Entering the green room, 366’s Giles Edwards was surprised to observe such a full house. From right to left on the couch sat Louiza Aura, Leonor Oberson, Aminata Thiboult, and Nicky Murphy, the three leads and the director. Off in the far left corner, Fantasia press-person Maggie studiously typed away on their laptop, while in the near-left corner sat Nicky Murphy’s partner with their infant. To 366’s right, an unidentified woman assured us that she needn’t be identified. Our thoughts slightly swimming from a lack of sleep and innumerable films, we dove headlong into an question and answer session for the I Love Paris team about their vampire/music mockumentary. So commenced a fun fifteen minutes.
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Montréal 2026
Samuel de Champlain for my real friends and Samuel de Realplain for my sham friends.
7/23: Sekiro, No Defeat
Kenichi Kutsuna made an interesting choice here, though perhaps it’s explainable as being the less-expensive one. I have played the video game Sekiro, and managed to batter my way through a bit of the narrative; it’s a lush fantasy samurai epic, with supernatural doings throughout a long story featuring conspiracy, political machinations, betrayal, and so on. But the team behind the adaptation focused on something I did not expect. Sure, sure, there are some fights scenes of adequate quality, and the core NPCs are all there (special shout-out to the smirkingly tragic undying samurai mentor), but the film focuses on the father/son-esque relationship between Wolf and the Divine Heir, with sundry scenes of bonding between them—including making confectionaries for the townsfolk’s festival. (I do not remember this bit from the game, but again: I didn’t get far.) Curious soundtrack choices, too. Hm.
The Eyes
The rule of thumb for me at Fantasia is I should scale back my official reactions to films until I hear from my peers. I like to like movies, and this tendency can lead me to enjoy certain movies I possibly shouldn’t: like Yeom Ji-ho’s stalker/horror thingy, wherein the passing of one twin sister (both with a degenerative condition of the eyes) causes the other to suspect the circumstances and investigate the mystery—all while her own vision deteriorates. I got on board with the twists and tropes (“derivative” is a quick way to describe the film), but plenty here disagreed, and I have no arguments. Indeed, one famous film critic (and all-around horror afficionado) emerged from the screening with a look of abject bewilderment and an obvious need to get something off his chest. Being the nearest victim, I spent the next few minutes absorbing his incredulous disappointment.
PLOT: Sadie becomes increasingly distracted from work and social life as her sexual fixation with insects blooms.
WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: Sadie’s acts of orgasmus ex insertione vaginali gryllorum stand out from most other movies, and the ongoing dream sequences lend an otherworldly oddness to her unlikely onanism.
COMMENTS: Around the age of eight, I developed my first phobia. Beetles and other large, shelled bugs fascinated me as a boy, and I even had a small collection of specimens. Down by the the pool one day, I discovered a robust beetle, its body drawn together in the shape of a large almond. I brought it upstairs and inside to our pantry, where there was a convenient window sill for drying. Late at night, I entered the pantry to assemble ingredients for a peanut-butter sandwich. Flicking on the light, I espied thin, shadowy motions out of the corner of my eye. The beetle, which I laid on its back to dry, was not dead, and its upthrust legs were bending about in a most lively manner. I went howling to my folks’ room with the shout, “MOM, PAPA! THERE’S A BIG BIG BUG!”
I share this anecdote not in the pursuit of praise for sitting through Angus Silver’s erotic dramedy, Insectasy, but to land on a point: I eventually outgrew my phobia as I grew more comfortable with the billions of creepy-crawlies which inhabit our world. Sadie, a young medical receptionist, also must undergo growth and change. [Insert chrysalis metaphor here…] Of course, she begins her journey of bug-love much further down the pipeline: Insectasy‘s opening scene has her antsy to get through her boring day at work, practically bursting by the time she returns home, opens her breadbox, removes one of its jars containing a trapped insect, and then uses the small creature to aid in a frantic bout of masturbation.
