Backrooms

Director: Kane Parsons
Starring: Chiwetel Ejiofor, Renate Reinsve, Mark Duplass, Finn Bennett, Lukita Maxwell, Avan Jogia, Robert Bobroczkyi, Krista Kosonen
Running Time: 110 min.
Rating: R

**This Review Contains Plot Spoilers**

★★★ ½ (out of ★★★★) 

Certain expectations will accompany a film with a premise as far out there as Kane Parsons' creepy and mesmerizing Backrooms. So much so that even fans of the web series on which it's based doubted how such a sparse, high concept idea would play as a feature. But with a staggering directorial debut, Parsons proves them wrong, transporting us into a seemingly endless hell of liminal spaces and quietly foreboding dread. It's a hypnotizing world where stacked furniture, barren corridors and humming florescent lights appear to be the biggest threat, until we realize the gravest danger facing anyone who enters are themselves. 

It's a place that misremembers details in shockingly disturbing ways, creating an endless loop where the search for answers only results in more questions and frustration for those willing to take the risk. Since coming and going is fairly simple, Will Soodik's puzzle box script really revolves around why its protagonist feels so compelled to stay, aside from his adventurous curiosity. But as each corner beckons the latest human guinea pig to go further, it absorbs every piece of their lives in the process, drawing visual and thematic comparisons to Cube, The Shining, Twin Peaks, Vivarium, Severance and even The Blair Witch Project. And yet there still isn't anything quite like it. 

It's 1990 in Santa Clara, California and financially struggling former architect Clark (Chiwetel Ejiofor) owns and manages Clark's Ottoman Empire, a furniture store with a peg-legged pirate as its mascot. Battling alcoholism and struggling to cope with his wife leaving him, therapist Dr. Mary Kline (Renate Reinsve), grows exasperated by Clark's refusal to take responsibility for any of it. And as he continues to blame everyone but himself, she engages him in role playing exercises that frustratingly confirm his chronic complacency. 

Rather than attempt to change, Clark doubles down, obsessing over an invisible portal in the furniture store's basement showroom that leads to an eerily threatening maze of dimly lit hallways and unoccupied office spaces. He also convinces reluctant employee Kat (Lukita Maxwell) and her stoner boyfriend Bobby (Finn Bennett) to join him in documenting this on video to show Mary he isn't crazy. But the deeper they go, it's clear this hidden space poses a far greater threat than anyone anticipated, including Mary, who searches for him just as the dimension's terrifying truths start to surface. Though for Clark, it may already be too late. 

The first thing we see isn't Clark, but a prologue featuring a hazmat suited researcher with a camcorder filming the backrooms, frantically searching for a way out after being separated from the rest of his group. A lesser story would have employed a first person shaky cam perspective for the film's entire duration and probably focused solely on efforts to retrieve him. But this isn't your ordinary horror. Overwhelmed by the endless continuation of long corridors, the man runs from an unseen entity, failing to reestablish communication as we're shown a pair of scientists later studying this recovered footage. It's the ultimate tease, setting the stage for what Clark and Mary will ultimately experience.

Many of Clark's problems stem from his own denial as he dodges accountability at every turn. Mary sees through him right away, indulging his worst impulses with the hope he'll eventually have a breakthrough. Instead, he seems more comfortable listening to himself complain about his ex-wife. And if the biggest surprise about Clark's therapy sessions is him agreeing to go at all, Ejiofor's performance invests you in a flawed character whose fleeting moments of clarity conceal his resentful bitterness. 

It's also hard not to share in Clark's excitement when he walks through that wall, dumbfounded by what he finds on the other side. Parsons lets us follow him into these rooms with the same sense of urgency as he that ill fated researcher did before things went south. None of this is about leaving, but what's left behind, as Ejiofor lets Clark's nervous silence do all the talking while he finds the way out, desperate to share what he's uncovered. 

That Clark's so willing to tell this to a therapist who could have him committed speaks to how desperate he is. But it's only when a concerned, incredulous Mary reacts as anyone would that he goes off the deep end, selfishly dragging Kat and Bobby along for the ride. Aside from some excellent sound design, Parsons creatively employs found footage by confining it to the section where it's most needed. And though Clark doesn't have a clue just how dangerous it is in there, after a while, we start to wonder whether he even cares. 

