Stevie (Carly Tatiana Pandza) wakes up in the back of a cop car after the death of her estranged father. Her husband, Gale (Mario Silva), bails her out of jail, but the grief is still raw and consuming Stevie. She soon begins stalking a police officer who looks like her father, sending her into a further spiral of depression and obsession. Generation Well navigates heavy themes of grief and loss all within 17 minutes.
Carly Tatiana Pandza mixes subtlety with overt rawness to capture Stevie’s complex state of mind. Depression, death, self-harm, coping, and addiction are all present within the narrative, and Pandza elevates each theme as the central character. Drone footage during travel sequences adds production value to the film, while maintaining the film’s DIY, indie spirit. The themes and analysis of grief are important and popular in the current indie drama scene, adding to the relevance of Generation Well.
The indie heart of Generation Well gives the short film its best moments. The attention to small production details and the effective use of sets add flavor to the short, especially for indie fans. However, Generation Well struggles to balance its narrative. It has elements of a bleak coping story, an obsessive thriller, and an inspiring, trying-to-get-sober drama. All possible within a feature but in the confines of a short film, the shifting tones and beats delude from the whole.
Writer and director Jack Serra shows a lot of skill in the world of indie drama. Generation Well‘s ending breaks up the pace, allowing the viewer to glimpse the possibility in Stevie’s future and accenting the final shot. The film struggles to find a cohesive theme and leans too heavily on drama tropes. Pandza’s performance is solid, and Serra has found success with short films in the past. Generation Well covers the bones of Stevie’s story with ease, but the uncommitted story beats steal from the film’s heart.
The trailer does not do the film justice, but wow, is it an introduction. Marketed as Darren Aronofsky’s stylish madcap crime film, Caught Stealing is all of that and so much more, as washed-up baseball prodigy Hank (Austin Butler) navigates the violent underworld of NYC circa 1998. Along with Butler, Aronofsky rounds out his cast with the likes of Zoe Kravitz, Regina King, Matt Smith, Bad Bunny, Liev Schreiber, and Vincent D’Onofrio. Boasting a talent-rich cast with a frenetic premise, Caught Stealing promises to be a wild ride through the Lower East Side.
Hank and Yvonne (Zoe Kravitz) are thinking about getting serious. He loves baseball and his Mom. She is a city girl and loves to smoke. The chemistry is palpable, the sex is hot, and the two are building a nice routine together. Yet everything takes a drastic turn when Hank’s punk rocker friend, Russ (Matt Smith), has to leave town to tend to his ailing father. Russ skips town in a hurry, begging Hank to watch his cat. Hank is more of a dog person, but cat sitting for a friend in need is well within his wheelhouse. But when angry Ukrainian mobsters come looking for Russ and find Hank instead, Hank is beaten within an inch of his life. Waking up in the ICU two days later, Hank soon realizes Russ’s problems go much deeper than needing a cat sitter.
As Hank tries to piece together and navigate the criminal network of NYC, most of which Russ seems to have ripped off, he soon realizes it’s more than angry mobsters he’s running from, but his own past. Bodies pile up as Hank encounters Ukrainian mobsters, a Puerto Rican club (Bad Bunny), a clever detective (Regina King), and Jewish hitmen (Liev Schreiber and Vincent D’Onofrio), all set against the backdrop of the 1998 San Francisco Giants’ Wild Card run. Caught Stealing assembles an eclectic cast, allowing them to showcase their skills in the genre-bending crime narrative envisioned by Darren Aronofsky.
Austin Butler shines as Hank. As the driving force of the narrative, every choice Butler makes enhances the character’s charisma. Butler and Kravitz have chemistry for days, as Hank and Yvonne attempt to rescue helpless cats and survive the onslaught of people hunting Russ. Even Hank’s worst choices come across as endearing due to Butler’s sheer charm on screen. However, what Butler showcases most in Caught Stealing is pure range. Seeing Butler go from Tex in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood to Elvis to Feyd-Rautha in Dune: Part 2to The Bikeriders to Caught Stealing is watching his star power grow with each performance. He keeps getting better and better. It’s already a career worth studying, and Caught Stealing is the latest excellent entry.
