ScreenFish

where faith and film are intertwined

Christopher Abbott

The World to Come: Isolation that Binds

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I don’t find it surprising that I’ve watched this film as we hit the year mark of when the world shut down. Suddenly, we all were thrust into immediate isolation within our homes – away from our jobs, families, social circles, etc. – in a time of crisis, fear, and unpredictability. Suddenly, people around us were dying in droves.

Suddenly, our best laid plans were wiped away.

So the relevance of The World to Come is not lost on me. This film about isolation, grief, and the absolutely necessity of human connection is a poignant insight into how we are wired. In a lot of ways, it reminded me of 2012’s post-apocalyptic film The Wall from director Julian Pölsler. From the first-person narrative structured in short bursts to the graininess of the landscape and the sheer sense of desperation from a harsh and unforgiving land, both of these films highlight the lengths we will go through to find meaningful connection. But, in this case, The World to Come takes place in 19th century America when land was plentiful, neighbors were few, and grief was an ever present companion.

I’ve read mixed reviews that tend to focus on the slow pace, the heaviness of Abigail’s (Katherine Waterston) melancholy and hopelessness, the trope of forbidden frontier love, and even “leftist” ideology in the form of this woman and woman romance. And I disagree with all of them.

Isolation is debilitating. Grief is haunting. While Abigail’s and Dyer’s (Casey Affleck) marriage has brief flickers of sun, they are irrevocably changed by the death of their young daughter. And that impact, while it may morph, never goes away. Even when spirited Tallie (Vanessa Kirby) turns Abigail’s mournful world upside down, the longing for the world she lost never disappears. Instead, Tallie’s empathy and affection provides the opportunity to escape across stolen moments, and in each other they fill pieces of the voids buried deep in their souls.

How this film from Mona Fastvold could be anything other than it was is not even a question for me. Every moment felt intentional and thoughtful. Despite the outward brightness and outgoing demeanor of Kirby’s Tallie, I could never take my eyes off Waterston’s Abigail. Her humble posture, internal longing for a shred of hope, and her manner of speaking touched me. It was all heartbreakingly beautiful from start to finish.

Perhaps it is because I am more aware (than ever before) on the importance of connection. Perhaps it is because Abigail’s and Dyer’s young daughter reminded me so much of my own (who is very much healthy and well). Perhaps it is because long ago I experienced a grief that I thought would never fade. Whatever it is, I feel connected to this story. I do not fault Abigail. I do not fault Dyer. I do not fault Tallie. All of them were searching for something elusive and transcendent – something that as whole, they couldn’t quite piece together. But it didn’t stop them from trying. And it shouldn’t stop us, either.

The World to Come is available on VOD on March 2nd, 2021

Black Bear: The Roar of Infidelity

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Though taking place within the same location and cast, Black Bear tells two distinct yet thematically linked narratives. In the first portion, the film follows Blair (Sarah Gadon) and Gabe (Christopher Abbott), a married couple who welcome Allison (Aubrey Plaza) into their home for the weekend. Temporarily renting a room online in their lakehouse, Allison inadvertently ignites a powder keg of mistrust between the couple and her quiet weekend spins out of control. In the second tale, Gabe (Abbott again) is a filmmaker and married to Allison (Plaza). When their project nears completion, Allison begins to suspect that her husband is having an affair with her co-star, Blair (Gadon).

Written and directed by Lawrence Michael Levine, Black Bear is a fascinating piece that becomes one of the more unique film experiences of 2020. By juxtaposing the two parallel but twisted tales against one another, Levine creates a sort of warped mirror experience where both films interact with one another without actually connecting. In doing so, Levine also somehow gives both projects more meaning as they play with the concepts of obsession, infidelity and toxic gender issues. 

