sayerspruell

When I saw the title Streamer, I assumed it was a horror movie. Let's face it - there's probably another film out there with the same name, because social media is a major set up to exploring these particular themes. But to my surprise, this small indie is not horror in the traditional sense. Streamer is, at its core, a quiet drama. It takes an intimate, surreal approach to the story of a lonely young man struggling to connect with the real world.

This is a story about yearning - the simple desire to love. For the male lead, the internet becomes his escape, as face to face communication feels overwhelming. His fixation begins when he talks with a beautiful woman online under anonymity. By coincidence, lives in the same apartment building. What follows is a slow, deliberate exploration of his day-to-day mundane life, revealing the dread, of unrequited longing through careful shot composition and pacing.

The two leads deliver their performances with precision. Jared Bratt, in particular, carries the weight of the film with subtlety and realism - his eyes and body language speaks volumes.

Visually, the film is striking. Its use of color - shifting from black and white frames to saturated pink hues - creates a dreamlike quality. The story blurs the line between reality and imagination, leaving the audience uncertain about what is truly happening and what exists only in the character's mind. But rather than seeking clear answers or adhering to a conventional three - act structure, the film invites us to inhabit this man's fractured perspective.

Despite its limited budget, Streamer never feels cheap or undeveloped. It reminded me of what I love about small - budget filmmaking, much like Robert Rodriguez's El Mariachi. While that is an action film, the comparison stands: with a strong focus on story and craft, a small film can make a lasting impact.

The story follows Amanda, a psychiatrist, moving into a new house with her husband. However, the house is not normal; she feels something eerie stirring whenever she hears screams in the middle of the night. It seems there are ghosts lurking, but she is the only one who can hear them. Is she crazy? Is she not? The film dribbles with this question, leading to highly unexpected territory throughout.

At first, it was difficult to embrace some of ideas that I could tell could be better captured with a larger budget, especially regarding the visual effects. The dialogue often felt unrealistic and didn't, at least with the supporting characters, convey realism with its characters. The script could have benefited from more reliance on the actors' understanding of their characters. The main actress, Jen Ayer Drake, who plays Amanda, delivers a performance that feels relatively genuine.

Despite the criticism regarding some choices and lost opportunities, what keeps the film engaging throughout its runtime is the unexpected twists and turns all thanks to the many choices in the cutting of the film. There is enough to be seen, and enough to be unseen, leaving much to the imagination. This independent horror film manages to maintain creativity within its ambitious concept. It offers an intriguing take on a ghost story that isn't necessarily a ghost story.

I was particularly captured by Amanda's first client, who is convinced of her own truth, which ultimately turns out to be nothing more than a mere fantasy. This blurring of reality and fiction propels the story forward.

The low budget contributed to unique storytelling techniques through its sound and camerawork, evoking feelings of mysticism - like Amanada feeling too hot in one room while struggling to breathe in another, hinting at drowning. Amanda senses the tragedy that occurred in the house, motivating her to uncover the truth.

The question of whether Amanada truly sees these things or is simply crazy was incredibly engaging, prompting me to wonder if the entire narrative was a lie. That level of suspension of disbelief truly worked in my opinion.

However, I found the ending to be somewhat cliched. I expected the film to stick to its psychological roots, as I believe that approach is more effective in horror than another twist. It left both the supernatural and psychological elements up in the air. Perhaps another rewatch would help if I missed any of the minor details that foreshadow the ending.

While the film is far from perfect, it presents some very unique ways of telling a ghost story, along with something more. For that reason, I highly recommend this film to anyone looking for something interesting that combines various well-known elements in the horror genre. It held some very unique ways in telling a ghost story but something more.

John Cairn's new film Effigy evokes an unnerving yet reminiscing feeling of surrealistic and experimental films like the works of David Lynch and Under the Skin.

The film follows a foreign translator Catherine, played by Camille Stahl, as she lives in the isolated city of metropolitan Tokyo. Her life takes a dark turn when she encounters an enigmatic client who demands a translation. From that moment, the line between reality and imagination begins to blur, revealing Catherine's inner depravity.

Effigy is undeniably niche, offering no clear answers as the plot unfolds, leaving the viewer with more questions than resolutions. If Schoolgirl was able to avoid cliches within a genre that could easily lean towards creative limitations, then this highly surrealistic film was able to highly compliment what an experimental horror film can do. It challenges its audience to interpret its meaning, reflecting the director's intent to push the boundaries of contemporary storytelling.

The cinematography is nothing short of stunning, portraying the city as an isolated, ominous presence. It was as if the city itself was coming alive with the dark contrast across the buildings, where the muted colors and ominous lights beamed in the streets. The sound design enhances this sense of lurking horror, hiding just beyond the shadows. It almost felt like I was back in Silent Hill, a franchise that I adore.

The editing is equally striking, particularly during the scenes where Catherine translates. The film cuts between her frustrated work and her drawing, with the visuals coming to life as she narrates, a technique that echoes Cairn's earlier film, Schoolgirl Apocalypse.

For an indie film there were some very strong performances. Camille Stahl gives a very compelling and demanding performance, shifting from innocence to psychosis with subtle yet terrifying precision just by the way she looks and moves alone. Shinsuke Kao as Doggy was great too, having a profound ability by simply disappearing into his character.

Although I didn't fully grasp the film's message after my first viewing-especially as it reached its ambiguous conclusion-that's not the point of a surreal film. It's about the visual and hypnotic experience. And yet, much like watching a David Lynch film or playing Silent Hill, there's a persistent sense that a deeper meaning lies behind the curtain-one with layers of interpretation waiting to be uncovered.

Another reason for a re watch!