The rest of the ensemble effortlessly creates the world of Caught Stealing. Kravitz lends the film heart and humor, thanks to her own magnetism and character choices. Liev Schreiber and Vincent D’Onofrio are both hilarious and brutal. Bad Bunny is always a welcome sight, whether it’s on SNL or Bullet Train. And Matt Smith further showcases the film’s incredible casting as the cheeky, danger-inviting punk, Russ. On the page, Caught Stealing is a fun crime thriller. It’s funny, sexy, violent, dark, emotional, and all elevated by not only Butler but the entire cast. Between the cast and Aronofsky, Caught Stealing dares to be cool and succeeds across the board.
Coolness takes Caught Stealing far. Aronofsky subverts expectations throughout the narrative, all while centering the movie well within the ’90s, in more than just its setting. Beyond a few 90s references, writer Charlie Huston and Aronofsky build the world around baseball, Hank’s past, and a pre-Y2K New York.
Aronofsky brings his original flair to the script, reminding audiences of the emotional nuances of Black Swanand The Wrestler as he addresses Hank’s past. Still, Aronofsky boasts influences from across 90s cinema. There are some Paul Thomas Anderson vibes, a hint of True Romance, a little Snatch, and a few homages to Scorsese at play in Caught Stealing. However, no influence goes to waste, as Aronofsky highlights an era of films known for reminding Hollywood that it’s not always style over substance, but that sometimes style is the substance.
Caught Stealing has some moments where the tonal shifts are jarring. Some shifts work in the narrative’s favor, and others will alienate some viewers. There are a few scenes that do not move the plot forward but are essential character moments for the players involved. Plot purists may find these moments unnecessary, but all are vital to experience what Aronofsky is creating. The Idles soundtrack adds punk flair. Austin Butler, Zoe Kravitz, and the entire cast are as good as ever. Aronofsky brings the full range of his directorial prowess, making a film equally alive in the days of Blockbuster Video as it is in the 2020s. Caught Stealing brings joy, thrills, genuine surprises, fantastic performances, and just enough heartbreak. But more than anything else, Caught Stealing is a reminder of how much fun it is going to the movies.
Viv (Millie Rosse Evans) is gifted a beautiful guitar by her boyfriend Jay (Brent Michael). A guitar that will hopefully launch them to stardom and out of their small-town origins. Two years later, Viv is playing a show at a local club and struggling with addiction. In two years, Viv went from a hopeful songwriter to a performer needing a fix to get through a performance. What follows is a non-linear tapestry of emotional turmoil and paranoia as Withdrawal chronicles Viv’s life with heroin.
Viv and Jay dream of New York City and a new life. Their room, Roxy dies from an overdose, they’ve burned all their bridges with family, and they’ve tried every scam to get high. Despite big dreams, heroin continues to rule over the young couple. In the wake of Roxy’s death and Viv’s parents pushing for rehab, Viv and Jay make a pact to get clean. With their stash is gone, their resources depleted, the two sit in Viv’s apartment facing the pains of drug withdrawals in one hellish night.
Performances and casting for Withdrawal center around Evans and Michael as they explore the complex, anxiety-filled relationship between Viv and Jay. The two showcase a range of emotions, allowing the audience to feel the heightened panic of yearning for release from the anguish of withdrawal. Moments of dialogue are on the nose or rough in the early sections of the film. Still, writer and director Aaron Strand finds his groove in writing chaotic dialogue that showcases addiction at its worst. Strand’s indie sensibilities take over, allowing the performances to shine as the couple becomes more faded from who they once were.
