Category Archives: 2018

2018, Recent Reviews, Reviews

Support the Girls (2018): Affectionate Comedy

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A Hooters-esque sports bar somewhere in Texas is an unusual setting for a film, but that’s to be expected from director Andrew Bujalski. His 2013 film Computer Chess followed attendees at a programming conference in 1980 and was shot entirely with cameras from the era in black and white so, comparatively, Support the Girls is significantly more accessible. Regina Hall (Girls Trip) plays Lisa, the general manager in charge of a lineup of young women while dealing with a host of her own issues. As one of the creators of the mumblecore film movement, Bujalski continues his interest in sympathetic looks into the lives of ordinary people filled with scripted dialogue so natural that it sometimes feels improvised.

Bujalski’s eccentric characters are brought to life by a wonderful cast. At the center of the film, Hall plays Lisa as the den mother of her bar. She refers to each of the young women as her family and acts on those words as she goes far beyond her manager-employee relationship to help them in their personal lives. She does this to her own detriment when the bar’s owner tries to enforce business-only behaviors. Her altruism and self-sacrifice, even as she deals with personal problems, is impossible not to love. Hall’s performance is warm, sensitive, and gentle as she drives home Lisa’s overwhelming compassion for others. Haley Lu Richardson (Columbus) also deserves praise for her work as Maci, Lisa’s top employee. Her Maci is perky beyond belief but without becoming annoying. As a character says, she’s “an angel sent from Heaven to show the rest of us what a good attitude looks like”. Her genuine enthusiasm and “can do” mindset is infectious and the connection between her, Lisa, and the rest of the staff is irresistible.

Hall and Richardson are amazing together.

At times the film feels like it may have been better suited to the small screen and that’s not a knock against the movie. Bujalski’s affectionate direction is strong but his characters and setting are so well drawn that it’s a shame we only get to spend 90 minutes with them. People normally talk about world building when it comes to sci-fi and fantasy movies, but this film is a great example for others to follow. Bujalski constantly includes subtle hints about other crises going on in the lives of the characters. Lisa’s relationship with her husband, Maci’s new boyfriend, and the plethora of other subplots at the fringes of this slice-of-life story would be perfect material for seasons of a television show. Bujalski has created an honest, recognizable world filled with relatable characters, each with their own stories waiting to be told. It’s a testament to the film’s quality that its biggest flaw is that we’re left wishing we could have spent more time with its loveable characters.

4/5 stars.

2018, Recent Reviews, Reviews

Madeline’s Madeline (2018): Performance Art Experiment

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Performance art is not the common person’s entertainment and neither is this movie. Director Josephine Decker (Thou Wast Mild and Lovely) has created a 90 minute arthouse piece capable of being enjoyed by only a select few. The film follows a teenage girl, Madeline (Helena Howard), in New York City as she spends her days working in a theater group while being raised by her mother Regina (Miranda July; Me and You and Everyone We Know).

Decker is known for making experimental films and she continues that trend  here. The first 15 minutes of the film will be more than enough to alienate the majority of viewers. In the intro, she cuts between a theater group doing abstract warmup exercises and Madeline at home continuing those exercises and the result is completely disorienting. Decker shoots in tight closeups with extremely shallow depth of field. Objects and actors come into and out of focus and a blurry haze often covers the screen while strange vocals fill the soundtrack. The growls and heavy breathing of their warmups become the rhythmic score of the film. At this early stage, the characters and any sort of potential conflict between them have not been introduced yet so the sensory barrage quickly runs out of steam, shifting from jarring to frustrating as we wait for a reason to care about the carefully created cacophony onscreen.

Madeline’s fellow performers are more irritating with every scene.

There is a germ of interesting story here about mother/daughter dynamics in the presence of mental issues. Madeline is on a prescription to prevent unexplained “episodes” and her mother also shows signs of instability. Regina is at times overly emotional, being brought to tears over the slightest comment and elsewhere is furious beyond belief. A narrative about a mentally unstable single mother raising her similarly unstable daughter and how the daughter manages her illness using theater as her own personal therapy would have been fascinating, but it is unfortunately not Decker’s focus.

