recent words toward films (Sometimes I Think About Dying, You’ll Never Find Me, A Perfect Day For Caribou, Where The Devil Roams)

Rachel Lambert's Sometimes I Think About Dying has a spellbroken elegance to it that sounds like the world around it overheard itself and retreated with the design but not with the details. I was afraid, in the viewing, that I'd intrude. Daisy Ridley does precious much with darkness, and makes it not a delicacy but thing asking to be opened correctly. Lovely, slow, awake, and harsh.

Sound touches light and hell goes nowhere. Sight creates a signature eye for the soul to roll around in. Indianna Bell’s and Josiah Allen’s You'll Never Find Me places a dual duel in the middle of a very small nowhere and lets terror speak its mouth. We’ll know when they know and we’ll all watch separation punish the detached with isolation and illusion. Brendan Rock and Jordan Cowan vibrate, glow, and go swimmingly dark. This whole endeavor hums, quiets, and leaves one left.

Jeff Rutherford's A Perfect Day for Caribou is a blink-and-you'll-see-it film of fast vision and punk fragility and knows that a short story is a long story slowed down. With a ramshackle restraint, it ghosts itself into finding what goes missing when not unleashed. No punches pulled, these are tired people, their cigarettes like little casts for little broken arms. Charlie Plummer, Jeb Berrier, and Dana Millican leave their roles often to walk them just out of view and then walk them back to sit awhile as if movement is the only angel that can touch the earth. Lovely, loved, film.

Where the Devil Roams, written and directed by Toby Poser, John Adams, and Zelda Adams, suffers beautifully from self-diagnosis and subsequently from phantom dream syndrome to irreversibly give us the nightmare we'll never have. It's a fucking gift. Jaggedly creative, its kitchen sink is real whether or not the blood washed there is.