“Dirty Books”- (Short Film Review)

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By Andrew Buckner
Rating: ***** out of *****.

Director and co-writer Zachary Lapierre’s sixteen minute short, “Dirty Books”, released through Fitch Fort Films, tackles the matter of the death of the printed word in an outright, yet sincere, heartfelt manner. It is one that succeeds ravishingly as an illustration of naturalism, humor and insight. The composition is consistently entertaining yet, meditative. Moreover, Lapierre finds a way to earn our emotions genuinely, without ever manipulating them. He finds an incredible balance between a tone that is pleasant, down to earth and upbeat, perfect for its more light-hearted instances, and an underlying somberness that makes its argument all the more dire. This creates the perfect stage for the wonderful, and relatable, message held in its central theme. Such is also reflected, in many ways and attitudes, in the title itself. This massive cinematic achievement speaks to its audience without ever appearing preachy or as if it is negating storytelling to do so.

What also works in its favor is that the manner in which the chronicle unfolds is appropriately breezy and direct. It mirrors various teenage angst classics from mid-1980, namely The Breakfast Club and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, but feels distinctly like its own entity. Furthermore, it triumphantly accomplishes this without giving into its wisely planted gags and comic undertones to the point that it takes away from the dramatic forefront. Because of this it never negates its sharp focus on serious characters and characterization, as well as the gravity of the subject matter. Lapierre walks a delicate line between these genres effortlessly. This is done so deftly and with such care that its gentle respect for both areas it categorizes itself within is worthy of envy. It also, in turn, makes the composition all the more varied and dimensional.

The narrative oversees David Burroughs (Noah Bailey) creating fiction and selling it as truth. This dishonesty revolves around pornographic pictures being placed by an enigmatic individual in an unspecified book in the school library. It is done to save his newspaper, for which he is both publisher and editor-in-chief, from being turned into an online blog by the end of the year. Given that the newsprint’s most intriguing tales in the past few weeks have been “retiring faculty and changes to the fitness curriculum”, as we learn early on, he comes to believe that this deception will be the spark which catches the fiery interests of all of his peers. In turn, Burroughs thinks that this will appeal to classmates and will, alternately, make Dr. Bradley (Timothy J. Cox) change his mind about the upcoming transition from page to screen. What Burroughs doesn’t expect is how this fabrication will modify his own life as well as those around him. This is when this pleasing production turns to another timely topic, which it addresses with the same quiet potency as its prime focus. This is the extent one will go for fame, notoriety and to be remembered. These concerns undoubtedly summon great emotion. The piece ends on a staggering exclamatory note that recalls these elements magnificently.

As a cinephile the high-caliber performances, especially Timothy J. Cox’s phenomenal and sophisticated turn as Dr. Bradley, helped make this an immediately absorbing watch. This is heightened by Noah Bailey’s alternately vulnerable, relatable and quietly empowering turn as the rebellious protagonist. These aspects, especially the palpable and combative chemistry between the two in the attention-garnering opening segment, where Burroughs is informed that he is “being shut down”, drew me in immediately. It made the on-screen personalities all the more rich, multi-layered, likable and alive. Ansley Berg as the sports writer, Charlotte, and Isaiah Lapierre as Owens are superb. The rest of the cast fares just as spectacularly.

What also enticed me in the aforementioned manner is that Lapierre exhibits consistently confident, and incredible, direction. The smart screenplay he has crafted with Ian Everhart, who also provides the appropriately fantastic and gratifyingly tone-setting cinematography, as well as the smooth pace and the seamless editing by Michael Kutsch made the endeavor all the more captivating. This is further aided by Megan Provencial’s vibrant graphic design. Lapierre, who also contributed the delightful sound on display, has issued music which catches the essence of the account just as phenomenally as these aforementioned attributes. These stellar characteristics come together beautifully. They assist in the creation of a labor of love that is both urgent and endearing, gorgeous in what is on the surface as well as beneath it.

But, the narrative, especially the fight David wages against the powers that be was riveting, enabling even, to me as a writer. It is an eternal issue that is presented here in a fresh, vigorous, innovative way. This brilliant approach made it easy for me to cheer for David as he combats authority, while admiring the care put into all technical aspects of the composition. The result is overwhelmingly effective. Lapierre has undoubtedly crafted a timeless masterpiece. In the space of a brief runtime, Lapierre and his moviemaking crew have concocted a terrific, charming and pensive exertion. It is one that will speak to audiences of all ages as it showcases the price one must often pay for both their treacheries and their passions. This is a lesson, a message that we all must be reminded of every now and again. “Dirty Books” does this, and much more, marvelously well.