When some semblance of a plot is finally shown, it is pushed to the background. Decker seems most interested in creating an experiential film about theater. That might be appealing to those invested in and familiar with the art, but to outside observers the continued emphasis on their practicing is esoteric, embarrassing, and exhausting. The troupe repeatedly tries different exercises ranging from pretending to be an animal to acting out personal trauma, but not towards any concrete goal. Each additional scene of black-clad performers wears heavily on any remaining patience.

Madeline’s Madeline may not be an enjoyable film to watch, but it’s not quite a failure. Decker has a specific vision of the all-consuming nature of performance art and uses discordant sounds and visuals to create a feeling, rather than a narrative for the audience. She is fortunate to have Howard whose emotional changes are as visible as her physical contortions. At one point, a character quotes Carl Jung and says “In all chaos there is a cosmos, in all disorder a secret order.” Decker has created a chaotic collection of expressionist sounds and visuals about performance art that will strain even patient viewers. There may be a secret order to her film, but only for viewers willing to put up with it – and there won’t be many of those.

2/5 stars.

2018, Recent Reviews, Reviews

BlacKkKlansman (2018): All Power to All the People

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Who better to go undercover in the KKK then a black cop? As ridiculous as it seems (resist the urge to reference the famous Dave Chapelle sketch), BlacKkKlansman is based on the true story of the first black cop in Colorado Springs and his infiltration of the local KKK chapter. Ron Stallworth (John David Washington; Ballers) plays a rookie cop who responds to an ad for the KKK in the newspaper, posing as a racist white man, but mistakenly gives out his real name. He continues his conversations on the phone and uses a white peer (Adam Driver; Paterson) to attend meetings in person to investigate their potentially violent plans. As director Spike Lee (Chi-Raq) notes in the opening titles “dis joint based upon some fo’ real, fo’ real shi*t”.

In his first leading role, Washington’s performance leaves room for improvement. He is at his best when on the phone with klansmen and directing the investigation. In these moments, he takes an active role in the film and shows his character’s personal passion for this particular job. However, throughout most of the runtime, his performance is strangely distanced. In many scenes that should call for a strong emotions, he has a blank, almost confused look on his face. His wide-eyed expression may be meant to convey his lack of experience as a police officer, but the unintended effect is that is reduces his agency within the story. It’s a shame that a character who takes such a daring leap is attached to a performance that doesn’t do his courage justice.

This deer in the headlights look comprises too much of Washington’s acting.

The 70s setting provides plenty of material for Lee to pump up the film’s style. The cast, particularly the black leads, are shown in bold outfits with bright colors, bell bottoms, paisley shirts, and with plenty of facial hair to go around. He also taps into the Black Power movement of the time and contrasts it with the KKK’s white supremacy. While the klansmen shout derogatory screed and exclusive benedictions like “God bless White America”, the Black Power leaders decry “All power to all the people”. In one of the film’s most powerful moments Lee juxtaposes the Klan’s initiation ritual and celebration with a Black Power meeting where a character recounts a case of sickening injustice and cruelty. The film’s greatest triumph is how it contextualizes the Black Power movement (and other equality initiatives), often miscast as radical or extremist, as striving for standard, humane treatment of all individuals in the face of the Klan’s ignorance, prejudice, and fearmongering.

Spike Lee’s films are inextricable from his personal politics and with BlacKkKlansman it feels like he has finally found the story where his message and movie are complimentary. His talents as a director are indisputable but too often his political voice has been problematic, inconsistent, or unsuited to the story at hand. This was apparent in Chi-Raq where he sincerely believed his ideas about gang violence and guns were going to cause social change, but muddled his message with lowbrow humor and precarious implications about gender roles. With his new film, Lee’s favorite topic of race relations in America is his, and his characters’, center focus. The script weaves in enough language mimicking contemporary politics that the film’s story feels relevant. This is sometimes done to comedic effect with the striking similarities between the KKK’s hateful rhetoric and modern day campaign slogans but Lee, never one for subtlety,  doesn’t hold back any punches. When it seems like he will resign himself to parallels and allegory, Lee comes out in force and makes his points explicit. As always, Lee isn’t just releasing a movie, he’s making a statement – and a loud one at that. His style and commentary on the present environment fill the story with enough panache and thematic contrasts to create one of his most effective films ever.

