Writer-director duo Noah Stratton-Twine and Jake Kuhn have a clear affection for low-grade horror shlock from the 40s and 50s, and The Peril at Pincer Point does its best to evoke those films’ aesthetics. The square aspect ratio and sepia color grading (courtesy of cinematographer Murray Zev Cohen) certainly shares the same look as films like The Black Scorpion or The Lighthouse, but its story is more visceral and languidly paced than a genuine creature feature. Those seeking the former will be slightly disappointed, but those invested in a character study of a man slowly losing his mind and his identity could find enough entertainment value.
Jim (Jack Redmayne) is a sound recordist desperate to prove his worth to the pretentious director P.W. Griffin (Os Leanse) of an upcoming monster movie involving a giant, talking crab. So he’s sent to the titular Pincer Point, an island with enough legends and spooky stories to capture his curiosity. Naturally, he becomes too invested in the folklore, and starts losing sight of what’s reality versus fiction. The Peril at Pincer Point ends up being a film that’s not terribly captivating, but it’s an impressive bit of filmmaking for what was surely a low budget affair. Stratton-Twine and Kuhn deserve their flowers for an original take on the horrors of the production process, especially for those under-sung crew members who nobody knows on a first-name basis but are just as vital in creating the films we love.
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The first time we see her, Lily (Chynna Marie Walker) has hit rock bottom. Her boyfriend of four years has unexpectedly broken up with her, and she’s been laid off from her job. And so, with little else to do and no other prospects, she signs up to attend Genevieve’s Garden, a wellness retreat hosted by the titular middle-grade influencer (Laura Hetherington). Writer-director-editor Katie Colosimo takes some easy potshots at Genevieve, and the wellness influencer culture writ large, but the film works better when it explores Lily and her search for an identity.
Naturally, Genevieve’s retreat is just an aimless weekend populated by similarly aimless weirdos with the occasional yoga sessions and “mental health exercises” thrown in. Colosimo has a knack for writing realistically-rendered characters, like Max (Giovani Naarendorp), who throws out a humble-brag about various celebrities he’s met and world vistas he’s lived or work at throughout his young life. There’s Olivia (Hannah Marianetti), a nihilist who seems to share no interest in wellness or making friends. But Lily is mostly drawn to Charlie (Jose Duran), a hunky but empty husk of a man, and she quickly begins crushing on him. Walker, who’s worked with Colosimo on short films before, is perfectly dialed in as a woman who is looking for a greater purpose in all the wrong places, and Duran works just as well as a romantic foil for Lily. As it stands, Genevieve’s Garden exists as a solid statement on relationships from Colosimo, and one hopes she has more to say on the matter going forward.
In Spite of Ourselves is one of those indie movies which pops up at seemingly every regional film festival, year after year. Writer-director Josh Loeb’s feature debut rom-com about mismatched misfits hits all the familiar beats of the genre, with a requisite side of quirk, but it does enough to get by. This isn’t a death-knell, per se, as there’s plenty of charming moments and performances. Hannah (Conor Leslie) is a Portland-based baker, and Archie (Brett Dier) is a self-destructive stand-up comedian. They Meet Cute at the bakery where she works, and quickly fall for one another, but their own insecurities prevent them from growing any closer.
Loeb has a firm grasp on Hannah and Archie, making them feel like real, complicated people. But the plot beats of In Spite of Ourselves feel overwritten in ways that leaves the viewer questioning why something is happening, beyond “because it needed to.” We learn that Hannah suffers from hearing loss in one ear and is considering corrective surgery, but she’s afraid of its potential complications. We learn that Archie’s only remaining family is his father, in the throes of dementia, which puts his stand-up career in doubt. There’s nothing terribly objectionable here, and Dier and Leslie give needed depth to their characters when the story fails them. As a directorial debut, In Spite of Ourselves is a solid introduction, a hopeful indication that Loeb can make bigger and better things.