However, despite its distinctive style, it’s ultimately the performances within the film that give Black Bear its teeth, especially from stars Gadon and Plaza. As both women are challenged with taking on the roles of faithful wife and potential paramour, each finds their own way to engage the material. Continuing to build up a solid body of work, Gadon may be one of the more underappreciated stars working in the industry today as she consistently invests herself in each role with focus and intensity. At the same time, Plaza’s work here may be some of the best work of her career. While Plaza is best known for her comedic work, it’s moments like this that showcase her ability to bring dramatic integrity to her work when given the opportunity.

Held up against one another, the two films fascinate for their ability to flip the relationship roles and responsibilities of everyone involved. Though both segments include marital infidelity, the journey towards that unfaithfulness is clearly marked well in advance. As humility and authentic care towards one another gives way to a battle for control, the carnage that ensues is not surprising. In both pieces, insecurities about themselves and their successes (and failures) lead characters to lose faith in their partner and intentionally drive wedges within their relationships.

Whereas the first half showcases the increasing [and almost forced] distance that occurs when trust is lost between partners, the latter portion demonstrates the damage that can be done when that trust is abused. In Black Bear, love is a cruel game where those involved feel threatened by traditional gender roles yet also yearn for signs of mutual respect and support. (Interestingly, while Levine’s primary metaphor within the first half seems to be the desire to create a perfect relationship, the second half focuses more on the creation of a perfect film, drawing a connection between authentic connection between people and simply creating a performance.)

While it could be argued that the film’s two distinct portions prevent Black Bear from ever fully delving into its characters or story, that would do the film a disservice. Through his creative use of mirrored storytelling, Levine provides Black Bear with a richer sense of texture that highlights the cracks and flaws that appear when relationships become self-serving in nature.

To hear our interview with director Lawrence Michael Levine, click here.

Black Bear is available in select theatres and on PVOD on Friday, December 4th, 2020.

Bloody Battle for the Self: 1on1 with Brandon Cronenberg (POSSESSOR)

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Brandon Cronenberg is no stranger to a bloody mess.

As the director of Antiviral and son of one of the pioneers of body horror films, Cronenberg is more than comfortable wading through rivers of blood in order to investigate deeper ideas about the human experience. As visceral as it is mesmerizing, Cronenberg’s latest film, Possessor, is another violent exploration of mankind’s psychology that isn’t afraid to attack the senses. 

From a purely sensory perspective, the film’s violence—while graphic—looks great onscreen and a key part of that process is the cocktail used to depict the film’s blood. While Cronenberg isn’t sure what made up the mixture specifically, he appreciates the amazing work done by his visual effects team.

“The blood was spectacular and I can’t tell you too much about it because it was actually a secret recipe,” he beams. “I don’t know what it was. We had this fantastic effects artists, Dan Martin, and he’s responsible for so much of the wonderful practical trickery. He had some contacts who had this incredible formula for this very advanced kind of fake blood, which looks amazing. It actually coagulates like real blood and then washes off anything incredibly easily… I don’t even know if he knows what’s in it because it’s someone’s secret formula.”

More importantly, however, Possessor is yet another complex mindtrip from the young filmmaker that uses sci-fi elements to challenge our ideas about who we are. Written and directed by Cronenberg, Possessor follows Tasya Vos (Andrea Riseborough), a corporate assassin who allows her consciousness downloaded into the minds of others so that can commit murders for the benefit of the company. Tasya has a special gift for her craft. However, with each host that she inhabits, Tasya becomes increasingly broken by her experiences, leading to violent memories and urges that she must suppress in her ‘real’ life. When she accepts a mission to kill the head of a major corporation (Sean Bean), her host Colin (Christopher Abbott) begins to fight back against his unknown mental assailant, causing Tasya to lose control and potentially remain trapped in a prison of his consciousness.

Using Tasya as a key example, Possessor highlights our struggle to know who we are in an age where the nature of identity is increasingly difficult to pin down. Though his characters slip in and out of the bodies of others, Cronenberg believes that, ultimately, our identity cannot be separated from our physical selves.