4/5 stars.

2018, Recent Reviews, Reviews

Pin Cushion (2018): The Price of Belonging

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A close mother and daughter move into a new town together. The mother, Lyn (Joanna Scanlan; Getting On), is a hunchback who loves animals and kitschy knick-knacks. The teenage daughter, Iona (Lily Newmark; Solo), is a wide-eyed kid, excited to meet her new friends. Iona quickly finds a group of girls at school, but soon faces what being their friend requires. Lyn is unable to make any friends due to her appearance and instead lies about it to her daughter. Director Deborah Haywood closely examines how these two fit, or don’t fit, into society and how that changes them.

The harsh realism can make the film difficult to watch. Iona is a kind, innocent girl and watching her change to fit in with her supposed friends can be a brutal experience, especially when peer pressure is involved. She doesn’t have the social knowledge to understand the dynamics at play with the mean girls she befriends and Newmark shows both her rapidly changing persona and exposes the naivete underneath. Unware of what the girls are truly capable of, she gives in to their demands and suffers severe social and, later, psychological consequences.

Haywood uses Iona’s situation to put the difference between fitting in and belonging into stark relief. Belonging is being accepted for you who are while fitting in is changing yourself to become accepted and Iona is faced with the latter. Even as she is ostracized by her former friend group she still desperately attempts to regain their attention or, failing that, the attention of anyone else. Watching her willingly debase herself just to get a modicum of peer approval is heart-wrenching.

It’s infuriating to watch Iona’s innocence be manipulated by her classmates.

Haywood’s second topic of interest is otherness. Lyn is a hunchback and is immediately mistreated for it. She, like Iona, wants to befriend others and is overly lenient with a neighbor in the hopes that they will become close. Despite this, she is treated poorly by all. Even a community group dedicated to building friendships excludes her. She tries wearing makeup and being kind, but is still mistreated. In an especially effective scene, the leader of the community group tells Lyn that they decided it would be in her best interest to not attend their meetings. Lyn agrees and begins profusely apologizing as if she was at fault for even trying to join.  Her attempts to belong only serve to show how different everyone believes she is and each failure leads to deeper self-blame.

The bullying that Lyn and Iona face is similar, yet they are unable to support each other. Iona makes up a lie about her mother being an air hostess and Lyn degrades Iona for her actions at school. In their own attempts to belong, they reject each other. Not because of any dislike, but because in spending time together they are reminded of their own outsider status. This is the source of the crushing sadness that permeates the film. The idea that we will reject ourselves and the ones we love just to get approval from what society considers normal. In the final act, the film takes this to the extreme with a chain of events that is grim beyond all expectations. With unforgiving focus, Haywood shows the rippling damage inflicted in the quest for belonging.

4/5 stars.

2018, Recent Reviews, Reviews

A Midsummer Night’s Dream (2018): Shakespeare in LA

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Shakespeare adaptations seem to be a constant in modern film, whether they’re faithful to the original story like Justin Kurzel’s Macbeth or radical refreshes like Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet. Director Casey Wilder Mott’s debut feature is closer to the latter, but without the excess of style. Mott brings the story to Los Angeles with some noteworthy updates. As in the original text, there are multiple parallel storylines with the main thread following two women, Hermia (Rachel Leigh Cook; She’s All That) and Helena (Lily Rabe; Miss Stevens), as they leave the city with their lovers only to have their relationships interfered with by the fairy Puck and the machinations of the fairy king and queen Oberon and Titania. Alongside these stories is a group of performers trying to put on a show for an upcoming wedding.