You can check out Fitch Fort Films’ Facebook page here.

The I.M.D.B. page for “Dirty Books” can be seen here.

“The Witch”- (Movie Review)

By Andrew Buckner

Rating: ****1/2 out of *****.

The Witch, from first time feature director Robert Eggers, is that increasingly uncommon, and boldly unconventional, horror feature that sets its sights far beyond simple jump scares and the genre’s various tired recycled staples of fright. Instead, it is out to coil gradually beneath your skin, burrow itself into your imagination and linger there for an extended period; long after its ninety-three minute runtime is far behind you. Eggers takes the long exhausted topics of possession, necromancy, religious persecution and fear of the unknown and transforms them into a composition of endless magnificence. He appears doggedly determined to go out of his way to deliver these well-worn topics into a succession of riveting sequenceso that is, not only as believable as possible, but, unlike anything we’ve seen before.

Backed by powerhouse performances, immaculate attention to the dress (courtesy of Linda Muir’s immaculate costume design), dialogue and demeanor of its circa 1630 period detail: Eggers has crafted an instant genre classic; one where the term ‘unnerving’ and ‘spine-chilling’ seems custom made to describe its lasting impression. What is just as extraordinary is that Eggers, who also wrote the meticulously erected screenplay, delivers a slow-burn thriller whose pace only heightens the suspense to almost unbearable levels while being both confident and intelligent. The effort never talks down to its audience or goes outside the confines of what would logically occur within the narrative for an unearned scream. That, in itself, makes this more than worthy of a recommendation. Moreover, it looks and feels wonderfully old-fashioned. This cinematic experience brings to mind timeless terror masterpieces, most notably Stanley Kubrick’s 1980 magnum opus The Shining (which Eggers declared was a great inspiration for the piece), while appearing fresh and wholly original. The similarities are remarkably evident in both Mark Koven’s brilliantly sparse orchestral score, Louise Ford’s seamless film editing and Jarin Blaschke’s ominous, eerie and elegiac cinematography. This results in a tremendous achievement; one that is exceptionally well-done on all accounts.

Eggers’ extraordinarily mounted and intense “New England folktale”, as the opening informs us and which we uncover immediately before the end credits has portions taken directly from the diaries of 17th Century Puritans, can be seen as a precursor to the religious fervor of The Salem Witch Trials. This occurred sixty-two years after the chronicle takes flight. To accomplish this goal Eggers has constructed a piece which concerns a family who is made to leave a plantation because of the father, William (in a portrayal by Ralph Ineson that is passionate and commanding), and his severe biblical interpretation. Later, the group of seven settles down to build a new life. They construct a home with a barn in front of a strangely brooding and deeply-reaching wooded expanse. Soon William and his children seem drawn to the region and find themselves making up excuses to explore its recesses. Almost immediately afterward a series of unearthly events begin to build. These are all surrounding the forest and the strange acting animals within and around it.

The unconsecrated sensibility emanating from the area becomes all the more palpable when the youngest child, in an effectually staged first act sequence, vanishes during a game of peak-a-boo with oldest daughter, Thomasin (in a depiction by Anya Taylor-Joy which is as gripping, varied and alive as the striking images Eggers puts on-screen). The mother, Katherine (in an enactment by Kate Dickie that is successfully accomplishes turns of vulnerability and outright danger masterfully), and William are understandably grief-stricken. Caleb (Harvey Scrimshaw) and twins Mercy (Ellie Grainger) and Jonas (Lucas Dawson), all of whom are wonderfully and uncannily played, seem to either be dealing with the loss in their own way or strangely removed from the situation altogether. Soon the presence of evil, which becomes pinpointed to a scene-stealing goat named Black Phillip, who is rumored to talk to Mercy and Jonas, grows. This existence of a malicious entity continues to steadily make itself known. Such disturbing goings-on progressively transpires until the clan is pitted against one another. From herein, the word ‘witch’ is hurled to practically everyone involved. This is distributed with increasing rapidity as the wickedness takes over.