“I don’t really think there’s a difference between mind and body,” he explains. “I think it’s all the same. I think the mind is really a process of the brain and you can’t really disconnect the two. Even though in the film, it plays it a little bit like that through the science fiction because she’s, in a sense, inhabiting other people’s bodies remotely, that’s more of a metaphorical thing to discuss identity. In reality, I don’t think those can be really separated.”  

Cronenberg goes on to explain that he believes that most people are simply presenting themselves for the benefit of others, rather than honestly depicting their true self.

“Ultimately, I don’t really think we have a true self…,” he points out. “I think it’s all to a certain degree performance. Sometimes we’re performing for other people, sometimes we’re performing for ourselves. So definitely there is an interesting–and I would say common–experience of being in a particular situation or trying to accomplish something and not being able to see yourself in it somehow because it’s at odds with your identity, whether it’s imposter syndrome or it’s just that disconnect between our own self-image and how other people see us.”

One of the more fascinating aspects of Possessor is its willingness to engage the notion of personal responsibility. While characters commit acts of violence, they are certainly not of their own free will but they must still face the consequences. With this in mind, Cronenberg says that he believes the notion of culpability is far more complicated than we like to think.

“One of the things that I keep coming back to what I’m writing… is the process by which we construct a sense of unified self, despite the fact that that doesn’t really exist,” he contends. “I think a human being is a chorus of conflicting impulses and ideas and emotions. Some of those come from our own brains, some of them don’t. There’s a very interesting science being done examining, for instance, human microbiomes and how other microorganisms in our digestive tract or parasites can affect our personality and affect our behaviors. Of course, in a more figurative sense, there’s the question of maybe what you could call psychological infections, how we pick up ideas from other people and claim them for ourselves. That’s especially interesting and kind of terrifying right now, [especially] when you look at what’s happening on social media and, for instance, foreign states meddling in the US elections. We are, in a sense, hackable now because we’re so completely online, but I don’t think we really yet understand what human society is becoming because of that. A lot of people believe that they have certain ideas that they’ve generated themselves, but they’re actually being manipulated in fairly nuanced ways online.” 

As a result of his research, Cronenberg also discovered some fascinating studies into brain functions and how they drive our actions and responses.

“I did some research into the neuroscience behind brain control,” he continues. “One of the things that I found was a Spanish doctor named Jose Delgado [who] had done some experiments in the United States involving brain implants in animals and human beings. There is a scene in the film where a kind of documentary plays on the television. There’s this bull fight and the bull has been implanted with this receiver. That’s actually footage from one of his experiments… The spot in the brain that he put this wire was stimulating different areas of the brain electrically and, because of where that wire was, the subject was acting in response to the stimulation but then claiming those actions for themselves. So, for instance, every time the experimenter pressed the button, the subject would get up from his chair, walk in a circle and then sit back down again. But every time he did that, he would insist that he had done it of his own free will. He [thought that] he was just looking for shoes or that he had heard a noise somewhere and was going to investigate. So, I think there’s a very interesting process of the brain by which we, in a sense, determine after the fact whether an idea or an action was generated internally. I think has fascinating scientific and philosophical implications.“

Given Possessor’s narrative complexity, Cronenberg enjoys the fact that there are any number of readings to the film’s meaning. One such alternative view is that the film’s subtext is that Tasya’s violent nature suggests an inner tension as she attempts to balance her career and family. To Cronenberg, this aspect of her character speaks primarily about the disconnect between her more animal impulses and the expectations of her domestic life.

“To me, the career aspect of it is maybe a part of a broader struggle that we have again with how internally we see ourselves, but also, on a certain level, we’re all apes living these animal lives but in this strange civilization that we’ve built for ourselves. So, I think who we are internally is very chaotic and animal and then who we are as a result of civilized society is somehow very restrained. I feel like there’s often a disconnect between what’s expected of us and this kind of inner turmoil that we deal with. That’s certainly true in the professional sense… I wanted to comment to some degree on how all of us are dealing with that specific. In Tasya’s case, [it’s] a very pronounced disconnect because she has this sense of violence in her and these impulses which are still at odds with what’s expected of her in this civilized domestic setting. In many ways, that is more horrific to her than the violence.” 