Drugs, music, and art flood through Withdrawal as Strand draws some influences from 90s indie and 60s, Velvet Underground-esque heroin lore vibes. The film is experimental yet accessible, lending the non-linear narrative an extra edge. Withdrawal boasts some “Rebel Without a Crew”, Robert Rodriguez flair that die-hard indie fans will appreciate. It’s a bleak look at addiction, hitting the drug drama tropes hard. But maintains a true-to-life viewpoint on drug culture, giving it the heart of a documentary within the body of a narrative feature.
Withdrawal is a solid showcase of the Atlanta film scene in the 2020s. Strand and his cast’s efforts have made an experience primed for the festival circuit. Though not as stylish as Trainspotting or as dark as Requiem for a Dream, Withdrawal still is not for the faint of heart and still holds a place within the trove of heroin heavy films in 90s cinema. There’s a bit of Doug Lineman’s Go and more than a little modern indie influence, but the bulk of Withdrawal is a personal look at the ongoing opioid epidemic in the United States.
Themes of addiction, relationships, and darkness within the collision of addiction within a relationship give Withdrawal its soul. The title says everything about the film. It’s an artistic, gritty take on the paranoia, anxiety, anger, toxicity, pain, and gut-wrenching sickness lying in the path of heroin. Non-linear choices provide Strand with extra catharsis at the climax, allowing the narrative’s most prominent reveals to linger beyond the closing credits. While Withdrawal has its faults at times, it’s a dark and wild ride, begging audiences to examine addiction at the heart of those at its core.
Anne (Sarah-Jane Potts) does not speak. Whether by choice or health, it is unknown, but Anne lives her life in silence. Yet Anne is traveling, navigating the airport to an oceanside destination and trying to find a place to stay, all with her notepad and marker as her only means of communication. Set to a melancholy score of strings, Signs of Life follows Anne’s solitary journey through grief, loneliness, and life with few words beyond her personal pages.
Observation is key throughout Signs of Life, whether it is Anne’s observations of others or the audience’s observation of Anne’s experience. The narrative focuses on Anne as she observes life, taking in the mundane, while trying to piece together purpose in the wake of tragedy. Though writer and director Joseph Millson is slow to show every character trait, themes of loss and depression permeate the story in every emotional beat. As Anne meets Bill (David Ganly), a single father longing for a relationship with kids, she finds a platonic partner to build a connection with. Bill gives Anne a place to stay as she processes her grief. The two bond over reading, table tennis, and life, all as Bill laments his divorce and Anne responds with her pen.
Signs of Life is a slow-burning film brimming with heavy themes. Even during the setup and opening moments of the story, Millson conveys themes of regret, anxiety, and loss. With more prominent themes of mental health, Millson explores connections and relationships through Bill’s wanting to do something good and Anne’s desire for isolation, yet longing for a companion. Performances of Potts and Ganly fit the narrative, carrying the heavy burdens of depression in every subtle glance or rare moment of dialogue (at least rare for Anne). Signs of Life has all the tropes of an Oscar-y drama but with the heart of an indie festival favorite.
Tropes of an Oscar-y drama and the heart of an indie darling all sound good on paper. The themes at play in Signs of Life are essential to the landscape of not just film but also exploring the human experience through cinema. Yet the exploration in Signs of Life leaves one wishing for more. Character moments for Anne are powerful, but often too late in the narrative to give the film the punch needed to deliver a character climax in line with the promises of the first act. When Anne reveals the reasons for her silence, it comes so late in the film that it takes away from the finale.
Restructuring the reveal to the middle and then picking up the pieces of Anne’s past could make the second half even more layered and give Potts more to work with in terms of emotional depth. Beyond providing the second half more weight, moving Anne’s reveal also offers the first half more engagement. Signs of Life highlights the small moments of life, but at times subtlety and smallness get in the way of the more significant message.