The feature is a triumphant combination of both drama and visceral gothic horror. Most importantly, it avoids the clichés of the genre at nearly every turn. A large part of the success of this exertion derives from the factor that Eggers treats nearly every personality we encounter on-screen as if they are the lead of the tale, especially in the beginning  thirty-five minutes. Eggers builds his characters with the patience of a work by Ingmar Bergman and, simultaneously, finds the way to craft moments of menace that are sly and quietly intimidating. This balance is evoked so seamlessly that it makes the increasingly accruing evil appear all the more authentic. Initial scenes involving a rabbit with an unnerving stare, though it is initially difficult to declare exactly why it produces such an outcome, is initial proof of how meritoriously this blend of real-life and the unholy is accomplished. Often the terror is carved, just as masterfully as the more obvious jolts, from extended periods of unsettling silence.

There are moments, mostly reserved for the first and last ten minutes, which also brought to my mind thoughts of F.W. Murnau’s ground-breaking, expressionistic approach in his silent 1922 vampire masterpiece, Nosferatu. This duration also contains a sense of the abstract quality and rhythms of David Lynch’s 1977 avant-garde classic, Eraserhead. In these early and late sections, Eggers showcases terror sequences at his most grimly poetic and evidently visceral. Though these are obviously designed to chill your blood and stay with you, and they certainly achieve their intended consequence, these more obvious attempts at trepidation are just as victorious as the more subtle anxiety setting starts that take up the bulk of the picture. Moreover, Eggers never betrays the Kubrickian catalyst flowing throughout the endeavor. The result is a big-screen endeavor which commences brilliantly, grabs our attention and continues to defy our expectations just as smartly until its appropriately understated conclusion. The Witch works so well because it leaves just enough to get our imagination to fill in the blanks while it tosses one beautifully macabre image after another our way. This is an incredible feat, made all the more plausible due to the always believable credible contribution from both Luc Benning’s special and Andrew Alzner’s visual effects team, that Eggers pulls off without a hitch.

There are many other terrific technical attributes which make this endeavor such a one of a kind marvel. Christopher Guglick, Jason Perriera, Adam Stein, Orest Sushko and Robert Turi’s influence in the sound department is terrific. Mary Kirkland has issued tremendous set decoration, which only adds to the painstaking period authenticity present. The make-up department, credited to Francois Dagenais and seven others, does excellent work. These consistently high-quality markers help illuminate all that radiates from the screen and make the overall effort all the more immersive.

Eggers’ intentions with this project, besides scaring the hell out of us, was to understand the spiritual mania of the era and, alternately, give us a precursor to The Salem Witch Trials. Because the individuals here are so well-honed, and he elicits such concern for them, we understand William’s actions as he accuses those around him of witchcraft. Yet, we are just as sympathetic of those who are the indicted. In so doing, we often wonder if he is handling himself in such a manner as to cover up his own personal dabbling in such a field. This is because the production, true to the tradition of the best terror endeavors, effortlessly transports us inside the mind of those the tale follows. The spectacularly constructed shocks are all the more potent because Eggers and company dare to do what few horror features wish to do nowadays. This is gaze far beyond the surface and into the beating heart of those involved. Such is one of the primary reasons The Witch is so uncommonly effective. It is guaranteed to remain a favorite for both genre and art-house aficionados for years to come.

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“Nihan: The Last Page”- (Short Film Review)

By Andrew Buckner

Rating: ***** out of *****.

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“Nihan: The Last Page” is an evocative, elegiac and enigmatic fourteen minute dramatic short, released through Angry Student Productions and directed with an impeccably masterful eye for communicating emotion through both sight and sound by Tofiq Rzayev. It is one which is achingly beautiful. This is true in both its plot, symbolism and execution. It addresses the wrenching transition from clinging to a painful loss, unable to let go because of the agony associated with saying farewell to a loved one, to the early stages of acceptance spectacularly well. This expressive turmoil the piece accomplishes with endless sincerity and maturity. It also elucidates an understated tone that is perfect for the material. These aforementioned characteristics are unveiled in the gorgeously honed performances. They are also erected mesmerizingly from both Rzayev’s dark, moody and glorious cinematography and smoothly fashioned editing.