Violence is key within Possessor, not only because of its graphic visuals but also because it becomes an external representation of the inner turmoil that Tasya’s character experiences throughout the film. 

“Her relationship with violence is very much at the heart of her character so the violence in the film is really very much narrative. I felt it had to be a visceral,” notes Cronenberg. “People had to feel on a sort of almost bodily level what she was experiencing emotionally and it also tracks what’s her psychology. So, sometimes you’re seeing it from a more observational perspective and then looking back on it and it’s this more sort of stylized, almost fetishistic thing, for her. I don’t want to go too far in analyzing the characters because… the narrative arc [was] designed to leave a little space for various interpretations from the audience… but certainly I was thinking of her in some sense like one of those drone pilots who experiences PTSD because of the violence that they’re engaged in even though they’re engaged in it remotely. Yet at the same time, there’s something in her character that’s very much drawn to it. I think it’s a bit of a question whether that’s something inherent to her or whether that’s something that’s being planted in her character by her mentor figure and by the corporation.” 

Possessor is now playing in theatres.

Possessor: Plagued by our Shifting Selves

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“Pull me out.”

Such is the plea of Tasya Vos (Andrea Riseborough), a corporate assassin who allows her consciousness downloaded into the minds of others so that can commit murders for the benefit of the company. As the focus of Brandon Cronenberg’s latest sci-fi horror Possessor, Vasya has a special gift for her craft. However, with each host that she inhabits, Vasya becomes increasingly broken by her experiences, leading to violent memories and urges that she must suppress in her ‘real’ life. When she accepts a mission to kill the head of a major corporation (Sean Bean), her host Colin (Christopher Abbott) begins to fight back against his unknown mental assailant, causing Tasya to lose control and potentially remain trapped in a prison of his consciousness.

Possessor is a visceral and unsettling sci-fi horror that explores what it means to suppress our darkest urges. While the cast does an excellent job encapsulating Cronenberg’s vision (Seriously, when has Andrea Riseborough ever left a role wanting?), the real story to Possessor is Cronenberg himself.  Featuring complex characters and stunning (and often disturbing) visuals, Cronenberg continues to show maturity behind the camera.  With each long take and slow pan, his slow-burning lens becomes a predator, carefully stalking its prey with an almost soothing intensity. Then, in times of violence, Cronenberg goes the opposite direction, forcing the viewer to watch the unflinching horror that sits in front of them. At the same time, his use of bleeding and blinding colour palette paints a primeval portrait of the inner tensions of Tasya’s victims that blurs the lines of reality. In doing so, Cronenberg’s use of colour and camera almost become visual narrators, not only providing a backdrop for the story but plunging the viewer within it.

With this in mind, Possessor provides Cronenberg the opportunity to explore the fragile nature of identity in a world where we can become anyone in a digital space. As Tasya moves in and out of her hosts, she must fully immerse herself in their world. Not unlike the digital identities that we inhabit on a daily basis, Tasya’s experiences allow her to explore the lives of her psychological victims. However, she also loses a piece of her soul in the process. As a result, though she is hardly in love with her work, neither can she fully separate herself from it either. With each mission, the damage that she has caused continues to take a toll on her. 

Plagued by violent memories, her experiences in the minds of others cause Tasya to struggles to understand what it means to be fully human (or fully herself) anymore. While her husband and son welcome her home, her family brings her little joy. Violence has become her vice and she uses it to feel alive. To Vasya, the ‘jobs’ have become opportunities to experience closer personal connections in the midst of a disconnect—and gruesome—life. (One particular example of this comes when, after a particularly brutal mission, Vasya is asked why she used a knife to kill her victim, as opposed to the recommended gun.) In this way, Cronenberg’s view of identity focuses less on how we mature and grow from experiences but rather the perils of losing ourselves in the process and the damage that we may leave in our wake.

