film-maker with much to say, often working in a system that finds his work knotty and difficult to unpick.

The voiceover work is clear, with carefully selected clips keeping a steady rhythm, allowing each contributor the chance to highlight their view. Some will undoubtedly find this slow in places, but it would be more accurate to say unhurried and keen to dwell on those moments. This allows those influences to become ever-clearer, strengthening each section as they come to build on one another.

An often hypnotic journey through the origins of what is now commonly known as Lynchian, this celebrates both Oz as a film and a cultural institution, responsible for providing the building blocks for some of the most engaging American film-making of the last few decades. An absolute must for David Lynch fans.

4 out of 5 stars

Lynch/Oz screened as part of Fantastic Fest 2022. Find out more about the festival at their webpage.

Fantastic Fest 2022: Nothing (Intet)

A tumultuous coming-of-age tale that indulges the darkness under the surface of a ‘perfect town’.

Synopsis: A group of 8th graders who confront the meaningless of life and leave behind the innocence of childhood.

There are two distinct worlds established at the outset of Nothing – the outward-facing, rule-observant idealistic one, full of parents who want their children to be guided in the right direction and the one beneath that image, of children left alone to fill their time, resulting in the group starting to explore their own directions and meanings in life.

Writer-director Trine Piil Christensen, adapting from Janne Teller’s novel situates herself firmly in the world occupied by the children, keenly aware of the adult’s indiscretions and relative lack of interest. The film’s inciting incident in which school boy Pierre Anthon (Harald Kaiser Hermann) has an outburst at school, declaring everything meaningless, before retreating to the safety of a nearby tree and refusing to come back down is an unusual one, seemingly purposely chosen to showcase the ineffectual parenting surrounding them. The rest of the children begin to mount a campaign to show him what they find meaningful, but Pierre Anthon’s existential crisis soon sets in motion an epidemic of nihilistic thinking amongst the group.

Much of the early parts of the film rely heavily on a voiceover from Agnes (Vivelill Søgaard Holm) who calmly intones about tragedies yet to unfold. At times, this feels like too much of a shortcut, with much of what we know about the characters delivered through that voiceover, rather than in more organic ways. This does occasionally feel clumsy, introducing snippets of exposition just before dramatic events without allowing the viewer to understand entirely. However, given that this film is largely concerned with the troubles of meaning (or lack of meaning) this does function on another level, prompting the audience to view each incident through both Agnes’ meaning and what plays out in front of them.

The sedate pacing too, imbues the film with the same impression the audience is given of the children’s lives. These are children with lots of time to spend together and they struggle to fill that time. Even those who are given parental figures with more status or involvement, like Frederik (Frederic Linde-Fleron), the head teacher’s son, are only viewed fleetingly, based on the ideas the group have about them. This, again, is assisted by the voiceover but the need for it to do quite so much of the heavy lifting in building that world sometimes bristles. This, along with a swerve into an odd direction during the third act that is not quite given the time it requires, hints at a sense that this would perhaps sit more comfortably in a much longer, episodic format.

This is, perhaps obviously, given the subject matter, an incredibly dark film, especially with so many younger performers involved. These dark moments are handled with an appropriate sense of dread and while many of the scenarios could easily stray into the exploitative (and may well overstep that line for some), there is an impressive amount of restraint employed, holding back so the moments that are fully revealed to the audience hit all the harder. The escalating trades the children begin to make in their search for meaning grow steadily darker and the young cast are all excellent at conveying their sways from innocence, to sadistic behaviour, all with a sense of insecurity at the heart of it. Maya Louise Skipper Gonzales is a standout as Sofie, taking a role that could easily become cliche and making it compelling.

While Speak No Evil may be the Danish horror that has everyone talking this year, Nothing also offers that very European darkness and unsettling themes that linger beyond the credits.

3.5 out of 5 stars

Nothing screened as part of Fantastic Fest 2022. Find out more about the festival at their webpage.

Fantastic Fest 2022: Satanic Hispanics

A collaborative effort, awarded the Best Directors in the Fantastic Fest Horror Features category brings plenty of variety to this solid anthology.

Synopsis: A police raid uncovers a mysterious man chained up in a locked room. This mysterious man, who only refers to himself as the Traveler, leads us through four stories.

The Traveler (Efren Ramirez) is taken into police questioning following the gruesome discovery of a warehouse in which numerous people have been killed. As the lone survivor, he is of particular interest in finding out what has happened, but as the questioning progresses he seems to reveal more questions than answers.

Anthology films have to achieve a balance between their stories – too much comedy and each segment starts to feel similar, too much outright horror and the overall feel is too heavy. Satanic Hispanics, while leaning somewhat towards the more comic side just about gets this right. The wraparound set in the police station offers plenty of moments for the film to poke fun at itself as increasingly puzzled Detective Gibbons (Sonya Eddy) and Arden (Greg Grunberg) try to keep pace with his fantastic stories. The easy chemistry between the trio allows the film to rest between segments, building up to a visually impressive, music video-like finale.

Director Demian Rugna immediately delivers on the scare factor with a story about a man named Gustavo (Demián Salomón) who has seemingly found a way to make contact with the afterlife. However, as with many otherworldly discoveries, this has implications that he is soon forced to confront. This has a few well-pitched scares, coupled with a genuinely engaging concept, making it the perfect introduction.

Immediately switching tones, we head into the proudly silly El Vampiro, in which a mix-up over timings sends the titular vampire (a strong comedic showing for Hemky Madera) into a panicked rush for home. After the weight of the first entry, this provides a much-needed reset. This section is one of two that I would really appreciate seeing with a crowd (the other being the Hammer of Zanzibar) as the construction and escalation of the comic elements feel specifically designed for a late-night festival audience.

