That same kind of darkness washes like black sea foam over Joe Lawlor & Christine Molloy's film Rose Plays Julie, which screened as part of the Nightstream Festival this weekend, clinging to it like a ragged coat -- the sort of damp heavy fabric that could pull you back under if you let it. We meet Rose (Ann Skelly) standing on a sea shore, looking out towards a distant lighthouse -- later we see the same image but as a photo someone took. The film repeats this pattern -- experience seconded and memorialized; actions become objects in our hands that we can burn up if we so desire. If only living were so simple.
That Rose Plays Leslie wrestles with these ideas of forgiveness and its flip-side is a small miracle -- that it does so so thoughtfully, quietly, and with honest earnest purity of purpose, is a bigger miracle indeed. Brady and Skelly are each hypnotic in their ways as wounded creatures nudging their half-buried personhoods out of their premature graves, suddenly fervently aware of strength in numbers as they find themselves faced with somebody to pass these batons of abuse back and forth with from across their now intertwining paths. There's hope, lightness, in unburden.
Check out all of my reviews from the Nightstream Festival at this link here -- all of the films are still available to rent through Midnight tonight and I recommend you check out all you can!
Post a Comment