“Everything’s fine. Go to work. Get the promotion. It’s all good.”
Taken from The Invisibles, this is the sort of mantra that follows many people who struggle with trauma. When we’re sitting in our hurt, it’s also the time when we want to escape it. After all, living out the monotony of our days matters, right? Or does it?
The Invisibles tells the story of Charlie (Tim Blake Nelson), a husband who is struggling through life. With his marriage on the brink and his job feeling tedious, Charlie simply wants to disappear. Until he gets his wish. As Charlie begins to fade from existence (and memory), he slides into a world of warmth and acceptance where people are glad to see him and he is told that he matters. But, as he continues down the road, Charlie begins to wonder if his world is worth giving up and what the cost would be if he did so.
Written and directed by Andrew Currie, The Invisibles is a quiet and reflective film that sits with its characters in the midst of their grief. Featuring an insightful script and strong performances, this is a fable that always feels grounded in personal experiences.
Though, admittedly, it’s Nelson who keeps the film together. As Charlie, Nelson feels present in every scene. Over the years, Nelson has proven himself to be adept at blending genres. Generally affable, he has the ability to make you laugh and cry with a simple glare. Although, unlike his other roles, there’s something particularly noteworthy about his performance here as other characters are called on to ignore him entirely. In multiple scenes, Nelson is called to act with his co-stars while they care blank stares. In doing so, the isolation for his character continues to build but, as an actor, that had to be a difficult experience as well.
With this in mind, The Invisibles is one of those films that simply feels personal. Even in the film’s wildest of moments, there’s a certain sense of authenticity within Charlie’s inquest into the nature of suffering. While I would never claim to know Currie’s personal history, every self-denial and question seems to stem from experience. There’s simply something universal about these conversations that hits different. Charlie’s journey into the abyss of denial remains his own, yet the people he encounters along the way have their own personal demons that broaden the conversation. In this way, Currie keeps the space for discourse open, highlighting the innumerable ways that people can experience deep hurt. (In fact, having experienced the traumas of loss and grief in our own family, I could personally relate to many of the feelings expressed within Charlie as he attempts to claw his way back to emotional stability.) In essence, the imagery within Invisibles may, at times, be strange, but the feelings are real.
Visually, Currie purposefully uses his colour scheme to bridge this divide between worlds. When he’s within the real world, he keeps colours cool. Using mostly neutral colours, we are meant to feel a slight chill within these scenes as characters attempt to stumble through a world that cares little for their personal preferences. However, in the world of denial, Currie bathes the screen with warm tones. Here, we are meant to experience a space as though it were inviting. People care about one another and trauma is far away. In short, this is a place where dreams come true. It’s a wonderful place to visit.
But we are not meant to want to stay there.
Though the dream world is alluring, Currie wants the audience to feel ill at ease. One may be free from trauma but something about this space feels inauthentic. It’s as though the film wants us to realize that there’s something necessary about experiencing painful struggles within our lives. But this is not meant to glorify trauma. Instead, it’s merely the recognition that a life without suffering is impossible. Without giving any spoilers, Charlie’s life is one of trauma, yes. But so too is it also meant to be one of joy. For Charlie, the fear of feeling the depth of his loss causes him to retreat. But, in doing so, he also closes himself off to the potential for genuine love and connection.
There’s something profound about this level of discourse on a topic such as grief. While Currie’s film may get lost in the shuffle of studio fare, it remains a sharp and incisive project that is designed to help start conversations. More importantly though, it’s designed to help start a process of healing for those bearing emotional scars. In The Invisibles, hurt is felt deeply but it also allows the shadows to crack with the seeds of hopefulness and humour.
Therein lies the beauty of The Invisibles. Currie ensures that Charlie’s dalliance with another dimension never truly wants to stay in the darkness, even if its characters do. To them, “everything [may seem] fine” but we want more for them but they have to want to claw their way out on their own to find it. Whether or not that’s possible for these characters, remains to be seen.
Invisibles is available in theatres on Friday, September 20th, 2024.