The somber luster illustrated within this endeavor not only helps set the contemplative tone of the piece instantly but, also works terrifically with the sounds of an unseen storm raging off-screen. This occurs in its opening four and closing three minutes. It not only adds to the poetic sensibilities so meticulously woven throughout the endeavor but, it also evokes an intimate extension of the inner-turmoil welling within the lead of the narrative, The Man (a portrayal by Erhan Sancar that is as brilliant and riveting as Rzayev and Mustafa Erdogan Ulgur’s spectacularly crafted screenplay demands). The piece holds onto the sentimental impact it ruminates from these early instances and sharpens them greatly throughout the sparse runtime. This, along with the meticulous and stunning craftsmanship that has obviously gone into conjuring this impression, results in a composition that resonates constant endless quiet and pensive power. These merits exist on all technical and storytelling levels. Its potent effects linger with you long after its ethereal and gripping conclusion.

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This multi-layered and absorbing endeavor concerns the gentle, and previously stated, chief individual. He is on the final sheet of a volume he is penning about his deceased love, Nihan (an enactment by Sevgi Uchgayabashi, who is also credited with the original idea for this phenomenal effort, which is fittingly tender and transcendent in equal doses). The book addresses the life the two lived together, as well as their ambitions as a couple. Hearing Nihan’s tender voice from behind him, an incident which transpires on both occasions the turbulent weather is heard raging to heighten the already overwhelming emblematic and demonstrative effect, The Man fights to finish the task at hand. But, as he speaks to Sister (an outstanding depiction by Alsen Buse Aydin), as he does in the riveting mid-section sequence of this brief bit of cinema, we learn that the house once held the promise of fulfilling the numerous desires he is currently writing about. This, along with putting the romantic rapport behind him, coerces a realization that the home, as much as actual association, could be the largest obstacles present in ending his literary effort. The protagonist’s problems become all the more immediate, in both their need to be addressed and resolved, when The Man finds out that Nihan’s wishes were unwittingly disrespected. This arises when he uncovers that others will soon be moving in to the once joyous domicile.

The storyline is undoubtedly thoughtful, soul-stirring and heart-tugging. Furthermore, the sign evident in the final page, and this being aligned along the completion of an ardent affiliation cut short before it could take root, presents various layers of allegory and depth in itself. Yet, Rzayev and his filmmaking crew find a way to bring these numerous inner-meanings to the surface. Such is issued with a consistently stunning allure. This is astonishing, as it is always formulated in a fresh and continually sophisticated manner.

What is all the more impressive is that the tale continously utilizes a dependably smooth, steady pace. It is one that never impresses upon the mind the idea of being anything less than the movement of life itself as we, the audience, watch it unfold before us. There is a natural progression to the proceedings which allows both engaging character-development and the necessary notes of melancholy and personal growth to take front stage without feeling either too gradual or rushed. This is achieved in a way that is striking and, simultaneously, makes the pain The Man is suffering all the more accessible to every viewer. Such makes the high sensitivity flowing throughout the affair all the more illustrious and impactful. Gergo Elekes’ luminous and memorable music, Busra Ozturk’s outstanding make-up and the sleek art direction by Zhivko Petrov only further punctuate these already palpable attributes. This results in an absolute masterpiece of short cinema; one of the most fully feeling configurations of its ilk that I have witnessed in quite some time.

Rzayev is a colossal talent. The proof shines in the credible dialogue he has given the three distinct personalities which populate his tale. It is also apparent in his visible mastery of framing and the manner in which “Nihan: The Last Page” makes you feel like a quiet witness to a succession of ravishingly done segments, all of which appear taken directly from the perpetual turmoil of human existence. What is just as remarkable is that the approach present here is reminiscent of the legendary filmic maestro, Ingmar Bergman. There is also a theatrical quality to this cinematic invention, a characteristic often present in Bergman’s material, that makes its artistic and life-imitating aspects combine marvelously. This creates a singular, and defiantly brilliant, experience. It is one that commands both multiple observances and awe from those lucky enough to be caught in its hypnotic and grandly compelling presence.

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You can check out the IMDB page for the short film here.

“A Life Not To Follow”- (Movie Review)

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By Andrew Buckner

Rating: ***** out of *****.