Though terrifying in its brutality, Possessor is far more than another example of graphic body horror. Never one to shy away from complex issues, Cronenberg again is willing to explore the instability of the mind at a time when we consistently put on social masks. By following Vasya’s psychological descent, Possessor reveals what can happen when the foundations our identities are shaken by taking on the roles of others. 

Possessor is available on VOD and in theatres now.

Katie Says Goodbye – More than a Victim

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“Thank you for this day, Daddy. I hope I lived right and if I see you one day that I make you proud.”

I first saw Katie Says Goodbye at the 2017 Newport Beach Film Festival, where I ranked it among my favorites. The film won jury awards for Best Actress (Olivia Cooke) and Best Screenplay (Wayne Roberts, who also directed). Now it has found its way to select theaters and to VOD.

Katie (Cooke) is a waitress in a small Arizona town that is little more than a trailer park and diner. She is constantly happy even though her circumstances are less than ideal. Her mother Tracey (Mireille Enos) is unemployed, and does nothing but watch TV all day. Her mother squanders the rent money, constantly leaving Katie to deal with it. Katie’s dream is to go to San Francisco and become a beautician. She is saving money that she makes by prostituting herself with some regulars, including Bear (Jim Belushi), a truck driver who stops on his way through. Bear is kind and fairly paternal towards Katie. Katie is also mentored in life by the owner of the diner, Maybelle (Mary Steenburgen), who is far more of a mother to Katie than Tracey is.

When Bruno (Christopher Abbott), a new mechanic with a shady past comes to town, Katie is smitten. Bruno never smiles, but Katie is willing to smile enough for both of them. As they spend time together, Katie blossoms. But when Bruno discovers her prostitution, he is upset and demands she stop, which she does. However, there are others who demand more from her.

For all Katie’s rose-colored view of the world, things soon become darker as Tracey continues to take advantage of her, Bruno’s coworkers treat her badly, and another waitress at the diner frames Katie for theft. As her world begins to crash around her, Katie faces losing everything. Her smile disappears.

One criticism that some (but not me) might raise is that Katie is too much a victim. Her innocent (some might say naïve) approach to the world sets her up to be used and abused by those around her. And she never fights for herself. And when others do wrong, she is willing to silently assume the guilt. In a “Me Too” world, Katie could seem to be the poster-child for women accepting exploitation.

The reason I do not bring such a charge is that I see in Katie a similarity to the Servant of Isaiah 42-53. I think the film invites us to open ourselves to see more than just Katie’s victimhood. Each night as Katie goes to bed, she speaks to the father she has never met, with the quote I opened this review with. It is only a small leap to think of this as a prayer. How then does this filter our understanding of Katie?

Consider some of these descriptions of the Servant (all scriptures quoted from NRSV): “A bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench (Isaiah 42:3); “I gave my back to those who struck me, and my cheeks to those who pulled out my beard. I did not hide my face from insult and spitting.” (50:6), and “He was despised and rejected by others; a man of suffering and acquainted with infirmity; and as one from whom others hide their faces he was despised, and we held him of no account…. But he was wounded for our transgression, crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the punishment that made us whole, and by his bruises we are healed…. He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; like a lamb that is led to slaughter and like a sheep that before the shearer is dumb, so he did not open his mouth.” (53:3-7 passim).

Of course, this picture is familiar to Christians because the early church quickly came to see Jesus’ sacrifice in its light. But there is more to the Servant than just the suffering he underwent. It is important to note that the Servant Song found in Isaiah 50, even as the Servant recounts the suffering he has undergone, is not a song of lament, but rather a psalm of confidence. He says, “The Lord God helps me; therefore I have not been disgraced; therefore I have set my face like flint, and I know that I shall not be put to shame; he who vindicates me is near” (50:7). Such is the realization that Katie finally comes to at her darkest moments. That allows her to move on to a new life with hope that others might find Pollyannaish, but that certainly resonates with the Servant of Isaiah, and by extension, with Christ.

Photos courtesy of Vertical Entertainment