That isn’t to say that Satanic Hispanic forgets to provide horror, however, Gigi Saul Guerrero’s segment provides an emphasis on ritual and pain. While there is plenty of horror action elsewhere, this is the section that leans into a sense of brutality, seeking to make the most of the physicality. Close-ups enhance the sense of suffering throughout, making it one of the film’s most tactile entries. The placement allows for an ebb and flow of tone, offering the darker entries a lighter counterpart.

Impressive in its ease of atmosphere and keeping the number of stories manageable, Satanic Hispanics stands to be a real festival crowd pleaser.

3.5 out of 5 stars

Satanic Hispanics screened as part of Fantastic Fest 2022. Find out more about the festival at their webpage.

Fantastic Fest 2022: The Offering

High energy frights, religion and family ties make for an overly familiar horror outing, albeit one with a pleasingly mean streak.

Synopsis: A family struggling with loss finds themselves at the mercy of an ancient demon trying to destroy them from the inside.

Arthur (Nick Blood) is returning to his roots, bringing along his wife Claire (Emily Wiseman) for what will be a tense reunion. While his father Saul (Allan Corduner) does seem to want to welcome him back, a more chilly reception awaits him from Heimish (Paul Kaye). Familial differences are not the only issue, however, as a body brought to the funeral home proves to be anything but routine.

The opening scene of The Offering functions as a decent showcase for what is to come, introducing a scene of religious-leaning horror, based around a demon known as ‘the taker of children’. With that unpleasant groundwork laid, the film switches to Arthur and Emily, starting to foreground Arthur’s departure from his community and the tension that brings to both of them. That they are visiting a funeral home soon sets expectations for creepy goings-on that the film is keen to progress.

Placing the action in a Jewish community presents an opportunity for the film to explore some often-underexplored customs and beliefs but this is arguably one of the film’s weaknesses. Throughout, you want more of that identity, more of those elements that could help it stand out. Aside from a few moments of ritual that are both compelling as well as important set ups for later events, this feels far too divorced from it, resulting in a film that feels too similar to many other horror films. This is not aided by some uninspiring CGI and a colour scheme that fails to differentiate it from other genre pieces.

Where the film works well is in the way it mostly confines characters to the funeral home, building up the pressure but also a kind of geography of the house that translates to the viewer, adding to the anticipation of the next scare. The Offering does possess some great kinetic energy with the funeral home doors slamming and swinging to avoid things feeling static in the same surroundings. Elsewhere an otherwise well-worn scare involving a camera finds a partial swerve that satisfies. However, much of this became standard jump scare fare with sudden bursts of volume drawing attention over anything more unique.

Those with more of an appetite for this kind of horror will likely rate this much higher and it should certainly find an audience looking for a late-night creep-fest.

2.5 out of 5 stars

The Offering screened as part of Fantastic Fest 2022. Find out more about the festival at their webpage.

Fantastic Fest 2022: Tropic

Edouard Salier’s vision of brothers coming to terms with a life-changing event is striking, absorbing work.

Synopsis: Year 2041, France, two trained astronaut twins go through a lot when one of them is contaminated with a mysterious residue from space.

Tristan (Louis Peres) and Lazaro (Pablo Cobo) are twin brothers, deep in training for a desperate colonisation mission named the Eternity mission. With their physical and mental condition of primary importance, both of their lives are thrown into chaos when Tristan is injured during a late-night swim.

The genre elements of Tropic are fairly light-touch, for the most part, allowing the film to focus on the characters rather than the specifically ‘sci-fi’ trappings. Much of the early part of the film is given over to getting to know the brothers and witnessing their training. That context and foregrounding of their relationship set the tone for what follows. That said, those elements are well realised, with Tristan’s condition managing to convey a sense of the otherworldly alongside very human pain. The inciting incident is handled brilliantly, giving a sense of scale without feeling out of place for an otherwise entirely grounded film.

Setting the action only around 20 years in the future frees the film from needing to add too much in the way of on-screen technology or effects. Rolling news channels may be discussing space in a way that feels futuristic but they still look very much like today’s offerings. This is a film that is more concerned with exploring the casualties of relentless progress and the cost of that to everyone. The Eternity mission is given vital importance in the film’s world, thanks to ecological concerns on Earth reaching a dangerous peak. The solution to colonise another planet, requiring immense efforts and damage is one that the film allows to hang over its characters for the duration.

Salier provides a contrast between the intensity of the brother’s training and their more relaxed home life. The switch from the stark surroundings of the training facility and the sun streaming through the windows of their home perfectly shows the strange situation the young men find themselves in. The pair playfully joking with their mother about her dating prospects feel worlds apart from the stoic men we see during their training. An intimate, hand-held camera enhances the closeness to the characters and is allowed to become almost dizzying when the action calls for it. Brief, tranquil chapter cards appear over scenes of nature, offering pause from the film’s emotional and physical movement.

For the most part, this rests on the performances. Peres’ Tristan is sidelined to some degree by the nature of what has happened to him but still delivers a solid performance with deeply affecting moments. As Lazarou, Cobo takes up a lot of the film’s space – it is his reckoning with the world he finds his brother in, with its cruelty and pushing progress above all else. It is a magnetic performance, full of moments of hypocrisy, tenderness and rage. Marta Nieto completes the family with a performance that grapples with keeping her commitments to both her sons. While the central family takes up much of the time, a strong supporting cast provides the links to the other trainees as well as a group that Tristan finds a kinship with.

A stunning, light-touch genre effort with haunting, human moments.

4.5 out of 5 stars

Tropic screened as part of Fantastic Fest 2022. Find out more about the festival at their webpage.