A Life Not To Follow, written by Pedro Alvarado and director Christopher Di Nunzio and released through Creepy Kid Productions, is a knockout neo-noir, gangster crime- drama set in Boston, Massachusetts. It garners its endless effectiveness by investing as much time and concern in the personal lives of its leads as it does sharpening its increasingly gritty narrative edge. Also helping the stalwart nature of this achievement is that the composition is propelled by a brilliantly crafted script. It drips with smart, yet credibly graphic banter and appropriately dark cinematography by Nolan Yee. The proficient editing by Di Nunzio and an astonishing contribution from the sound department only enhances these previously stated characteristics with its rugged veneer. With the further incorporation of a spectacularly mood-setting score from Eros Cartechini, convincing visual effects by Mike Shea and Jessice-Lee Van Winkle as well as riveting performances from everyone involved, Di Nunzio has crafted an indie masterpiece. It is one that plays like a gloriously original hybrid of the distinct storytelling attributes of Quentin Tarantino, with three ‘chapters’ which each act as both a single saga and an interconnected narrative with each of its leads is the star, with the constant craftsmanship and demeanor of an early Martin Scorsese classic. This stylistic blend makes the one hundred and five minutes of this already tightly-knit picture appear to move all the more briskly and engagingly. It also helps the proceedings radiate an art house sensibility. Such is one that also alternates as pure entertainment. These characteristics, along with Di Nunzio’s singular and stupendous directorial eye, concoct a raw, human filmic experience.

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Such a conclusion is drawn primarily due to the tremendous restraint shown here from drawing distinct lines between whom is protagonist or antagonist. There is no judgment on any of our central characters as a lesser movie would be all too apt to do. Alvarado and Di Nunzio have created real people. They are complete with both regrets, faults and unique accomplishments in tow. Because of this we spend each of its trio of segments getting fairly and equally acquainted with our leads. These are the youthful ruffian, Eric DiVenardi (a remarkable portrayal by Fiore Leo that is fiery, vulnerable and endlessly engrossing), the hitman, Angelo (a depiction by John Martellucci where many of the same sentiments apply) and the Insomnia gripped F.B.I. agent, Tobias Kane (a representation by David Graziano that is just as absorbing as those he is paired up against). This makes for a far more intimate, multi-layered endeavor. It is one where the perspective and personal lives of each of these individuals is carefully fleshed out. Furthermore, it is smartly given its own time to unveil its respective side to the audience. This, ultimately, makes its stirring, tremendously done finale all the more nail-bitingly harrowing and intense. In its climactic moments we find ourselves on all sides at once. This is because we have endowed so much interest into DiVenardi, Angelo and Tobias Kane. It’s an act that few silver screen affairs have attempted. Even more notably, it is one even less cinematic exertions have pulled off in such a rousingly triumphant fashion.

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Retribution and vengeance, two undeniably similar subjects which are well-represented in features such as these, are recurring themes throughout the first pair of segments. In the first section, we meet DiVenardi just short of the five minute mark. He is adorned in a gray sweatshirt with the hood pulled over most of his countenance; a look of fear and alarm visibly striking him. Before he even speaks we are wondering about his plight and why he is so apprehensive. Soon we learn that he is terrified of losing his life and a violent atonement may be his only answer to avoid such a fate. The second division continues this contemplation. It does this by introducing us to Angelo, whose closest acquaintance may have to take a bullet from him or else find himself on the receiving end of one. In the closing forty-three minutes all three personalities link. This transpires as Kane’s search for a young woman takes him down an unexpected route.

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There are twists aplenty to the account. Unlike many celluloid epics nowadays which want to show off their narrative cleverness, they never feel forced. Instead these events go the more admirable course and follow the natural progression of events. This only adds to the genuine display of aptitude that flows consistently through every frame. Alvarado and Di Nunzio sprinkle elements of relationships, romantic and professional, into the plotline. These take us even further into the already richly erected, and singular, worlds of DiVenardi, Angelo and Kane. Moreover, it makes the stakes all the higher for each individual as we know all of them so personally. In turn, the intensity is made all the more ruthless and palpable, especially in the more sentimental instances, as we anxiously await the outcome in store. There is a care shown here from commencement to conclusion for characterization. It is as alive in its central personas as it is in for its secondary cast. Even those with extremely limited screen time, like The Razor (James L. Leite) or Victor (Angel Garcia), have a magnetic charisma, an enigmatic likability to them that makes us want to know more. Their enactments, as well as Michael Capozzi as Luca Trapini, Molly Kay as Eliza Cushing, Ericka Derrickson as Finola and the rest of the crew, are phenomenal. This only makes these well-developed personages seem to leap all the more effortlessly off the screen and forever into our hearts and minds.