The decision to transport the setting from ancient Athens to modern day Los Angeles brings a whole new culture to the story. The young aristocrats are now millennials doing everything expected of their demographic. It will never be normal to see Shakespeare communicated using emojis but the incongruity is entertaining enough. There also some California-specific transformations with the mischievous fairy Puck becoming a surfer hippie and Titania and Oberon acting like some sort of drug-using cultists. There are even visual callbacks to millennial humor including one staging that references a frequently lampooned music video. Adapting Shakespeare is difficult because of the inherent disconnect any modern viewer has to the manner of speech, but Mott’s modern context brings the source material to a comparatively digestible level.

The Titania and Oberon scenes are the strangest and most enjoyable parts of the adaptation.

The play’s multiple storylines are not adapted at the same level of quality. The story of Hermia and Helena and their mercurial lovers is handled well with the confusion of Puck’s misplaced love spells leading to plenty of laughs. The feuding between Titania and Oberon is the most bizarre adaptation with their characters portrayed closer to a drug-addicted couple rather than the royalty of the original text, but the unexpected change is a welcome one. Oberon in particular is devilish in his expressions and his desire to embarrass his partner. It’s the play-within-a-play that struggles to be relevant. Because of the LA setting, this storyline is now an (amateur) film-within-the-film being made by students. The actors here are obnoxious and the attempted parody of film school productions is less satire and more an example of a bad student film. The overacted performances are groan-inducing and the intended payoff of showing their completed short falls completely flat, producing no laughs. Anytime the film cuts back to this story it muddles the pacing of the other interesting plotlines.

Mott’s take on the classic play is unlikely to change anyone’s feelings towards the work or Shakespeare in general. The flowery dialogue, while well-delivered by the majority of the cast, will still be too much for most to follow. However, it is noteworthy how naturally many of the actors are able to express the elaborate lines. Rather than shouting proclamations like most stage productions would, the cast uses their normal speaking voices which helps make the writing more familiar and approachable. Mott doesn’t change the core of the stories enough to entice new converts, but his modern context will be refreshing for existing fans.

3/5 stars.

2018, Recent Reviews, Reviews

Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again (2018): Amiable Charm

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Light, airy, and sweet, this is a sugar doughnut of a movie. Set five years after the events of the first film, Sophie (Amanda Seyfried; Mean Girls) is mourning the loss of her mother Donna (older version played by Meryl Streep) while planning the grand reopening of her hotel. Through conversations with her mother’s friends and Sophie’s three potential fathers (Colin Firth, Pierce Brosnan, and Stellan Skarsgard) – and the music of Swedish pop group ABBA – she reconnects to the memories of her mother’s younger self (played by Lily James; Baby Driver) and learns how she came to their beautiful island.

It might not have needed it, but the flashbacks to Donna’s youth add some depth to her situation from the first film and show off a talented younger cast. When the first film released ten years ago, there was some controversy surrounding the fact that Donna didn’t know which of the three men was Sophie’s biological father, but the new film contextualizes her relationships in a natural way without either condemning or apologizing for her actions. The younger versions of the fathers are each charming in their own distinct ways and are remarkably similar to the older versions both physically and in terms of their mannerisms. That being said, the film belongs to Lily James who radiates joie de vivre with her carefree smile. She also packs a strong singing voice and is able to do the timeless ABBA songs justice.

Behind the scenes, the creative talent has been significantly upgraded. The film is written and directed by Ol Parker (The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel) who embellishes the film with impressive in-camera transitions from past to present and some cute staging during the courtship scenes. The script was also written by Richard Curtis (Notting Hill) whose signature brand of romantic comedy comes through in several scenes. The younger version of Firth is written as the nervous, bumbling Englishman typically played by Hugh Grant and, familiar as it is, the trope still works. Throughout the film, Curtis’s dialogue and heartfelt touch are as enjoyable as ever.

The film is at its best when James has center stage.

