Rating: B
Dir: Tatu Heikkinen and Veleda Thorsson-Heikkinen.
Star: Tatu Heikkinen, John Haughm, Veleda Thorsson-Heikkinen.
I’m not going to lie. When I got an email from Tatu, and read, “The film blends atmospheric cinematography with experimental sound design, inspired by my experiences with sleep paralysis,” my reaction was: “Oh, god. This is going to be like Skinamarink, isn’t it?” It’ll be seventy minutes of staring into a corner, and going “Was that something? I think I saw something.” You’ll understand why, on that basis, it didn’t exactly shoot to the top of my pending pile. But I finally bit the bullet, and am pleased to report it really isn’t very like Skinamarink at all. Sure, “experimental” is definitely appropriate. This isn’t a film you watch, so much as one you experience.
However, it is genuinely crafted, and the obvious effort which went into this, is what separates it most clearly from Skinamarink. There is also something of a plot, though its significance declines over the course of proceedings. K (Heikkinen) returns from scattering the ashes of his late wife (Thorsson-Heikkinen, though she appears largely in photographic form). Their home is now empty. Or is it? Because it’s not long before the weirdness starts, with his home security system detecting motion on the front porch. From here… Well, this is where the film becomes increasingly divorced from objective reality. Time becomes fluid or stops entirely – there’s a great shot of a ticking clock, where the hands are going nowhere. And the photos around the house (top) are no longer a permanent record.
As you can probably tell from the reference to sleep paralysis, logic and coherence are almost entirely absent. This is the world of nightmares, where anything can happen, and the harder you try to run from it, the slower your legs move. It has to be approached in that way. I guess it is like Skinamarink, in that this viewing experience requires your full commitment. It’ll work better at 11 pm when there’s nobody else in the house, and you are entirely focused on it. This isn’t some Netflix Original you can chuck on in the background. Give it your attention, and you’ll find little moments of unexpected beauty, such as a leaf on the road changing colour as K’s car approaches and drives past.
There’s even some stop-motion animation, which plays like a Peter Gabriel video directed by Tim Burton. That’s what I mean about there being effort here: it’s not a film where the viewer is left to do all the work. Technically, and considering the budget was only $2,000, it’s a highly impressive piece of cinema. My favourite moment came near the end, when K was sitting outside with a drink, when… Well, it was the most visceral shock I’ve experienced this year, even though nothing technically happens. Interpretation as a whole though, is a different matter. You have fun with that, and intertitles like “The hidden scaffolding of the cosmos” pose more questions than they answer. The title comes from a poem by Madison Julius Cawein, and reading it, before or after viewing, might help shed light on matters. No guarantees. Just enjoy the ride.
[The film is now available on Tubi]