Grimmfest Easter Horror Nights 5: 'Trans', 'Red River Road' & 'Nova', 'Strayed', 'Hey' it's me'

 

TRANS

Director-writer: Naeri Do

2020, The Republic of Korea

Time-loops, electricity and biology, bullying, temporal displacement, murder and nihilism. In a world of high school bullying, Minyoung Go (Hwanf JeJeong-in) is experiencing a time-loop. There’s a guy that sits in the desk in front of her that has an artificial – bionic? – arm. Someone has been murdered outside the school, fried to a crisp. Another guy, Taeyong (Kim Taeyoung) having saved her from bullying, shows her that he has a lab in back home and introduces her to transhumanism. He weds this to adolescent nihilism, thinking himself superior and humankind trash and over. This is not ‘Weird Science’.  He even has a giant Tesla Coil thing set up in the desert. The narrative crashes along and doubles back on itself, leaving behind quickly what might appear to be a Making Superheroes At School revenge set-up. There’s still the dramatics of characters conflicting, but then there’s identity merging, and then we get to time travel… It’s heady, and you’d best keep up, and elements of fun come with playing electric guitar to Tesla Coils. Although there’s a Hard Sci-Fi feel to the philosophy, characters are just left confused and desperate in the wake of superpowers and multi-dimensions, which seems appropriate for bullied teenagers biting off more than they can chew. And where else can you go with angsty teens other than being swamped with Big Science they think they understand?

Red River Road

Writer/director - Paul Schuyler

2021, USA

A real family affair, made wholly by the Schuylers under lockdown conditions. This brings, of course, an authentic family feel to the characters and the setting – oh look, nerd stuff! A whole room dedicated to DVDs… and film reels as decoration! Action figures! – which helps no end with identification and investment. This wave of made-at-home films, long and short, are showcasing the innovation and DIY drive of filmmakers more than ever. Of course, it helps if you have the decent script and ideas. A short like ‘Thrall’ uses it limitations and assets and flourishes with themes, for example: at first, I probably thought it was standard fare, but upon reflection found it properly meaty. ‘Red River Road’ (the Schuylers’ actual road) deploys its scenario discreetly: Anna’s (Jade Schuyler) paranoid pillow talk early on may initially seem the result of a anxious nature, but it proves to be a vital junket to what’s going on; and once there’s the knife accident, things come into focus even more. With a solid family foundation, the film can take its time to drip-feed details that there’s a pandemic out there, spread by the internet that messes with reality. There’s even microchips in necks and rotary phone calls to imply government control. It’s right of its moment.

‘Red River Road’ succeeds with its depiction of a warm family dynamic and its portrayal of slipping reality, lack of control, fear of the intangible and mounting loss. It would be harder to find a more personal film capturing the anxieties and abstract doom of the pandemic lockdown era. It even uses family film footage for the flashback/whatever. A budget may even have been a hindrance to the vision.

 

&

James McAbee’s ‘Nova’ is just what the short form is for: a rotating shot showing off special effects. Impressively executed and designed, we can fill in the backstory ourselves. 

Sarah Bonrepaux’s ‘Strayed’ condenses abstract fear of the self, of being debilitated when you’re in your prime.

The Sposato’s ‘Hey, it’s Me’ meets the criteria of its lofty sci-fi time-spanning demands by focusing on one person, offering some retro-futurism and keeping it things colourful. The Grimmfest summary cite ‘The Twilight Zone’, and it certainly has that feel. Fully satisfying.

 

 

Tomboy

 

Writer director ~ Céline Sciamma, 

France, 2011

 

Ten-year-old Laure (Zoé Héran), seeing her chance when her family has to move due to dad’s work, presents herself as a boy to her new neighbourhood friends.

Céline Sciamma talks of ‘Tomboy’ being in part like a thriller, and indeed it is as the threat of Laure’s deception being discovered that powers the drama. We see her watching the boys play football and assessing the possibilities, how she can mimic that budding masculine bravado and rough-and-tumble. They already know her as Michaël so all options are open. But at home, she’s so sweet with her younger sister, Jeanne (Malonn Lévana), and these scenes are mostly the core of the film for being so touching and natural. Where Laure-Michaël is most at ease, probably. She’s not trying to run away from anything: it’s a loving home. She’s just exploring identity.

I have seen criticisms that the film doesn’t fully delve into its issues, but the open-endedness means it’s a film that opens the questions without judgement. Is Laure-Michaël transgender, non-binary or gay or simply boyish in a world that prescribes rigid gender roles and regulations? It is a testament to the successful androgyny that the film solidifies in Laure-Michaël that when forced to wear a dress, it just looks wrong on her. When mum reprimands her, it is for the deception rather than hint of transgressing gender roles as in ‘Pelo Melo’. There is no sense her family will reject her: that’s not where the tension is.

Orla Smith writes: “Things get more complicated when adults and Mikhael’s peers discover how they’re presenting themselves and take objection to it, a disruption of the peace and happiness Mikhael experiences before bigotry came into play.” But even here, I am hesitant to attribute their reaction primarily to learned prejudice rather than outrage at the deceit: that’s not fully how it struck me.

Certainly the scenes between the sisters are the most disarming moments because little Malonn Lévana is so amusing and charming as only young children can be. Sciamma’s triumph is in giving the kids enough space to be themselves. For example, the scene where the sisters are playing a “Guess who?” game, lying in bed, is so raw and unaffected that it is a surprise to hear it took three takes. The glee Jeanne takes in harbouring and even toying with the secret she’s been entrusted with is both delightful and suspenseful (will she be able to keep the secret??).

It’s all filmed in the bright sunshine of A Lost Childhood summer, but it isn’t troubled like ‘Summer 1993’, or unforgiving and heart-wrenching like ‘Pelo Melo’, or a pastel-hued memory as in ‘Pain & Glory’. It has a similar buoyancy and affinity for its age-group as ‘We are the Best’, but ‘Tomboy’ is even more lowkey in aesthetic. It effortlessly catches the everyday bubble of amusements of children at play, but its questions about character and identity are foremost and sympathetic. Without answers or judgement, it conveys the mysteries and confusion of forming individuality, and speaks empathically to that moment when children are wondering just what they are amongst their peers, let alone the adult world.