★★★★ Directed by: #MatthewTibbenham Written by: #SinittaMonero Starring: #JessCollett, #ChristienBartGittens, #NatalieAnnBoyd Short Film Review by: Will Girling The Morning After Etiquette is a light and breezy short film all about the pitfalls of the modern dating scene. In a cinematic universe clearly influenced by the likes of Secret Diary of a Call Girl and Fleabag, albeit without the emotional gravity that made the latter such a quantum leap, director Matthew Tibbenham’s movie pleasantly floats along atop a stream of easy jazz and witty dialogue. The result is a sugary kind of satisfaction – enjoyable yet insubstantial, which is perfectly appropriate given the subject matter: one-night stands. Newly single Rebecca (Jess Collett) finds herself suddenly in the dire straits of the casual dating scene. With the albatross of her prior relationship still hanging around her neck, she and friend Rachel (Natalie Ann Boyd) arrive at a house party and discuss the difficulty of getting back in the game of love. After a couple of embarrassing attempts at flirtation, Rebecca heads out for some fresh air and a smoke. Outside, she meets Anthony (Christien Bart-Gittens) who she just seems to ‘click’ with. It isn’t long before they both decide to ditch the party for some alone time, but is this just another fly-by-night conquest or destined to be something more? As with most stories in a similar vein, it’s absolutely crucial that the audience immediately warms to the main character as soon as possible; without a likeable actor in the role, it’s often very difficult for the audience to get swept up in the on-screen fun. Fortunately for The Morning After, Jess Collett and writer Sinitta Monero come together very agreeably in the character of Rebecca. She’s charming, beautiful and confident, yet with the subtle tension that she’s not quite as slick as she’d like to think: there’s plenty of 4th wall breaking monologues along the way, yet the self-assured ‘advice’ given to the audience usually withers the instant it is put into practice. It’s a clever and self-aware twist that keeps things fresh and prevents every encounter feeling monotonous or predictable. The only point where the writing flounders is right at the end, where Rebecca makes a controversial decision and then does a 180 within seconds. Whether this comes down to bad writing or directing is debatable: it makes the final act seem rushed and could have been remedied by either adding a short scene to account for it or by simply adjusting the scene’s pacing. In terms of its technical prowess, it’s very difficult to pick any holes in The Morning After. Tibbenham is a director demonstrably in control of the camera and always finds an interesting way to accurately capture the emotion of the moment. The gentle jazz music used throughout is crucial to setting the urbane tone and unfalteringly does so. As a piece about the peregrinations of a young woman in the city, The Morning After works effortlessly. The only thing one can say is that Fleabag broke ground by adding a tragic element to the genre’s comedic equation, something that this movie unequivocally shies away from and opts to keep things firmly on the whimsical end of the spectrum. Some may see this as an atavistic step, but when light entertainment is made to such a high standard, who cares?

