Who says indie filmmaking doesn't deliver the goods? Keep your eyes on this team-they're going places.
Kelsey Taylor & her team (9 crew members, she told us at a screening), under extremely tight budgetary constraints, took her deconstructionist retelling of the Riding Hood tale and crafted what might easily have become a hackneyed feminist diatribe into a sharply focused examination of real lives undergoing excruciating emotional torment while engaged in life-altering power dynamics.
The performances she has drawn from her cast (she said she has worked with them before, and it shows) demonstrate that she has a clear understanding of what makes people tick when the chips are down.
The film's plot points are segmented by titles harkening to the old tale, but honestly they were unnecessary, as the story can stand on its own without the referential guideposts. Without them, some will, some won't, recall the Grimm tale (or the earlier 17th century Perrault story), but the film doesn't require the genuflection; it stands alone as a dark tale of moral turpitude with a modern feminist conclusion that works cleanly and doesn't rankle. Taylor told the screening audience that the old moral tales bear reexamination to align them with the realities of our present world, and she has done a fine job of doing so here.
Cinematographer Adam Lee provides a visual palette that is unsaturated and somber, reflecting the dark inner journeys of the characters. Shot entirely (if I recall correctly) in Oregon, where commonly gray skies offer the appropriate tonal range, I don't recall any but fleeting bright colors, except the occasional redeeming shaft of sunlight that never quite dispels the oppressive gray.
Watching this film unaware of the production limitations, you would be unlikely to conclude there were such constraints and count yourself lucky you stumbled upon a gem.
This one deserves multiple viewings to explore the actors' marvelous work, and the writer-director's masterful orchestration of an old tale with fresh sensibilities.
