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Capsules

CAPSULE: AN EVENING SONG (FOR THREE VOICES) (2023)

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DIRECTED BY: Graham Swon

FEATURING: , , Peter Vack

PLOT: Barbara and Richard, married writers from the East Coast, move to the Midwest and hire Martha, a quietly pious local, as their maid.

COMMENTS: One narrator evokes simple matter-of-factness; the second narrator segues into a reminiscence of another world; and the final narrator readily apologizes for what he’s about to do. These three voices in Graham Swon’s feature, An Evening Song, are its body, spirit, and mind; with the three characters—an innocent country local named Martha, the disillusioned writer-prodigy Barbara, and her mentally restless husband, Richard—conveying the film’s philosophical pull and tug. Events do literally happen in An Evening Song (indeed, it is loosely based on real events and individuals), but Swon has crafted more of a meditation oscillating around a narrative through-line than a traditional drama.

Over the course of eighty-odd minutes, Swon’s players perform the strange and gentle decline of a marriage on the rocks. Relocating to the Middle of Nowhere, Iowa, two different writerly types observe their hired help from their own perspectives. Barbara, having begun to give up on life more than a decade prior, has reached a critical stage of ennui that is only slightly alleviated by the discovery of this mysterious, scarred country girl, who seems to embody a delightfully unsolvable riddle. Richard, devoid of any bent towards mysticism, is commendably observant and empathetic, and entranced by Martha as well—but as a riddle to attempt solving. Under the couple’s gaze, Martha gazes back: she perceives Barbara’s ethereality with admiration, but also perceives Richard’s constantly ticking pragmatism with appreciation. We have here a love triangle, of sorts.

But in what way? Swon raises many questions in this film—and wanders (with purpose) down many avenues. Richard, bless his heart, accommodates to his utmost, and for all we can observe is impossible to offend, disappoint, or anger. (This is for the best, no doubt, as he has found himself dropped right in the middle of two particularly conundrous individuals.) Barbara does love Richard (maybe, probably), but longs for a life in the mystical “nowhere” reminisced throughout her narrations—which Richard cannot provide. Martha, on the other hand, does: her piety and humility raise her to ineffable heights in a dream she conveys to Barbara during a climactic, quiet encounter in a placid field, after which the story pivots and moves irrevocably toward the dissolution of Barbara’s will to remain on this plane of existence.

The song continues, narrations bump up against one another and fuse, with all three becoming harmoniously concurrent during a contemplative, sleepless night-and-day meshing of perspectives. This film is no Eraserhead, to be certain; but it is a curious experience. With full marks for dreamy ethereality, Swon’s pocket-sized meditation manages a tension from its competing and complementary voices, creating something nearly imperceptible, maybe close to a nothing, but which lingers in the mind like a mystifying apparition.

An Evening Song (for Three Voices) completed a short run in New York last week and will play at the Acropolis in Los Angeles for one night only, May 29. We’ll let you know when it’s available online.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“Stylistically, Swon’s film shares an aesthetic kinship with some of Guy Maddin’s films, but it is far less accessible… The ambition and craftsmanship are laudable, but the hallucinatory haze too often produces a sensation of narrative drift. Recommended with the above caveats for experienced patrons of unconventional cinema” — Joe Bendel, J.B. Spins (contemporaneous)

List Candidates

FANTASIA 2024: APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: INFINITE SUMMER (2024)

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DIRECTED BY: Miguel Llansó

FEATURING: Teele Kaljuvee-O’Brock, Johanna Rosin, , Ciaron Davies

PLOT: Mia, an anthropology student partying with her friends for one last summer, finds her revels sabotaged by the mysterious and powerful mood app, “Eleusis.”

Still from Infinite Summer (2024)

WHY IT MIGHT MAKE THE APOCRYPHA: Though not as dingbat nutso as Jesus Shows You the Way to the Highway, Llansó’s latest film examines the promise and dangers of technology with plenty of pizzazz, paranormality, and purple gasses.

COMMENTS: Had someone like Ray Bradbury written this, its title could well have been The New Zoo Will Be Free from Suffering. Miguel Llansó, however, has more of a playful—and optimistic—streak than many science fiction writers. His new film is grounded in a realistic here and now, and indeed its opening act plays like a simple coming of age story about three young woman who have just graduated. But as the filmmaker says, “I am no psychologist,” and his deeply rooted bent toward the techno-fantastic quickly rears its head, sending his protagonists and the viewer on a strange and sinister ride through a purple cloud of menace.

This menace (or promise?) is dubbed “Eleusis.” As explained by its chirpy, casual AI guide, it claims to be a guided meditation app. Doctor Mindfulness, who probably isn’t an actual doctor, brings this questionable product—the program’s delivery system is a vapor-cartridge loaded in breathing mask—to Mia and her buddies, who are rightly hesitant about trusting some sketchy beardo they meet on the  “Extreme Dating” VR app. Doctor Mindfulness’ insistence overcomes Mia’s trepidation, and the next thing we know, Mia gives Eleusis a try, and begins exploring the possibilities of the purple dust vortex projected in the aether. Her friends overcome their hesitation, too, and under the guidance of the good “doctor,” push the tech to its meditative, orgasmic extremes. Then events take a turn for the worse.