An American Piano ★★ Directed by: #PaulLeeming Written by: #HamishDownie Starring: #LouOhshiba, #AdamJYeend, #JunMatsuo Film Review by: JJ Donoghue An American Piano tells a true story from World War 2-era Japan, portraying the emotional impact that this conflict had on the life of Youko Koshida and her family. Focusing on the final few months of the war, An American Piano is a compassionate, sombre short, given weight by its incorporation of actual footage of Youko playing the piano at its conclusion. The film’s opening is an exceptional, clever musing on the intrusion of violent conflict into the innocence of youth, as the childish bliss which Youku indulges in, playfully looking for shapes in the clouds, is shattered by the arrival of military planes flying overhead. The specificity of being a child and seeing familiar figures in the clouds is so relatable, so universal, that it causes you to really consider the consequences of war on those affected by it, and how we can often take safety and happiness for granted. Unfortunately, the film is unable to build effectively on this initial promise. Though An American Piano is never insincere, it quickly descends into melodrama and stereotype. It is somewhat difficult to criticise the relationship between Youku and the American soldier who is affected by her piano playing, which he can hear from his cell in a prison camp next door, because it is based on truth. However, its portrayal here feels too similar to stories which have been told before about the relationship between foreign strangers and how there is ‘more that unites us than divides us’, and it doesn’t really contribute anything original to this trope. Furthermore, the doll which plays such a pivotal role to the film’s ending seems an underdeveloped idea within the film. Though these dolls really were given to American soldiers by Youku, they aren’t given any significance at any point, which makes this climax feel confusing, and devoid of the sentimental impact it seems to be trying to create. In fact, it could be said that much of this film fails to connect emotionally. Though there is lots of sadness evident on the screen and in the unrelentingly sorrowful piano music which makes up the film’s score, this sadness is implemented in such a way that the audience feel like observers to the grief, rather than participants in it. This is because the film opts to simply bombard us with melancholy from its onset. For example, both Lou Ohshiba and Jun Matsuo seem to have been directed to be glum and tearful from the beginning of the film to the end, and the effect of this is that the scenes in which they interact become uninteresting and lack energy. We don’t get to experience any kind of change or development in these characters, which makes it hard to engage with their story as a whole. Its simply an exhibition of sadness, but a sadness which feels somewhat contrived. Thus, though An American Piano’s well-meaning intentions cannot be doubted, it is unable to portray it’s story in an emotionally compelling way.

★★★★★ Directed by: #NimaAkbarpour Written by: #NimaAkbarpour Starring: #RezaZohrehKermani, #HosainRadvarZangeneh, #AniaAssadiSabet, #MaralMohammadi, #BardiaJalali, #SalarKhosrojerdi, #ReyhanehRezazadeh, #ImanBashari Film Review by: Darren Tilby Shot like a documentary and based on actual events (although the film’s story is fictionalised), I’m Not My Body details one man’s struggle against state-sanctioned cyberattacks. Saman (Reza Zohreh Kermani), an Iranian immigrant living in the UK, moved abroad to begin a new life. He works as a news anchor on a Persian TV channel, lives with his pregnant wife, Parastoo (Ania Assadi-Sabet), and has a close circle of friends. Things could hardly be going any better. That is until he becomes the victim of a horrific and sustained attack by an anonymous party (heavily implied to be the Iranian Government). His phone camera is hacked, and naked photos are repeatedly uploaded to social media to discredit him, causing his friendships and marriage to become strained. Writer/Director, Nima Akbarpour bases his film on the personal experiences he’s had as an Iranian (technology) journalist living abroad. Having suffered such attacks himself, this is an incredibly intimate piece of filmmaking...and it shows. I’m Not My Body is overflowing with an emotional vibrancy, and the film’s cast delivers suitably powerful and heartfelt performances. While the relationship between the group of friends feels relatable and natural. Kermani is the epicentre of this emotional dissonance and gives the strongest performance in the lead role. Hardly surprising, really. But, honestly, there isn’t a bad showing anywhere to be found, and Hosain Radvar-Zangeneh (as Omid) is damn near perfect as Saman’s supportive but worried friend. Akbarpour furthers the empirical style of filmmaking by employing the use of documentary-like techniques throughout a large portion of his film. Fixed-place cameras, shaky cams, close-up shots, and off-centre framing are used with incredible efficacy by cinematographer Reza Afshar. So much so it took me a while to realise that this wasn’t, in fact, a documentary, but a fictionalised story based on actual events. This is an attestation to both the performances on display and the quality of the technical aspects of the movie. There are a few issues here and there (I think I saw one or two slight spelling mistakes in the subtitles) but honestly, these aren’t going to ruin your enjoyment of the film unless you want them to. I’m Not My Body covers much in its 25-minute runtime. As well as the main narrative, several branching stories are being told, ones you can easily miss if you don’t pay attention. Some involving Saman’s friends, extended family, and a particularly heartbreaking issue involving Parastoo (Saman’s wife). The fact that the film manages to juggle all of these different elements and conclude them naturally, in such a short amount of time, is awe-inspiring and immensely rewarding. Fantastic Iranian/British filmmaking, rife with poignancy in our age of fake news and political turmoil that deserves your attention.