This taboo behavior recurs often, and inevitably notches-up: larger bugs, deeper utilization (if you take my meaning), and so on, whilst simultaneously Sadie becomes decreasingly able to put up with the beige-bland life she otherwise finds herself trapped in. Her friend group is a hipster-flavor of tedious, the pet shop woman is both coy and snarky, and unfortunately the hunk who works nearby turns out to be something of an idiot once she actually gathers the nerve to interact with him. At one point she laments that she feels as if, in her misguided ambition to avoid pain, she has wrapped herself in a thin curtain until reaching a point where she cannot move.
Eventually her cryptic medieval-flavored fantasies—ramparts, gowns, faeries, a dying knight, all suffused in sickly bright sepiaesque glow—aren’t enough. What is she after? Can she discover who, exactly, she is? And more importantly, can she embrace this part of her self? This could have been just another self-discovery drama. Director Angus Silver and actress Tyrion Healey (who somehow manifests her Sadie character as both smoldering and staggeringly awkward) decide otherwise. This is an erotic portrait of a young woman who finds her place in the world through finding a place for her objects of desire, both within and without.
In a five-for-the-price-of-one deal, 366’s Giles Edwards walked into the green room expecting only a writer-director. Instead, he enjoyed a more thorough conversation for our bonus coverage: Craig Mitchell, of course, but also leading ladies Daniela Couso and Carol Abney, costume designer Petra Larson, and, producer Ty Donaldson. This eminent assembly gave the insight needed to approach Los Vampires from a position of safety, away from the eldritch undercurrents and battling egos of film’s vampiric duo.
AKA Zsazsa Zaturnnah vs the Amazonistas of Planet X
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DIRECTED BY: Avid Liongoren
FEATURING: Voices of Phi Palmos, Adrienne Vergara, Io Balanon, Siglo Pecho, Joelle Yuvienco
PLOT: Ada, owner of a local hair salon, has a crush on the grocer across the street and must rise to heights of heroism to defeat murderous aliens from planet Planet X.
WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: The fact that this is one of the queerest movies I’ve seen, both in the modern sense and the word’s original definition, tips my balance of judgment here. A string of silly, sexualized kaiju encounters (eggplant, anyone?) culminate in a showdown involving a cock-and-balls super weapon, so there’s certainly that, too. Zsazsa might make for a great animated sci-fi queer double feature alongside Strange Frame.
COMMENTS: Ada enjoys his quiet life, in his quiet town, working at his quiet hair salon. He enjoys, a great deal, innocently ogling Dodong from his viewpoint across the street (often falling into an inadvertent drool as the comic-book visuals morph into Steel-y pastels of hunkitude). He enjoys, somewhat less, the company of Didi, his in-your-face assistant who somehow managed to land devotedly in his employ. He enjoys, not at all, the prospect of devouring a large space rock—emblazoned with the enigmatic word, “ZATURNNAH”—at Didi’s behest; but as Didi quips, Ada has had no difficulty fitting large things into his mouth before. Open wide, gulp, fizz, blast, and behold our superhero: muscle-bound, flowing-haired, curvaceously-carressable Zsazsa!
Adapated from a comic series, and previously interpreted in live action both on screen and on stage, Zsazsa is wholly unleashed in its animated form. Avid Liongoren pushes the vibrant versatility of the medium to fabulous, fantastical heights as colors grab the eye and zippy lines whoosh us through mighty battles, culminating in a zombie horde ka-powing before the actual final showdown. That battle, against the strange forces behind the series of invasions that plague the small town, squares us off against an odd bit of commentary: a mighty queen from a far off planet who has destroyed all men and believes that Zsazsa is wholly female. There is a smirking tension in Zsazsa between misandry, misogyny, and a nebulous middle thingy. Ada is, quite firmly, a gay man, though with classically feminine tendencies, and the queen of Planet X has no experience with this.
But I risk taking things too seriously. Zsazsa bursts with Lisa Frank energy from the get-go, and the pep doesn’t let up throughout the movie. In the midst of the endless sight gags, zippy one-liners, and cartoonish combat is a message: strength comes from within, and it has nothing to do with whatever spiky space rock you may have deep-throated into yourself.
7/23: Sekiro, No Defeat
The Eyes
7/24: We’re Nothing At All