DiNunzio’s A Life Not To Follow works spectacularly on all fronts. It transitions from drama to thriller easily. What is just as incredible is that it respects the traditions of similar entries in its sub-genre without ever forgetting to be its own entity. It never peers away from the emotional focus, whether visibly stated or subtly drawn, in the way it follows it stays close to those who populate the screen. This is also accomplished with the numerous sequences of love and anger which often intermingle throughout. This makes for a well-rounded, strikingly made rollercoaster ride for the senses. It is one that can only be defined as ‘pure experience’. This is a journey that I am eager to take again. Additionally, it is one that I highly recommend taking yourself. DiNunzio is a fantastic talent. The proof of this is emblazoned throughout every moment herein.


“Total Performance”-(Short Film Review)

By Andrew Buckner

**** out of *****.

The seventeen minute serio-comic short film from writer-director Sean Meehan, “Total Performance”, boasts both incredible talent and a unique and intriguing narrative concept. What further strengthens this fantastic endeavor is that the people in Meehan’s screenplay are lively and endearing. Moreover, the dialogue is dripping with authentic, frequently funny and often slyly witty banter. This is interpreted with equally magnificent turns from Tory Berner as the lead, Cori Sweeney, and Steven Conroy as Tim Madsen. These tremendous enactments grandly compliment the personalities Meehan has erected. This is so largely because the main depictions are all so tremendously realized. They bring home all the multi-layered facets of those we meet in the proximity of the tale. Such is done with nuance and unwavering believability. There is an everyday likability about Sweeney and Madsen that make them immediately relatable.

Meehan’s smoothly structured and magnificently directed and penned account focuses in on Sweeney. She is a struggling actress who is employed by a company, whose name graces the title of the piece, that lends out their members to represent an individual who is about to suffer a break-up, be let go from their occupation or dealt unfortunate news. The only catch is she can’t give any advice. But, when the comfort of being out of the practiced discussion long before it occurs, as is her only rule, is unexpectedly broken she finds herself amid the chaos. This transpires as a situation she was hired to provide her particular service to manifests while she is still on the premises.

When the endeavor turns from effectively humorous and often playful to dramatic to thoughtful in the second half the transition is effortless. This is thanks to the continued character-oriented focus throughout. It is also attributed to, not only the stalwart impact of the depictions from Berner and Conroy, but a secondary cast that is equally spectacular. The on-screen depictions by Caitlin Berger as Annie Heron, Anthony Rainville as Rafi, Timothy J. Cox as Walter Baron, Paul Locke as Bruce, Phoebe Kuhlman as Lauren and Lauren B. Nelson as Susan inspire awe. They quietly captive the audience with their multi-layered, high-caliber enactments. The event that brings about the conversion in tone is harrowing and genuinely unexpected. It heightens our emotional investment in these fictional personalities even more. Furthermore, it is punctuated by a closing shot that perfectly illuminates the various questions and conflicting emotions that must be going on in Sweeney’s mind. The open- ended nature of this only makes the results all the more effective and cerebral. By doing so the spectators is boldly forced to put themselves in Sweeney’s shoes. The composition is all more potent because it asks us to figure out what decision any of us would make in the state of affairs Sweeney finds herself in.

The first sequence draws us in immediately. We see Sweeney going through a job related rehearsal. It is her approach to her profession which is naturally fascinating. Yet, it also grips us on a technical level. This is thanks to, not only a naturally innovative storyline, but also mood-catching music by Cesar Suarez. Further appreciation for this attribute is courtesy of Chris Loughran’s colorful, striking and always luminous cinematography. Meehan’s film editing and digital effects are marvelous and impressive. Hair stylist and makeup artist Maya Landi and gaffer Joe McLeish’s particular contributions are just as phenomenal. Everyone involved presents magnificent work. This factor illuminates the proceedings significantly.

“Total Performance” is magnificently orchestrated throughout. It showcases a tremendous balance of humor and heart. It is also made all the more poignant by Meehan’s ability to seamlessly fill the screen with riveting cinematic personalities that we care about. The writing is sharp and the interpretations of the individuals that populate Meehan’s script are knock-outs all around. This is a brief composition that is not only a beauty to be caught up in but to watch unfold and to meditate upon. Meehan has crafted a dazzler. It is one that is propelled by both a tremendous and original plot idea and same said execution. This is a must-see.

You can check out the Facebook page for “Total Performance” here.