★★★ Directed by: Jacob Thomas Pilgaard Written by: Jacob Thomas Pilgaard Starring: Rikke Westi, Camilla Bendix, Kasper Leisner Film Review by: Owen Herman The Casting of an Innocent Woman, a new Danish short from writer-director Jacob Thomas Pilgaard, looks to explore the casting process in the context of the horrors that have been revealed in recent years. Rikke Westi plays Sarah, a young woman auditioning for a big role. Things seem to be going smoothly until an aggressive producer (Camilla Bendix) steps in and attempts to push Sarah out of her comfort zone. The short plays out as a war of words, with the producer, Annette, pushing and probing Sarah. Both characters build their attacks through stories that have implied meaning, before revealing the true nature of what they want by removing the disguises of euphemism. At its best, this short reminded me of 2019’s phenomenal conversation-based thriller Luce, which also saw characters probing each other in attempts to find the other’s motivation while hiding their own. Rikke Westi and Camilla Bendix deliver strong performances which allow the dialogue to shine. However, this dialogue focus does lead to a lack of visual interest. While the actors are great to watch, there is little else of interest going on in the short. While this isn’t necessarily bad - there are thrills to be had as the conversation takes its twists and turns - it does mean that the short fails to make the most of the medium, and it does feel like a missed opportunity. Another missed opportunity is the score, created by Thorsten Bæk and Henrik Engstrøm. The score itself is terrific, and really nails the tone of the short. However, in the context of the film it feels overbearing and over-dramatic. The conversation that the film centres around is one that should be played with subtlety to really get the spine-chilling effects of its content, but here it is overshadowed by a score that is noticeably unsubtle. The is also an issue with the film’s questionable nastiness. The Casting of an Innocent Woman is trying to be relevant to the issues of today and succeeds, giving the film a dark and nasty tone. However, as the short reaches its conclusion Pilgaard pushes the story too far and delivers a mixed message that feels too unpleasant. The final moments feel as if the film is almost accepting the horror it is trying to expose. Pilgaard has certainly succeeded in making a gripping thriller, however there are many flaws within his contemporary drama. A promising film that could’ve been something more.

★★★ Directed by: Aamir Qureshi Written by: Amir Qureshi Starring: Sohail Sameer Amie Khan Faheem Abbas Sherjeel Shaikh Film Review by: Alfie Kaye Gullak – The Money pot is a short film directed by Aamir Qureshi depicting a hard-working father (Sameer) striving to pay for the best education possible for his talented son. When his strenuous job as a traffic constable in the humid heat of Pakistan takes its toll on his health, he is faced with the harsh decision of paying for the betterment of his health or his son’s private education. Gullak is not a short film of grandeur, or even ostensible style. Instead, it is a very resourceful short that uses scenery and setting to highlight socio-economic inequality and strain; busy, overpopulated roads with the glaring sun and tall skyscrapers in the background often form the backdrop of lengthy sequences of Sammer’s character physically and mentally suffering in the humid heat, carrying out his arduous profession. Elsewhere, the modest one-room apartment where the family live consisting of the kitchen, bedroom and dining area further highlights their social deprivation and is a key location used regularly in the film. The performances are strong. Most of the film rests on the shoulders of Sameer who manages to bring enough realism to his physical struggles, but never truly convinces me of his implicit pain and conflict. Amie Khan plays the extremely domesticated wife and mother, whose role unfortunately never extends beyond her cooking the ‘oily food’ we are told is responsible for her husband’s poor health, and looking after their son. However, she shows promise in a role with uncomfortable limitations. The film threatens to be both poor and brilliant, so, inevitably, falls somewhere in the middle: satisfactory. The screenplay feels contrived at times, but is spontaneous and natural, elsewhere; the score fails to elevate the emotion in the scene but does not take you out of the scene, or diminish it, either; and the first half of the short pulls you in dramatically, however, the second half fails to replicate the visceral effect of the first. The film works better when it’s depicting socio-political turmoil that exists within the country, as opposed to an exploration of personal crisis and grief. Whilst Qureshi would argue they are compatible with one another, and both necessary to reinforce the predicament the lead character is in, the short largely falls flat in depicting that inner turmoil.

