Feast

Megan (played by writer/director Gillian Harker) is a woman barrelling down the road of self-loathing and destruction, scoffing her way through an obscene amount of food as she plays back a series of misjudged voice messages that painfully document the failing of a past relationship.

Feast is very much that in terms of all it achieves, a real gluttony of creative storytelling technique and astute filmmaking prowess. It might not necessarily be one to enjoy while eating yourself, a warning to the easily queasy; the imagery can be quite visceral at times and is more than likely to make something turn in even the strongest of stomachs. But as unsettling and toe-curling as watching our lead character Megan hack up a fully chewed digestive biscuit might be, the unapologetic nature of these moments undeniably emboldens all the deftly executed aspects of the film that Harker and co. have brilliantly got all singing from the same song sheet. It looks great, framed beautifully and edited even better. But it’s the crisp and punchy sound editing that really stands out, especially in those aforementioned scenes where every bite and chomp and slurp and suck is positively deafening, enough to set your teeth right on edge.

Plotwise, you’ll almost certainly catch on very quickly to what’s happening here, well before the film confirms it all, but not because it’s obvious. It’s because the meticulous care and attention that has been paid to the film’s mise-en-scene, dishes piled dangerously high, countless stains from questionable substances and days-old take-out boxes littering every free inch of the setting, puts us exactly where the film wants us to be because Feast isn’t about the destination or indeed the outcome. It’s about feeling for and with Megan, a woman drowning not just in food but also in self-pity, surrounded by the borderline squalor that is simply representing a physical manifestation of her emotional turmoil.

And Harker proves that they are just as comfortable in front of the camera as they are behind it, which is just as well given how very up close and personal the lens gets at times. Listening back with Megan to their impulsive and ill-advised voice notes on their own would be enough to make you wince and cringe, but it’s actually in seeing the full opera of emotions play out brilliantly on Harker’s face that will hit your heart, hitting hardest when we watch the slow and painful transition from recollection to realisation and finally to regret and remorse. So, while the rest of the film does absolutely everything it needs to do in telling us the story, Harker’s performance makes us feel it, and that might be the biggest achievement.

Feast is simply a buffet of delicious filmmaking accomplishments and well worth making plenty of room for.