ScreenFish

where faith and film are intertwined

Forrest Goodluck

I Used to Go Here: Starting Over Where You Were

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Written and directed by Kris Rey, I Used to Go Here tells the story of Kate Conklin (Jacobs), a young author about to release her debut novel. When her book receives less-than-stellar reviews, Kate is hurt and frustrated by the response. After she receives an invitation from her former professor and old crush, David (Clement), to speak at her alma mater, Kate jumps at the chance return to her old college as a published author. However, as she revisits her past haunts and relationships, she soon begins to slide back into her old life as a student with all its misadventures and misplaced feelings for her former professor.

Entertaining and earnest, Go Here is a fun coming-of-[middle] age comedy that looks at what happens when the dreams of our youth never truly meet reality. The latest film produced by Lonely Island, Go Here continues to develop their brand as having an eye for comedy that never loses the honesty and soul underneath. While the film features an enjoyable cast of newcomers (Long live Tall Brandon!), it’s veterans Gillian Jacobs and Jermaine Clement that truly anchor the piece. A veteran of notable comedies like Community and Netflix’s Love, Jacobs continues to bring an affability to her characters that also shows inner courage and strength. In Go Here, her talents are offset beautifully by Clement’s David, a professor who is struggling with his own sense of self-worth and stability as well. 

Held up as both mirror images and polar opposites of one another, David and Kate are both weighed down by the decisions they’ve made in their lives and the regrets they carry. While David fades away in a fractured marriage, Kate struggles with the compromises that she has made within her writing in order to get published. However, whereas David seems trapped within the outcomes of his life choices, Kate’s heart years to rediscover the youthful passion for life that she once held before the ‘reality’ of adulthood set in. (“Life is not like school. It’s not a safe place to try things out,” she exclaims, frustrated.) Though far from immature herself, Kate’s return home stirs an attraction to the innocence that she felt as a college student. 

Yet, in this film, nostalgia can only take you so far. 

Though visiting the past can be life-giving, Go Here also recognizes that remaining there can be toxic as well. Having moved on with her life, Kate’s return home may offer some sense of renewal and refreshing but she herself doesn’t quite fit in anymore. The draw to step into her old life seems appealing on the surface but she remains hesitant. (In fact, even the title of the film itself suggests the value of being one who has moved on.) To Kate, old friends and sites are welcoming as she looks towards the next chapter of her life, yet she still struggles to find a future there. 

After all, she has changed, even if her hometown has not. 

As such, at its core, I Used to Go Here points to the idea that hope may lie in the future, even if some form of refreshment lies within the past. Filled with heart and humour, there’s an indelible charm within the Rey’s script that keeps the film engaging throughout. Embedded with a mature youthfulness, Go Here speaks to what it means to rediscover what we have by taking a look at what we had.

Even if we can’t really go home again.

To hear our interview with star Jemaine Clement, click here.

I Used to Go Here premieres on VOD on August 7th, 2020.

Blood Quantum: Shedding History’s Blood

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In Blood Quantum, things begin to spiral out of control on the isolated Mi’gMaq reserve of Red Crow when an unseen virus begins to turn the locals into blood-thirsty zombies. As the dead begin to come back to life, the Indigenous inhabitants discover that they are strangely immune to the plague and are forced to care for those in the area who are desperately seeking sanctuary themselves.

Directed by Jeff Barnaby, Quantum takes the all-too-familiar zombie genre and somehow makes it feel fresh and engaging. While the structure follows the necessary zombie tropes, the setting and its unique voice breathe new life into the film. By framing the narrative through the lens of the Indigenous people, Barnaby’s vision balances blood and carnage with social commentary, making the film both fun and thought-provoking at the same time. Led by an especially strong performance by Michael Greyeyes as the courageous but emotionally broken Traylor, Quantum’s solid casting helps the story feel more personal as opposed to simply another horror epic. However, the struggle within Quantum runs much deeper than a fight against the killer virus. Along with the blood and guts, the battle within Quantum also reaches to the heart of a culture that speaks at a historical level. 