★★★★★ Directed by: #JohnPilger Written by: #JohnPilger Starring: #JohnPilger, et al. Film Review written by: Amber Jackson “Trust us” Documentary veteran John Pilger’s new documentary exposes a reality of the NHS that has been previously overlooked or concealed. Presented by Dartmouth Films, The Dirty War on the NHS is a fascinating tribute to a service that is suffering as it is slowly being dismantled by insurance-based companies. Pilger delves into his own investigation of the UKs beloved National Health Service, providing his audience with harrowing insight into what the future of UK healthcare could become. The film begins with the interweaving of archival footage from the years up until the introduction of the NHS in 1948. Mass poverty, a high infant mortality rate, rampant disease and a class-based healthcare system meant that the public need for medicine sparked the first ever national healthcare system that provided freedom from fear to everyday working people. It was the first of its kind and an inspiration for countries across the world. Pilger’s film is a warning that this public good could be lost. What this documentary does differently is that it brings us more up-to-date with healthcare. Candid interviews and discussions with doctors and nurses, both past and present, expose a reality of profit extraction, as market systems and insurance-based companies see the NHS as a financial opportunity, rather than a system of care. Pilger reveals that in 2019, more of the NHS was sold off to private companies than ever before and those within the film shed light on the negative implications of this. Those that share their personal stories do so with such grace and emotion, it is devastating to consider the individual impact. Empathy is the real take-away of each account, with everyday hard-working people being the forerunners of this piece. Pilger creates a window into these people’s lives, allowing them to explain their own narrative, without politics or agenda. The implication is clear – that this could happen to you, the audience, too. Hard-hitting reality infringes upon every scene, from fears of the NHS becoming a ‘basic service,’ to the impact on patient care when private companies that take over hospitals. The belief is that not enough is being done by those in authority to combat this ‘playing God’ mind-set. Yet, Pilger’s film is politically relevant without being too political. His focus on personal stories and individual impact is incredibly eye-opening and essential viewing at a crucial ‘tipping-point’ in UK politics. Interestingly enough, the one part of the conversation that is not featured in this documentary is Brexit. However, this proves more effective for audiences, as Pilger encourages us to decide for ourselves what we value, based on the facts that he – and his interviewees – provide. This is a powerful and relevant investigation into national love for the NHS and the desire to see it continue to thrive, instead of diminish. John Pilger has yet again has mastered film-making in forcing his audiences to be part of a necessary conversation and not shy away from reality. The Dirty War on the NHSis in cinemas now. #AmberJackson

★★★★ Directed by: #JonathanHawes Written by: Jonathan Hawes Starring: #CharlotteHandley, #DannyPatrick Short Film Review by: Corey Bulloch A well constructed little drama with a pretty surprising twist, Jonathan Hawes’ film is able to shock audiences in the short amount of time they spend with the characters. The majority of the film revolves around a couple Holly and Nick portrayed by Charlotte Handley and Danny Patrick in their car discussing the death of their pet 'Pete'. Lulling the audience into a false sense of security, Hawes who also served as cinematographer keeps the visuals to a few simple recurring camera angles. Nothing flashy to the style of Pete, very muted colouring but the sound mix does have some noticeable distortions that break some audience engagement. Pete revolves entirely on the performances with Handley and Patrick successfully deceiving the audience through only a few lines of dialogue. Most of the film is disarming, from the way Hawes frames his characters to the friendliness and sincerity of the characters that you don’t expect that anything sinister is afoot. The devil is in the details and its a testament to Hawes script that Holly and Nick’s dialogue takes on new disturbing contexts upon an immediate vital rewatch. Handley