As an architect and personality, few are more likely to appreciate this space than Clark, who's finally found a home for the self satisfied smugness that defines his life. He is, after all, just "wired differently." Except the biggest problem with this new home isn't getting lost, attacked by furniture or even dying of starvation or thirst. It's something more sinister and possibly supernatural, despite Parsons' ability to keep one toe firmly rooted in reality. Mary's overtaken by the urge to find her patient not because she believes him, but out of a concern he's become a harm to himself or others. And she's not far off.   

Some of the film's more underappreciated scenes involve flashbacks to Mary's tumultuous childhood under the care of her agoraphobic mother. And when we first meet the therapist, she's watching the house she grew up in get demolished, along with all the complicated memories that accompany it. Understandably gravitating toward a psychology career, she's tucked away painful parts of her past she'd rather not confront. Unfortunately, the backrooms will unlock it by trapping her in a prison similar to the one she grew up in, shut off from the real world.

Reinsve provides a lot while saying very little, as an empathetic Mary displays more patience with Clark than most could, plowing past his obnoxious facade and explosive temper to help. But as the story wears on, you slowly see her therapy mask slip and a fighter emerge when Clark's "connection" to this environment grows stranger. And in keeping with Parsons' brilliant melding of practical and digital effects, a terrifying figure emerges, culminating in a spectacular, vertigo inducing shot of Mary looking down at this phenomenal space in all its overwhelming expanse. 

At one point, Clark equates his discovery as describing a dog to someone for the first time and asking them to draw it. And while that feels oddly accurate, it's also a lot more. By the time its conclusion arrives, we understand why Mark Duplass' mysterious researcher seems so permanently awestruck. By making us believe he's only scratched the surface of this bizarre universe, Parsons goes all the way down the rabbit hole with a final scene that's the stuff of nightmares. It'll provides answers, if only just enough to help viewers interpret the rest for themselves.                                                            

Sentimental Value

Director: Joachim Trier
Starring: Renate Reinsve, Stellan Skarsgård, Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas, Elle Fanning, Anders Danielsen Lie, Jesper Chistiansen, Lena Endre, Cory Michael Smith, Catherine Cohen, Andreas Stoltenberg Granerud, Øyvind Hesjedal Loven, Lars Väringer, Ida Marianne Vassbotn Klasson 
Running Time: 133 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)  

Early in Joachim Trier's Norwegian Oscar winner Sentimental Value, the main character suffers a debilitating bout of stage fright, and judging from the reactions of those closest to her, they've seen this before. Eventually, she'll power through, but with barely a second to spare as the cast and crew anxiously wait on pins and needles. Of course, such panic ridden episodes often have nothing to do with how well an actor knows their lines or skill level, but whatever else is going through their mind at the moment, which usually includes a few nightmarish scenarios related to failure and insecurity. 

While those intrusive thoughts may be fleeting, they're no less paralyzing, and from what we can tell from the protagonist's unusual coping mechanisms, there's a lot more happening underneath. Trier and co-writer Eskil Vogt reveal what as the narrative zigs and zags, hitting occasional lulls before arriving at its inevitable, but still moving conclusion. As a small scale relationship drama about intergenerational trauma, it doesn't exactly break new ground, but the performances and pangs of missed opportunities and regret strongly resonate, echoing through the walls of this family's home.

Respected film director Gustav Borg (Stellan Skarsgård) is in a slump, struggling to get his latest projects financed when he completes a script inspired by his mother Karin, who was tortured by Nazis before eventually committing suicide in their Oslo home when he was a child. It's also the same house his two daughters Nora (Renate Reinsve) and Agnes (Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas) were raised in by their therapist mom after he left Norway following their divorce. Now as adults, Nora is a successful stage actress having an affair with a colleague while sister Agnes is a married historian raising young son Erik (Øyvind Hesjedal Loven) with her husband.  

When Nora and Agnes's mother dies, Gustav unexpectedly returns to Norway to reclaim the house despite the lingering resentment from his daughters. That's especially true for Nora, who refuses to read Gustav's new script, rejecting the idea of her playing his mother. Disappointed, Gustav instead casts popular American actress Rachel Kemp (Elle Fanning) whose star power helps secure the film a Netflix deal. While seemingly up for this challenge, the role proves more difficult than Rachel envisioned, with Gustav clumsily using the movie as a vehicle to compensate for his own shortcomings as a father. But when actually faced with taking responsibility and connecting with both his daughters, he risks losing them for good. 