On a technical filmmaking level, Signs of Life does everything right. The score punctuates every look, word, and feeling in every frame. The premise is intriguing and lends itself to indie drama, giving plenty of room for performers to shine. But Signs of Life takes a slow-burn approach to drama further than necessary, to the point that an audience would start to wonder, “Is anything going to happen?” Between the beyond gradual pace and the delayed payoff, character arcs suffer, leading to moments in the final ten minutes feeling rushed or inorganic to the story. Joseph Millson has tons of promise in indie drama. Millson’s 2022 short Care had an interesting premise, and Signs of Life further showcases those skills. Signs of Life will find an audience, but Millson’s next indie feature will likely earn him the indie accolades this filmis seeking.
Set in 2019 but consumed by the 90s, The Regulars depicts the daily lives of those working at the Prince Charles Cinema in London. Writer, director, and star, Fil Freitas injects Kevin Smith and Richard Linklater sensibilities from the opening black and white frames to the pop culture-heavy dialogue. It’s an indie hangout comedy set in the last days of a pre-COVID world, soaking in the bliss of a day at the cinema. Fil (Fil Freitas) and Dusty (Dusty Keeney) navigate the theater in a mix of Clerksand Empire Records that reads like a love letter to Gen X indies.
The Prince Charles Cinema is as much a character in The Regulars as the employees. Fil, Dusty, the manager, Sam (Richardo Freitas), and a whole ensemble of theater employees and patrons populate the cinema as the mundane proves to be a dry comedy goldmine. On a surface level, the plot is just a day at the movies, or a day at work for those shoveling the popcorn for quirky customers. But like Slacker and Mallrats before it, The Regulars is about relationships and a fleeting moment in history. Placing the story just before the COVID lockdown gives the film a unique place in time, making the 90s nostalgia feel more than sentimental, but organic to the lifestyle of the entire ensemble of characters.
More tame than Clerks, Fil Freitas packs dialogue with pop culture and just enough raunchy, dark humor to keep the rebellion alive. Performances are all subtle, quirky, and leaning into the irreverent dry style of a grunge comedy. Subtle cinematic references blend seamlessly with bold monologues and pop culture takes. A throwaway line about Brad Pitt eating is gold for the Soderbergh aficionado, while the Kylo Ren monologue feels at home with any recent or classic Kevin Smith character. The Regulars is an ensemble piece, but Fil and Dusty’s relationship sits atop the many intermingling relationships of the Prince Charles Cinema. It’s what makes The Regulars more than an imitator of a great ’90s hangout movie but a contributor to the legacy.
Legacy is a vital topic of The Regulars. More than taking place in a beaten-down local theater, Freitas discusses the legacy of indie film in the 90s. A time when Tarantino, Robert Rodriguez, and Kevin Smith had become rockstar directors with their DIY chops. The days of video stores creating taste and Film Threat just starting to christen indie darlings. The Regulars captures all that angsty, punk rock energy and packs it all into a 2019 package, but it’s so accessible. The pop culture-spiced dialogue, the witty strangeness, and nods to cult film make The Regulars a love letter to video store days and theater hopping.
More than creating a timely film, The Regulars opts for timeless. Despite rooting the film in the 90s ethos, Fil Freitas and his band of rebels capture the timeless magic of being young, working with your friends, and going to the movies. Not every trope hits like it did in the ’90s. The Regulars does miss out on the poetic bliss of a Silent Bob monologue or the euphoric climax of “Sugar High” from Empire Records. The story could even benefit from a wild card, Jay & Silent Bob-esque character to break up the pacing a bit, but doing so could risk becoming a complete spiritual sequel. Instead, The Regulars opts for sweet on the climax. Promising a beautiful future, yet with COVID on the unsuspecting horizon, adding even more depth to the tapestry of electric characters. The tales and triumphs of The Regulars is not for everyone, but for those longing for the days of Dante & Randal at the quick-stop, Fil & Dusty will provide plenty of nostalgia even for the most cynical.