That is not to say the film is without issues. The first half starts with big song numbers before the younger Donna’s character is established which prevents them from having much of an emotional impact. The dancing itself is disappointingly simple for a musical of this scale and consists mostly of characters giddily skipping with outstretched arms and the male cast simply cannot compare with their female counterparts. None of the leading males, either the old or the young versions, can sing or dance. Some opt to talk melodically rather than outright sing to bypass the problem, but it remains a glaring oversight to fill a musical with so many people that are not, in fact, musical.

Despite these qualms, the film is too good natured and happy to be concerned with its own flaws. Part-reunion, part-on-screen-party, the cast is clearly enjoying returning to the island and the story. There isn’t an ounce of cynicism to be found here. This is a world where the best choices are made by gut decisions and everyone ends up happily ever after. It gives fans of the original and musicals in general the songs and the spectacle, particularly one number taking place at sea, that they want to experience. Even for non-believers, Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again offers a celebratory tone and ebullient charm too amiable to offend.

3/5 stars.

2018, Recent Reviews, Reviews

Don’t Worry, He Won’t Get Far on Foot (2018): Effective, but Showy Acting

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After a car accident leaves him paralyzed, John Callahan (Joaquin Phoenix; Her) descends further into depression and alcoholism. His one reprieve is drawing offensive, but funny comic panels despite his limited mobility. He attends Alcoholics Anonymous meetings and asks an easygoing member (Jonah Hill; Superbad) to be his sponsor. The film is based on the true story of Callahan’s life and anyone interested should check out his cartoons which may actually be more enjoyable than the effective, but flawed movie.

Joaquin Phoenix seems to pick his roles based on how much spotlight is placed on him, the more, the better, of course. He’s not unique among actors in this regard, but his thirst for the centerstage can be distracting. His performance is dedicated and he is believably self-destructive as a depressed alcoholic, but his mannerisms are too blatant. His contorted neck, the limited use of his arms, and his labored speech become an actor’s affectations rather than genuine character traits. Sharing the screen with Phoenix, Hill is also looking for some critical attention. As a sponsor he is supportive, but his soft voice and pseudo-spiritual didactics pull him into the cliché of the wealthy, west-coast hippie. Both Phoenix and Hill turn in praiseworthy work, but do so in a way that draws too much attention to itself and distracts from the story.

Director Gus Van Sant (Good Will Hunting) has only exacerbated this issue. He appears to have sat back and let the actors lead the film rather than control their performances. There is little in the way of moderation when it comes to delivery. Instead each main actor and almost every scene is performed as a direct appeal for an award nomination. Movies can feature Oscar-worthy scenes and roles, but when they’re comprised almost entirely from them it negates the effort. When everything is at the same, almost theatrical level of emotion, it causes habituation. If the acting is constantly turned up to 11, the intended highlights no longer stand out. Truly great performances show range, not just intensity. The film desperately needs some balance between actors and the intensity of the script in order to make the climaxes impactful.

The oversaturation of emotion is also present in the visual style of the film. The cinematography is deliberately lacking in detail with a soft, almost fuzzy image intended to recall the look of 16mm film. It features an autumnal palette and the big hair and clothes of the 70s. While it is competent in achieving the look of the period, its portrayal feels one-note. The ochre hues, like the acting, are overly intense and begging for you to notice them.

There are also unexpectedly problematic production aspects. Several camera movements are amateurish as the lens clumsily crosses behind the cast during important dialogue and there are peculiar editing decisions. Van Sant intermittently uses vertical wipes between scenes that clash with the overly emotional acting and the lack of flow between scenes is at times downright sloppy. The film delivers some strong moments, but is overwhelmed by self-consciously showy acting and questionable production decisions. It works better as material for an actor’s showreel than as a complete film.

3/5 stars.

