Wednesday, December 30, 2020

Review: Nicole

Text © Richard Gary / Indie Horror Films, 2020
Images from the Internet

 


Nicole
Directed by James Schroeder
Dopp Kit Media
74 minutes, 2020
www.nicolethemovie.com
www.schradesproductions.com

To paraphrase the late, great Leonard Cohen: “Nicole takes you down to her place by the river… / You can spend the night together / Then she’ll chop your perfect body with her axe…”

When we meet budding artist and daytime office assistant Nicole (Tamika Shannon), it is easy to tell she is a woman with issues. Chugging back vodka upon awakening and playing lovingly with knives, she keeps people away by using ear-buds around the office. She may be lovely, and men are constantly staring at her in that toxic-masculinity way (man, I hate the open-office workplace concept), but you know right off the bat that there is something – or multiple things – off about her. But then again, is it real or her imagination? It seems like everybody – male and female – is into her, including a creepy jogger (Tre Lockhart) and a nice comic relief turn with a goth hardware store clerk (Madeline Brumby).

Though a man who works with her (Ke’Shawn Bussey) who is obviously one of the good guys (every other male is kind of stereotypical), asks her out to see his band play, and she rebuffs him. The viewer’s heart goes out to him, but she’s arranged an online first date with charming John (Stephen Green), who’s handsome demeaner also hides a broken personality: he imbibes with lines of white powder and has a tendency to pull a Cosby on women, and then throw them away after getting what he wanted. Nicole and John seem to be not water-and-oil, but fire-and-fire. It’s hard to tell who is the fox and who is the henhouse. Fifteen minutes in and I am itching to see where it goes.

Tamika Shannon and Stephen Green

This is mostly a two-person film, as Nicole and John are two celestial bodies orbiting around each other, with other characters being their moons: part of the system but on the outskirts. It is interesting to see the way the two of them interact, her being stiff and unsure, and him being loquacious to the point where you want to give him a throat punch, making really bad jokes that are red flags the size of a city block. He’s a playa on the move and the question is will she be moved by him. The second act starts as the date begins.

The sheer number of substances that this couple imbibes is quite impressive, probably more in their one day (including his snorting) that I have done in at least 10 years in total, if not more. Alcohol culture has always confused me (the appeal of it, anyway), and this film is definitely a reason why. At least no ciggy-butt addictions; watching people smoke has always been a turn-off for me, but not as much as when films show tooth brushing, of which we get to enjoy more than once here.

This is a very dark comedy that is beautifully shot in black and white, except for Nicole’s inner thoughts or desires, which is a reversal of the usual trope of memory portrayed on film. It presents the drabness of her life, as she stumbles through it. But color shows not only her memories, but her hopeful delusions as well. As for the lessons of this film, it is double-directed: first, women, never leave your drink unattended, especially around someone you don’t know well; and second, men, do not be a Cosby because (among many reasons) it may not work out as you intended.

The film really picks up steam in the third act, when the line between reality and what is going on in one’s head starts to – er – bleed. Is what we’re seeing real, or imagined? I love that kind of story, as the possibilities are unlimited. The conversations start to become a bit surrealistic and way more interesting.

There is a nice touch of blood and body parts, without being overly graphic (though granny may not be too happy), in part to the director’s nimble touch, and I’m certain the budget restraints helped. Blood always looks better in monochrome.

The dialog, written by the director Schroeder is sometime sharp, and politically nuanced, such as one character saying, “That’s what you get you Harvey Weinstein motherfucker.” That made me smile. The acting is sharp; 40 years ago, Nicole might have been played by Pamela Grier, but Shannon does well to show the shades of emotions and thoughts that run through Nicole’s head. John is a bit more one-dimensional, but Green also plays him realistically, I’m sorry to say (what I mean is that John is not a nice person).

This is Schroeder’s first feature, and his only non-documentary credit. Yet the way the film is presented, it almost feels like a documentary, with the way it is shot and the black and white helps, as well. This gives the film a cool and calculated look that works for its subject matter. I look forward to more fictional features from him.

The film is available on Amazon and TubiTV 




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