Jumping back and forth through time between the sisters' childhood, Gustav's and the present day, the house takes on a life of its own, becoming as much a character as its occupants, mainly due to all the memories forged inside. This isn't lost on Gustav, whose big plans involve filming there with Nora as his lead. But we can tell the very thought of working alongside him disgusts her, as she doubts he'll be able to effectively communicate any better on set than in real life. 

Nora sees right through Gustav's intentions, which involve casting her to make up for years of  abandonment, alcohol abuse and emotional inaccessibility. And if even her mother's recent death can't bring them any closer, nothing will, much less a vanity project at the end of a career he prioritized over them. 

While Nora's understandably hard headed about reaching a compromise, Agnes implores her to at least keep an open mind, even if Gustav does himself a disservice by bombarding Nora with backhanded compliments about how her talent's wasted on the stage. Having starred in her father's most acclaimed film as a young girl, Agnes can relate, despite seemingly emerging from their tumultuous past better adjusted than her sister, though not without some lingering scars.

Gutav's determination to get his film made with or without Nora leads him to cast Rachel, the young ingenue impressed by his work and looking to prove herself. But she's also all wrong for a role written for someone else and one of the plot's best aspects is how Gustav refuses to see that, supporting and nurturing Rachel in a way he never did his daughters. Unfortunately, he won't be able to repair the real relationship with someone else playing pretend for him, no matter how good an actress she is or isn't. 

Fanning has a tricky job in that she's called upon to have Rachel recognize the misguided futility of Gustav's experiment. It's also very meta in the sense that she's heavily pulling from experiences performers have when stuck in parts they feel ill suited for, digging deep and pulling at every thread to make it work. She's scared to death of screwing up, which could be viewed as mirroring Nora's stage fright, though in a slightly different context.  

Thes rehearsal scenes are among the film's best as we watch Gustav guide Rachel through a process that just isn't clicking, but not from a lack of effort. Whether Rachel's even talented is irrelevant since the film's more interested in giving her credit for recognizing what Gustav can't, or doesn't want to. She knows who should really be playing this part.                          

Skarsgård and Reinsve hold this together as we wait to see if the internally troubled Gustav has an epiphany or Nora lets her guard down long enough to realize his movie's an apology, if not also a cry for help. And while the remarkable Reinsve unquestionably carries this, Lilleas's slowly evolving turn as Agnes gradually sneaks up on you, with Skarsgård delivering subtle, understated work as his character struggles to make headway with his daughters. 

Both sisters carry decades worth of familial dysfunction, but one clearly feels the brunt, especially when her father's recent return reinforces just how raw a deal she got. But at the story's crux are complicated emotions and a shared history that somberly bubbles to the surface in its closing minutes, quietly subverting expectations right up until the final reveal.

A Different Man

Director: Aaron Schimberg
Starring: Sebastian Stan, Renate Reinsve, Adam Pearson, C. Mason Wells, Owen Kline, Charlie Korsmo, Patrick Wang, Michael Shannon
Running Time: 112 min.
Rating: R

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

With A Different Man, writer/director Aaron Schimberg's asks the intriguing question of how someone living with a seemingly permanent condition would react if they were cured. It's easy to assume they'd be thrilled to put the agony behind them and start over, maybe even reinventing themselves to take advantage of all the opportunities that slipped by. But if said disorder directly ties to their physical appearance, it's more complicated, forcing them adjust to an existence that no longer hinges on how others see them. 

The film's facially disfigured protagonist knows all about perception, as it fully informs how he talks, walks and carries himself through various interactions, many of which are unpleasant. And though it's become routine, this doesn't necessarily make it any less easier or tiresome, even as he tries to take it in stride. Some glance, others turn away in shock while the rest either just politely pretend not to notice him or are too involved in their own business to care. 

Assumptions that Schimberg would make some kind of disabled PSA are shot down with an early scene that spoofs one, setting the stage for a dark, absurdly hilarious satire anchored by a gut-wrenching turn from Sebastian Stan on par with his recently Oscar nominated work in The Apprentice. That this is the same actor we just watched play a young Donald Trump is mind boggling, even while acknowledging both characters' affinities for real estate and reinvention. Here, he creates this indelible portrait of a man who gets a life changing gift, only to collapse under the weight of a jarring new reality that might cost him everything.