2018, Recent Reviews, Reviews

Sorry to Bother You (2018): The Crazy We Need

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If you wanted a wild and provocative take on a range of today’s issues, musician turned director Boots Riley has something for you. Struggling for money in Oakland, California, Cassius “Cash” Green (Lakeith Stanfield; Get Out) finds a job as a telemarketer. After a rough start, he gets the advice to use his “white voice” to rack up more sales. This leads to phenomenal success and he gets promoted to being a “power caller” with significantly higher pay. The change in his social status leads to conflict with his friends and family and the continued success forces him into contact with the CEO of a morally questionable company (Armie Hammer; The Social Network).

The miraculous nature of Sorry to Bother You is the smorgasbord of wide-ranging, serious topics it somehow addresses, all in its typically radical style. There are almost too many to detail here and their abundance should make the film feel unfocused, but it doesn’t. Instead, these issues are presented, and addressed, as they come up in daily life. They appear in one moment and disappear the next as another issue comes into view. This casual nature is reflective of Cash’s own life. He is faced with countless issues every day due to his station in life and can only deal with them as needed before being faced with another.

The film is littered with controversial topics and addresses each one with panache.

The cast is up to challenge of Riley’s eccentric world with Stanfield and Hammer leading the team. Cash begins the film jaded by a limited life with a chip on his shoulder as he walks into the room. Initially, his defensive attitude can be grating, but during his rapid ascent Stanfield gives Cash the right blend of awe and eventually disgust at the decadence of the ultra-rich. And  when it comes to playing the ultra-rich, Hammer is perfectly cast as the head of a company that offers minimal food and lodging in exchange for a lifetime of servitude. He reeks of entitled, upper-class privilege and is the epitome of a millennial WASP. Although his actions may seem welcoming to Cash, his sinister motivation is cold, corporate greed and Hammer brings credibility even when his character’s ideas become outrageous.

There are a lot of labels that could be used to describe Riley’s take on the amalgamation of issues presented. His style is at times surrealist, satirical, and even farcical just to name a few, yet he manages to maintain a consistent perspective amidst the shifting tones. The through line in his style is an anarchic spirit. No matter how he does it, Riley is interested in assaulting the accepted norms of daily life and exposing them for their true perversion. Where a director like David Lynch (Blue Velvet) creates uncannily similar worlds to recast the normal as abnormal, Riley instead amplifies existing aspects to the extreme. The suppression of racial identity is shown as total conversion to the majority through Cash’s nasally Caucasian impression, the stupidity of mass entertainment is represented in a show based solely on people being physically abused, and the impact of internet meme culture is shown through a 10 second clip creating a widespread consumer products line. Just when it seems Riley has exhausted his sources, the third act introduces an element that takes the dehumanization of the working class to an absolutely bonkers level. Yet, within the film’s chambers of oddities, these outlandish details are acceptable and double as an indictment of our modern society. Riley takes an irreverent swing at today’s issues that, in an increasingly strange and unequal world, is just the kind of crazy we need.

4/5 stars.

2018, Recent Reviews, Reviews

Eighth Grade (2018): Modern Adolescence

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The awkward period of adolescence is made infinitely worse when modern technology is involved. Kids growing up now have everything they do recorded and shared whether they like it or not. It becomes obvious that you are not in the cool crowd when everyone posts pictures of the party you weren’t even invited to. Stand-up comedian and musician Bo Burnham makes his directorial debut with a story that dives headfirst into this uncomfortable transition. Kayla (Elsie Fisher; McFarland, USA) is a thirteen year old girl about to graduate from eighth grade, but unhappy with her current life. She doesn’t have any friends and is viewed as “quiet” even though she feels she has a lot to offer. Outside of school, she creates YouTube videos with helpful life tips and lives with her single dad (Josh Hamilton).

The decision to use Kayla’s YouTube videos to narrate the film adds another layer of depth to her struggles unique to our current times. Kayla has to not only reconcile how she feels internally with how she interacts with kids at school, but also with her online persona. Here Burnham delves into the digital facade that so many create in order to feel accepted. Instead of buying a nicer car to “keep up with the Joneses”, children today post glamorous selfies. In one scene Kayla wakes up, elaborately applies her makeup, then returns to bed to take a photo with the subtitle “woke up like this…”. The constant pressure many young people face, particularly young women, now extends into their social media presence.

