Foster on Film

Directed & Written by: C. J. Roy.  16 min/20 min

This critique contains spoilers – if you have not seen the film yet, go to the Best Shorts page.

Roadside Attraction (2004)

C.J. Roy is young.  Young in a way that’s irritating to those of us who aren’t young anymore.  It means he has time.  And in time, he will be discovered by the suited figures who have loads of cash, and they will invite him to join the Hollywood community.  He has talent, and I wanted to announce my prediction for his future before anyone else so he will somehow feel indebted to me.  I like it when rich Hollywood directors are indebted to me (sure, but does Spielberg call any more?).  Until the suits discover him, you can with his short films Roadside Attractions and Human.

The basics of filmmaking are a given with any of Roy’s films.  So often, festival short films are made by people who have learned to operate a camera, but aren’t quite sure where to point it.  Roy has down lighting, camera angles, and framing.  That’s the easy stuff, but it’s nice to see a professional job after watching hours of other directors’ glamorized home movies.

Roadside Attractions is a horror film.  You can call it horror-comedy, but that is unnecessary as the best horror is funny.  During long sections of Dawn of the Dead, the laughs far outweigh the frights.  Even Macbeth has its clowns.  Roadside Attractions has the two Mullets.  While they are there for comedy, Walter, the geeky if oversized protagonist, is played relatively straight, even if I can’t help but laugh at his weak, nasal “hey”.  He sits in the diner, sipping his coffee and looking miserable.  The Mullets’ tormenting of poor Walter is a bit over the top, contrived for the audience to hate them, but in a sixteen minute short there isn’t time for subtle character development so I’ll bow to the expediency of the scene.  They are the villains and the clowns, and it is the second Mullet’s snorting of sweetener that keeps the film going in what would otherwise be a slow moment.

A dolly shot in the restroom and a scene in the car trunk—where the camera passes through the back seat—are the touches that put Roadside Attractions above its festival competition.  But for all that, for the first fourteen minutes, it is just a psycho-revenge film.  Nicely shot.  Well cast.  But nothing special.  That changes at the end as the sun rises.  Roy has captured the kind of scene that stays locked in my brain.  Even after a single viewing, I could recall it vividly: from Walter’s smile, to a few globes, to looking over the field from behind Walter.  I already knew Walter was a serial killer (mass murderer would probably be more accurate, but “murder” implies there is something wrong with what he is doing, and I’m firmly on Walter’s side), so the final scene doesn’t give me any new information, though it widens the scope a bit.  It wasn’t what it was conveying to me, but how.  It didn’t tell me what he’d done, it showed me in a way I could feel, and that makes it art.

I can’t leave Roadside Attractions without mentioning the final song, which I assume from the credits must be the oddly titled Elephant, Perfect in the Sun by Carvel Bass.  Besides being a catchy tune (I spent a whole day with it repeating in my mind which is particularly impressive since I can’t make out most of the words), it alters the atmosphere of the last scene.  It gives the situation a feeling of inevitability, and strangely, peace.

Human (2003)

Human is a more meaningful film than Roadside Attractions, with plenty to start up discussions on the nature of human existence, personal identity, and dominance, but as a whole, it is less successful.  That still makes it better than 99% of the shorts making the festival circuit.  If you are reading this, you should know the story, but for clarity: James Anne Farrell plays an android, part wife, part slave; she slowly shows signs of life, overcomes the devices that keep her enslaved, and leaves to create her own existence.

Human is a silent film, the kind I always wonder why they didn’t make eighty years ago.  No one speaks because there is never a reason to.  What would the AI and the owner have to talk about?  The visuals—the sterile suburban home, the roses, the AI’s expressions—tell everything.  In particular it is Ms Farrell, in a superb performance, that reveals the story.  She combines innocence, boredom, curiosity, sexuality, and longing into a surprisingly complex character for a 20 minute, dialog-free short.

Much of the film’s world is left implied.  Is the AI the only one or are there millions of slave androids?  The owner appears to be a businessman, not a scientist, so it’s reasonable to assume this is a slave state where the wealthy can buy servants and companions at the local Robots R Us.  Do other androids show signs of self-motivation?  Again nothing says, but it raises far fewer questions if humans just don’t care what the androids feel.  Since the owner shows no indication of love or devotion for the android, but cries over a picture of her, she must have been made in the image of a lost wife (dead or just departed).  This gives us a sad view of the flaws in human nature.  The owner wanted a replacement for his loved one, but can’t treat that replacement with love as if it were his missing wife, nor can he give it respect as its own being.  I could teach a senior level philosophy class from the issues raised in Human and it could probably supply the content for a sophomore level psychology class.

So, in a film so thought provoking, what doesn’t work?  Well, it is a very serious work.  I can’t imagine where a joke or two could have been added, but I’ve never seen a film where a bit of humor didn’t help, and there’s not much to be found here.  As Human was destined to stay laugh-free, it is a little too long.  There aren’t easy cuts to be made, but in the best films, good moments are sacrificed for the sake of the whole.

Also, one scene is a bit troubling.  The AI is mounted on the owner in a sex act that takes her toward violence while he reacts initially as if she’s a sex toy used for masturbation.  It’s a very important scene.  There is less nudity than I would have liked, and less than the scene really needs (with annoying glare used to hide flesh), but that’s to be expected in the slightly prudish world of indie films.  The problem is a switch in point of view.  As the AI loses control, I was suddenly looking through the eyes of the owner.  This is jarring, and not in a good way.  It is the AI’s feelings that are important, not the owners.  Seeing from her point of view, or continuing to act as a voyeur, would keep the focus on her.  Worse still, those insert shots are awkward, something I don’t expect from Roy.  Looking up at the AI, I don’t see hunger and mania, rather I see the need for a different camera lens.

Then there is the music.  It is excellent.  Slow, with few changes, it drives home the emptiness of the AI’s situation, letting me feel why she wants more.  It is excellent, that is, for awhile.  For three minutes, it’s great.  For five minutes, it’s good.  But at the end of twenty minutes, I wanted to gnaw a foot off, preferably the composers.  The same notes repeat over and over and over.

I recently spoke to C.J. Roy.  He plans to re-edit Human and alter the music.  That sounds promising and I look forward to the new version—with only minor trepidation.  For now, Human is a good film that could have been great.