and Patrick work well against one another, keeping their scene within the car at an exceptional level of convincing mundanity. Their conversation consists of brief notions of grief, memory and acceptance and teases at subtle nuances in the relationship without revealing the film’s hand too early. When the secret behind Pete is revealed, Handley and Patrick do divulge in a bit of theatrics but its well deserved as they are key to misleading the audience with only a few lines of dialogue. With Hawes’ simple camera work and script, nothing about the film’s reveals feel out of place, it is an effective subterfuge between filmmaker and audience. Due to the very short runtime, the film is proficient in making the bare minimum work to maximum effect, two actors talking in a car is usually an easy cop-out for low budget filmmakers. However, Hawes’ approach to this story makes it work as it is a clean ‘get in and get out’ approach, no filler, no waffle, and it's over before the audience becomes underwhelmed by the lack of production value. Short, sweet and to the point in a way that doesn’t waste a second of the audience’s time, Pete is a well written and edited piece from Jonathan Hawes. You get everything you need so quickly that you want to watch it all over again to pick apart the hidden clues, it may feel like a one-trick pony but with a film this short, one trick is all you need. #CoreyBulloch #ShortFilm

★★★★ Directed by #PeterStrickland Written by #PeterStrickland Starring #MarianneJeanBaptiste #FatmaMohamed #LeoBill Film Review by Hope Madden My last note after watching In Fabric: “Well, that was weird.” Weird in a good way. Nobody blends giallo’s surrealistic seduction with dry British wit (two elements that, to be honest, should not fit together at all) like Peter Strickland. Subversive and playful while boasting a meticulous obsession with the exploitation films of the Seventies, Strickland creates vintage-futuristic fantasies that live outside of time and evoke both nostalgia and wonder. His latest follows a red Ambassadorial Function Dress and the havoc it wreaks on its wearers. This sounds like Yong-gyun Kim’s 2005 Japanese horror The Red Shoes, but Strickland has something far less sensible, less predictable, and more memorable in store for you.  (Quick PSA: If you can be less sensible than a Japanese ghost story horror and still make a watchable, even fascinating, film, you are at the top of your game.) We meet Sheila (Marianne Jean-Baptiste), lonely fiftysomething bank teller just finding her way back into the dating pool and in need of a new dress. She heads, during sales season, to Dentley & Soper, where a coven of sales women led by Strickland favorite Fatma Mohamed (she owns this movie) will do what they can to usher clients toward a “transaction of ecstasy.” The dress, a “a double dream, diamond wrapped,” says the catalog, is “body sensual, captivating, candlelight glances, canape conversations.” This heightened perfume-ad speak also spills from the department store sales women—each a cross between a Victorian witch and a mannequin—hinting at the fetishistic nature of the entire film. Strickland, apparently, is about as fond of consumerism as Romero or Cronenberg. He’s also as fond of the color red as Argento. Unlike the giallo films that clearly inform Strickland’s aesthetic, here commerce, not violence itself, is the seductive, sexualized element. Sheila is a good egg waiting to crack played with working class grace by Jean-Baptiste (Secrets and Lies). In the tradition of the genre, we root that good egg Sheila will somehow outwit the killer dress her saleswitch conned her into purchasing. Sheila’s story represents the first half of In Fabric, a peculiar but somewhat straightforward horror film. At the film’s halfway mark, Strickland makes a quick left turn into full blown absurdity, which awaits you in the second half. Not a frame, not a glance, not a bizarre line of dialog is wasted or misplaced in a bold vision that’s stylized nearly to death. In a good way. Strickland’s audacious anti-consumerism fantasy must be seen to be believed. #HopeMadden