More specifically, while Quantum definitely entertains, the film allows Barnaby to explore tensions between Indigenous people and the white community. As the virus begins to spread throughout Red Crow, the fight for survive begins to also expose the underlying racial tensions that run throughout the community. (Incidentally, the film’s title refers to a colonial blood measurement system that is used to determine the validity of one’s aboriginal status.) As such, while some Mi’gMaq are willing to see potential for the cultures to build a new future together, there are others who remain entrenched in their hatred. While the walls literally keep those infected at bay, they also serve as a visual metaphor for the self-protection of a people that have been taken advantage of over the years. While white families are invited inside the compound, they are met with a suspicious eye, both as a potential carrier of the virus but also because of past experiences. As a result, Quantum highlights the struggle to build something new when history remains such an obstacle. 

Questions of what it means to tear down painful barriers and begin again are often painful and, thankfully, Quantum is willing to explore the impact of such decisions. Who can be trusted when history has shown us others have not been trustworthy before? Can forgiveness break through in an effort to move forward? What does it mean to celebrate our differences but come together as one? Even though it’s not  uncommon for horror films to delve into social commentary, it’s questions such as these that help give Quantum its unique voice and soul. 

While the zombie genre may have been mined frequently, thankfully Barnaby is able to breathe fresh air into his horror epic through his passion to explore new ground. Strong performances, a solid script and poignant direction give the film its unique voice and, as a result, Blood Quantum definitely rises above the [zombie] herd.

To hear audio of our conversation with Jeff Barnaby, click here.

Blood Quantum brings the carnage to VOD on Tuesday, April 28th, 2020.

The Miseducation of Cameron Post: Outside, Looking In

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“I’m not being a good friend if I ignore your sin.”

Written and directed by Desiree Akhavan, The Miseducation of Cameron Post takes place in the early 90s and follows the titular character (Chloe Grace Moretz) after she is sent to a remote treatment center for those dealing with same-sex attraction. Entitled God’s Promise, the center is run by the strict Dr. Lydia Marsh (Jennifer Ehle) and her brother, Reverend Rick (John Gallagher Jr) who seek to ‘help’ the teens be free from their ‘immoral thoughts’. While she is being subjected to questionable gay conversion therapies, Cameron bonds with her fellow residents as they pretend to go along with the process while waiting to be released.

Based on the book of the same name by Emily M. Danforth, Miseducation’s strongest asset is its cast, especially Moretz, who continues to prove herself as one of Hollywood’s strongest young talents. With much of the film riding on her shoulders—she’s central in almost every scene—Moretz plays Cameron with a mix of confidence and confusion as she seeks to navigate her new surroundings. Strong supporting performances from her peer group of Jane Fonda (Sasha Lane) and Adam Red Eagle (Forrest Goodluck) bring stability to the film by providing Cameron the home and security that she so desperately lacks.

The most terrifying aspect of Miseducation is how ordinary it feels. Although Dr. Marsh is portrayed as incredibly severe (even refusing to refer to Cameron as ‘Cam’ for fear it might cause more gender confusion), God’s Promise does not appear to be a house of horrors on the surface. The facilities are well kept and the residents have freedom to hike outdoors. Reverend Rick proves himself to be earnest and appears to genuinely care about the teens in his care. However, with each ‘counselling session’, the audience becomes increasingly aware of the emotional abuse that is taking place by attempting to convince the children of their sinfulness and need to change their lives. (As they are told repeatedly, “what lies under their iceberg” determines how they think.) In other words, at God’s Promise, righteousness is the fuel of wrath and grace is offered only through condescension. It’s a scathing—but frequently true—review of the church’s history of attempting to separate ‘the sinner and the sin’, a practice that ends up stealing a piece of their soul in the process. (Incidentally, as a pastor, I can’t help but be broken by the ignorance and arrogance inherent to this sort of spiritual abuse.)

In Miseducation, love is conditional. Whether it’s the love of God or from their families, these characters have felt the harsh reality of unacceptance and have only experience grace as the carrot on a stick. Somewhat ironically, genuine community is only felt when their brokenness becomes what also draws them together. Fear and oppression becomes shared pain and opens the door for healing. When abandoned by the church, the residents of God’s Promise need to look to one another to find hope.

And the harshest reality is that it isn’t entirely fictional.

 

The Miseducation of Cameron Post is in theaters now.