Kayla’s hyper-sensitivity around her dad is hilarious and relatable.

Each of her videos contrasts who she wants to be with who she actually is. As Kayla gives advice to others on her little-known channel, she reveals her own insecurities. Technology is often portrayed as dehumanizing, but Burnham is also aware of its intimate nature. Talking to a webcam, Kayla is uninhibited and her videos become personal confessions. Burnham deserves enormous credit for capturing this nuance and the therapeutic aspect of online content creation. Her videos can be viewed as an updated form of a personal diary. Even if it isn’t reflective of how she behaves in school, her channel represents her innermost thoughts and expresses them in a way only possible with modern technology.

Fisher is alternatively adorable and inexplicable as the self-conscious teen. Her rapid changes in mood and volatile reactions perfectly capture the confused emotions of her character. She’s faced with so many fears and seemingly impossible expectations that she can only express herself in outbursts at home and Hamilton is the quintessential father. He is supportive and well-meaning, but also has all the traits that would infuriate a teenage girl. He plays the father as dorky and simultaneously too intrusive and too removed from the tumultuous time in his daughter’s life. Yet, the film doesn’t just use him for laughs. When it’s time to deal with the issues at hand, Hamilton delivers a heartfelt monologue with the gentle warmth and honesty only a loving parent can. Burnham has turned the story of one awkward teenager into an affectionate and sincere look at modern adolescence that is both of its time and universal.

4/5 stars.

2018, Recent Reviews, Reviews

The Endless (2018): Cosmic Horror with Amateur Acting

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After having escaped an isolated doomsday cult years earlier, two brothers, played by directors Justin Benson and Aaron Moorhead (Spring), scrape by doing menial jobs and subsisting on ramen noodles. The younger brother yearns for the easygoing life he remembers from his childhood and wants to return. Reluctantly, the older sibling agrees on the condition that they only spend one day at the compound. As they reconnect with the cult, the brothers notice strange happenings and secretive behavior.

Rather than explore an expansive universe, Benson and Moorhead keep their sci-fi limited in scope. The supernatural elements are gradually introduced through small-scale interactions. A man disappearing just out of sight, birds circling overhead, and unusual columns protruding from the ground remind us that something isn’t right with the area. The cult members discuss an “ascension” with some higher power surrounding them that puts their motives under question.

The directors create enough uncanny events to keep viewers alert.

Despite a limited budget, the directors are able to use camera effects to communicate the sci-fi elements. The image frequently contorts and stretches as if being viewed on a funhouse mirror and simple effects like characters phasing in and out of view and subtle distortions of light are used to much greater impact than they likely cost. There are a few moments where the budget was clearly not enough to meet the needs of the story, but overall Benson and Moorhead accomplish a lot with their modest means.

They also bring an unexpected amount of humor to the film. In retrospect, the film would have benefitted from different casting, but as the lead actors Benson and Moorhead are often awkward and goofy in the way brothers used to heckling each other can be. They write side stories that also follow this tone. Characters that are faced with otherworldly problems are grounded by their lesser, unsophisticated issues and always played for laughs. The comedy seems unintentional at first, but it prevents the film from becoming morose and adds some welcome levity.

The film can be thought of as a 100-minute Twilight Zone episode. It carries the same contained intrigue and mystery. Benson and Moorhead attempt some larger themes about family and the importance of honesty with loved ones, but these are only somewhat successful and secondary to the horror and sci-fi. By opening with a quote from H.P. Lovecraft, the directors indicate they are interested in a very specific type of horror: cosmic horror or fear of the unknown. The forces that might be at play with the cult are larger than the leads and far beyond their comprehension. It’s this idea that there may be something else connected to the cult and that the columns might represent something inexplicable that creates suspense. The Endless doesn’t reach true terror and the sometimes amateurish lead performances can break immersion, but it’s central mystery has enough substance to sustain the runtime.

3/5 stars.