★★★★ Directed by #JenniferReeder Written by #JenniferReeder Starring #MarikaEnglehardt #GraceSmith #TyOlwin #KateArrington Film Review by Hope Madden Falling somewhere between David Lynch and Anna Biller in the under-charted area where the boldly surreal meets the colorfully feminist, writer/director Jennifer Reeder’s Knives and Skin offers a hypnotic look at Midwestern high school life. When Carolyn Harper (Raven Whitley) goes missing, carefully erected false fronts start crumbling all over town. Cheerleaders take a harder look at football players. Football players cry in their Mustangs. Goth girls fondle pink dresses. Pregnant waitresses bleed at the kitchen sink. And everyone sings impossibly appropriate Eighties alt hits acapella. Even the dead. Knives and Skin’s pulpy noir package lets Reeder explore what it means to navigate the world as a female. As tempting as it is to pigeonhole the film as Lynchian, Reeder’s metaphors, while fluid and eccentric, are far more pointed than anything you’ll find in Twin Peaks. She looks at relationships between mothers and daughters, as daughters toe the line between acceptable and unacceptable levels of conformity and mothers bear the toll exacted by years of fitting in. Reeder blurs that line between popularity and ostracism, characters finding common ground as they address the question: Are you a whore or a tease? The ire is not one-dimensional. Though toxic masculinity requires a price, the males in Middle River, even the worst among them, are as sympathetic and as damaged by expectations as anybody. Reeder’s peculiar dialogue finds its ideal voice with Grace Smith as Joanna Kitzmiller, a jaded feminist and budding entrepreneur. Likewise, Marika Englehardt and Tim Hopper bring extraordinary nuance and sympathy to what could have been campy characters. This cockeyed lens for the middle American pressure cooker that is high school suggests exhilarating possibilities, but does so with a melancholy absurdity that recognizes the impossibility of it all. And in the end, all the Middle River Beavers stare longingly at the highway that leads out of town. #HopeMadden

★★★ Directed by #ToddHaynes Written by #MatthewMichaelCarnahan #MarioCorrea Starring #MarkRuffalo #AnneHathaway #BillCamp Film Review by #HopeMadden Todd Haynes hasn’t written one of his own films since 2007’s I’m Not There, a biopic that refuses to fit neatly into that genre (making it a perfect fit for its subject). The director’s collaboration with other writers has been both sublime (Carol) and spotty (Wonderstruck), the content sometimes feeling as if it simply is a mismatch for his own often gorgeously subversive vision. So, yes, it’s a bit of a shock to witness the filmmaker who depicted Karen Carpenter’s battle with anorexia via Barbie dolls (Superstar: The Karen Carpenter Story) tackle the blue collar true story of a corporate defense attorney who grows a conscience and hits DuPont Chemical where it hurts the most. Shooting again in southern and central Ohio, Haynes turns in the buttery glamour of Carol for a grimmer image of America. Dark Waters sees Mark Ruffalo as Robert Bilott, a good guy who also happens to be a corporate lawyer. I guess he’s proof those two concepts need not be mutually exclusive. A keep-your-head-down kind of colleague, Bilott is confronted at work by a friend of his grandmother back home, a curmudgeonly West Virgina farmer (Bill Camp) who is offering VHS proof that his cows are being poisoned. The corporate lawyer in Bilott wants to ignore this problem. The salt-of-the-earth Midwesterner in him cannot. Few actors play the scrupulous good guy as reliably or believably as Ruffalo, who leads the film with a quiet, fragile dignity. Anne Hathaway co-stars as Bilott’s conflicted wife Sarah. It’s a small and somewhat thankless role for the Oscar winner, but she gives it some meat and, better still, a much needed edge that strengthens the film. She’s not alone. William Jackson Harper (Midsommar) continues to prove that he’s really good at playing a dick. Meanwhile, veteran “that guy” Camp offers a perfectly off-putting, guttural performance. A number of other sharp turns in small roles, including those by Tim Robbins, Bill Pullman, Mare Winningham and Victor Garber, help Haynes shade and shadow what could easily have become a paint-by-numbers eco-terror biopic. He can’t entirely break free, though, and Dark Waters in the end—however stirring, informative and timely the tale—feels far too safe to be a Todd Haynes film. #HopeMadden