Seeing as we’re watching a speculative science fiction film, it’s reasonable to guess that the changes and effects from a nebulous nebula aren’t going to be good; but seeing as we’re watching a Llansó film, it’s also reasonable to guess that things are going to get a bit wild. Having emphasized the color scheme, I won’t be giving too much away when I say this movie makes mention of the pineal gland, which is stimulated to both summon Eleusis from beyond, and suck in the app users when they reach a certain level of “transcendence.” Eleusis is disarming, with a bubbly feminine voice, often ending its sentences with a reassuring “yo!” to emphasize how hip and harmless it is. It’s a fascinating creature, with a mesmerizing interface—and also a deep cave of lightning and purple that may hold the answers Mia seeks after her friends begin changing.

A compelling character roster fleshes out Llansó’s probe into this theoretical. Mia’s father is an easy-going artist, with his authority tempered by his insecurities. Doctor Mindfulness hits all the notes for a techno-optimist, following the instructions of Eleusis without question. And a pair of Interpol agents add an eccentric buddy-cop element: one of them is both always late, and always eating the other’s food. Infinite Summer has much to offer, much of it in a purple haze. In Mia, Llansó captures our obsession with the past; in the hungry Interpol agent, he captures our enchainment to the present; and in Eleusis, he imagines a future gathering place, between reality and the void: a new zoo, which will be free from some suffering.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“Infinite Summer distinguishes itself with a mesmerizing soundtrack and meticulously crafted visual effects that heighten the surreal atmosphere of the narrative.” – Chris Jones, Overly Honest Reviews (festival screening)

Capsules

CAPSULE: DISAPPEARANCE AT CLIFTON HILL (2019)

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DIRECTED BY: Albert Shin

FEATURING: , , Eric Johnson,

PLOT: Returning home to Niagara Falls after her mother’s death, a woman remembers a childhood incident that haunted her—witnessing a one-eyed boy being abducted in the woods—and decides to investigate.

Still from Disappearance at Clifton Hill (2019)

COMMENTS: Clifton Hill is a tourist trap street in Niagara Falls, Canada. Although a memorable scene in Disappearance at Clifton Hill occurs at Clifton Hill, the titular disappearance doesn’t occur there. Make of that bit of misdirection what you will.

The disappearance we’re concerned with occurs upriver, and about twenty-five years before Abby returns to Niagara Falls after her mother’s death. Abby wants to preserve Rainbow Inn, the old family business which has fallen into disrepair, from being bought up by the Charles Lake corporation; her sister wants to sell and move on with life. Browsing through mom’s old photographs turns up a picture that sparks Abby’s memory of the day she saw the boy abducted, and she begins investigating. Her followups bring her into contact with a podcaster and local historian who operates out of a UFO-shaped cafe and who knows where the bodies aren’t buried, a husband and wife magic act modeled on Siegfried and Roy, and the dashing Charles Lake III. Evidence of what might have happened to the boy builds slowly, while a series of glitchy, tiger-infected dreams that look like bad montages edited on third-generation VHS tapes liven things up (and provide the film’s sole weird moments).

The ultimate mystery has as much to do with Abby’s past, slowly revealed through her interactions with her sister and others, as it does with the disappearance she’s investigating. Abby’s backstory isn’t a twist, exactly; it’s more of a change of focus that turns Disappearance from a thriller into a character study. The movie’s eventual revelations about Abby do, however, illuminate a couple of incidents that might not have made complete sense otherwise (for example, why Abby’s parents never contacted the police after the incident in the woods). The switch of emphasis works; the script slowly (and purposefully) undermines its own narrative.

Full of psychological unease rather than jump scares, Clifton Hill plays well within its budget. Superior writing elevates it from merely a “modest thriller” to a “modest-but-clever thriller.” An ace performance from lead Tuppence Middleton carries the film, aided by an unnerving woodwind and synth score.

In some quarters, much is being made of David Cronenberg‘s small role as a podcaster (first seen in a wetsuit). While Old Croney holds his own against the more established actors, there’s nothing revelatory in his performance. The significance of his presence has more to do with his endorsement of the film, which is a major marketing point for a not-flashy indie that relies on a slow-burn to pull you in.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“Shin isn’t shy about laying on quirky details and liberal oddball splashes to make his third film swing from bizarrely entertaining  to dark (helped by an excellent moody score from instrumental group BadBadNotGood).”–Linda Barnard, Original Cin (contemporaneous)

Disappearance At Clifton Hill [DVD] [2020]

Disappearance At Clifton Hill [DVD] [2020]
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