Struggling, socially awkward New York-based actor Edward Lemuel (Stan) suffers from neurofibromatosis, a genetic medical condition that causes disfiguring facial tumors. Plagued with lingering self consciousness and anxiety, he befriends new neighbor and aspiring playwright Ingrid Vold (Renate Reinsve) moves in next door, with him even gifting her his vintage typewriter. Fearing to express his romantic feelings, he soon gets a call to participate in an experimental drug treatment that could potentially cure his condition, Shocked to discover it actually works, an entire outer layer of skin peels off as the tumors begin dissipating 

Now with a new appearance, Edward fakes his suicide, taking the name of "Guy Moratz" as he accumulates wealth and success as a hotshot realtor. But when he discovers Ingrid is producing an off-Broadway play based his life, he's compelled to audition for the lead, with her unaware of his true identity. As the two grow close again, a confident, outgoing neurofibromatosis patient named Oswald (Adam Pearson) takes interest in the production. Soon, his input into the show's direction heavily influences Ingrid, jeopardizing Edward's chances at tackling the role he was born to play.

The possibility it wasn't Edward's physical appearance that held him back, but his own insecurity is a notion that taints what should be a celebratory metamorphosis into the man he always wanted to be. But the recognition this miracle cure won't just flip a switch that shuts off his problems is a tough pill to swallow, especially since there are issues related to having the condition that aren't solely physical. 

Putting the film's magical realism aside to view this strictly as a actual medical breakthrough, it's likely any patient would have mental health professionals charting their progress for years following the procedure. And while that could have very well been protocol, Edward disappearing in an effort to erase his past throws that for a loop. In actuality, the hardest lesson he'll learn is how he's still the same exact person, regardless of looks. 

Edward's top priority soon becomes reconnecting with Ingrid in an attempt to take the place in her life and on stage he feels he's owed. But when Oswald bursts onto the scene and stands out as someone with the same affliction, but a far different personality, his plan unravels. Gregarious and fun, Oswald's everything he isn't, and as crazy as things get when this man politely interjects himself into the play, Schimberg's script carefully avoids painting either as the villain. It's Edward who becomes his own worst enemy. 

Beneath makeup artist Mike Marino's facial prosthetics (which draws Elephant Man comparisons), Stan's withdrawn demeanor and closed off body language offer powerful glimpses into Edward's defeated state of mind and sense of inadequacy. And the feeling's only heightened by a hypnotic, insanely catchy original score from composer Umberto Smerelli that captures the story's bizarre idiosyncrasies. Stan's performance truly takes hold when the miracle drug does, with an uncomfortably anguished Edward slowly becoming invisible in this new skin, going so far as wearing the mask mold of his old face to reclaim his "original" life.

Reinsve brilliantly plays Ingrid as full of inscrutable contradictions, her true feelings and intentions constantly keeping us on our toes. While cultivated over a relatively short period of time, the bond she shares with Edward seems genuine, even if her promise to write him into a play that revolves around his life can be read any number of ways. If we're left speculating whether this is charity or borders on exploitation. she also wrestles with that herself. The idea pops up again in a superb later scene where Edward glumly listens to an irritating but observant audience member's interpretation of the show that mirrors our own conflicted theories.  

Pearson (who's best known for 2013's Under The Skin and lives with neurofibromatosis) is a revelation as the free spirited Oswald, whose eerily timed presence is offset by his charm. Even when a frustrated Edward's jealously take over, he still can't really bring himself to hate someone whose jovial personality becomes the measuring stick for what could have been. He sees at least part of himself in this pleasant stranger, culminating in a third act that skirts the line between tragedy and farce as cruelly comical misfortune unfolds. And while the possibility of revealing the truth to Ingrid constantly hangs over this picture, coming clean and attempting to regain his allegedly stolen life isn't so simple when it's already gone.

With elements recalling that classic Twilight Zone episode, "Eye of the Beholder,"The Substance and even Adaptation, this film examines an anti-hero who can't emotionally disengage from the supposed ugliness he thought was holding him back, no matter how miraculous the outward transformation. Maybe Edward was just incapable of change this entire time, unable to let go of who he always viewed himself to be.The final line is an ironic gut punch, finding profound meaninglessness at the bottom of a meta rabbit hole where art and morality intersect.