★★★ Directed by #AdamEgyptMortimer Written by #BrianDeLeeuw Starring #MilesRobbins #PatrickSchwarzenegger #SahsaLane Film Review by Hope Madden Director Adam Egypt Mortimer’s stylish image of mental illness takes a kind of demonic Fight Club angle, hits some mildly homoerotic notes (like Fight Club didn’t?), and offers a quick and absorbing- if hardly new- horror show. Co-writing with Brian DeLeeuw an adaptation of DeLeeuw’s novel In This Way I Was Saved, Mortimer drops us mid-mom scream into an average afternoon in the life of poor little Luke (Griffin Robert Faulkner, painfully adorable). As Luke wanders away from home to avoid his mother’s psychotic episode, he witnesses the aftermath of a gruesome murder, but finds a new friend: Daniel. Quickly enough, Daniel is helping Luke cope with his personal trauma, taking his mind off his problems, and maybe encouraging some truly evil behavior. From here Mortimer directs us to an effectively creepy doll house (such a great prop in nearly any terrifying film or terrifying child’s bedroom), which will become (as it does in Hereditary and The Lodge) a fine symbol for the madness of the mind. Mortimer’s film looks great and benefits from a trio of strong performances. Mary Stuart Masterson, playing Luke’s paranoid schizophrenic mother, gives a brave and believable performance in a role that can easily be overdone. More importantly, Mortimer’s besties/worsties Luke and Daniel (Miles Robbins and Patrick Schwarzenegger, respectively) create complete characters and offer an uneasy chemistry that keeps the film intriguing. As Luke’s life spins inevitably out of control, Daniel’s clothing takes on a more and more Tyler Durden style, and I can get behind that. And a certain point near Act 3, Daniel Isn’t Real takes a weird and welcome Clive Barker turn, which is when elements stop being so stylishly predictable and become sloppily fascinating. The unfortunate Magical Negro trope that will not die surfaces here. It doesn’t entirely sink the film, but it does its damndest to do just that. Even so, Daniel Isn’t Real is an Olympic-sized leap forward from Mortimer’s previous feature, Some Kind of Hate, the director here showcasing an unpredicted visual flair and storytelling finesse. Though his film treads some well-worn ground, the way Mortimer and team balance the supernatural and psychological push and pull creates an unnerving atmosphere. #HopeMadden

★★★ Directed by #JordanDowney Written by #KevinStewart #JordanDowney Starring #ChristopherRygh Film Review by Hope Madden In a land of yore, the geography forbidding, a far off trumpet calls for the hardiest of warriors—those equipped to fight beasts. Director Jordan Downey shows much and tells little in his nearly wordless medieval fantasy, The Head Hunter. The filmmaker parses out all the information you’ll need to follow this simple vengeance myth, but pay attention. Very little in this film is without meaning—no creepy image, no creak or slam. In what is essentially a one man show, Christopher Rygh delivers a quiet, brooding performance for a quiet, brooding film. He cuts an impressive figure as the Vikingesque warrior at the center of this adventure and his work speaks of joyless endurance. He answers the call of the trumpet. He fights monsters. He collects heads, which he spikes to the wall of his isolated cabin. The festering stench that must waft from this place! The action takes place almost entirely off screen, which is clearly one way for Downey to keep costs down, but it does allow you to focus on a different part of the story. By denying viewers the release of battle victory, we get nothing but the anxiety of the preparations and the pain – physical and emotional – of the aftermath. A prime example of making your limitations work for you, Downey’s confident direction and strong storytelling instincts draw your attention not to the physical horror of battle but to the emotional horror of this existence. Kevin Stewart’s cinematography gorgeously creates the mythical brutality of the land. Eric Wegener’s sound design is almost equally impressive, from the drip and splash of gore to the crackle of a flame to the clank of armor as well as the more ghastly, hypnotic sounds of the otherworld so savagely interrupting this one. With so much to experience and so little to tell you what you’re seeing, the team effort is required and it pays off. It’s a far cry from the filmmaker’s most famous effort, 2009’s ThanksKilling (an annual seasonal indulgence for a small segment of us). The only thing you’ll find in common between the two films is Downey’s inspired use of practical effects—another element that helps his bold and memorable effort stand out from the pack. #HopeMadden