Text © Richard Gary / Indie Horror Films, 2017
Images from the Internet
Long Night in a Dead City
Directed and edited by Richard Griffin
Scorpio Films Releasing
75 minutes / 2017
When I got my hot little hands on
this film, written by Lenny Schwartz from a story by its director, Richard
Griffin, I imagined myself in a smoking jacket in a comfy chair, with a cigar
in one hand and a glass of sherry in the other, to celebrate what I am looking
forward to being an enjoyable experience. The reality is me sitting in front of
the computer which is firmly on my lap, with my cats occasionally walking across
my belly. As I don’t drink or smoke, I have a cup of Bengal Spice tea by my
side as I sit on a couch. Y’know what, doesn’t matter, the point is I’m
thrilled. Yeah, there’s no bias here.
Thing is, this is not my first time
to the Richard Griffin rodeo; that is, to watch one of his multi-genre multitude
of productions, and they have never disappointed. Not even come close. Other genre
reviewers I’ve talked to also hold him in high regard, so for now at least, I’m
gonna shut up, close the curtains, and put this puppy on play.
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| Aidan Laliberte |
This is a strange, ethereal and episodic
story of Daniel (Aidan Laliberte), who awakens in an alley on New Year’s Eve, beaten
and bruised. He begins a quest to find his brother Charlie (Anthony Gaudette),
which brings him into contact with various characters in an ugly side of a city
full of back streets, litter, snow and steam. Each set piece is skewed in its
own quirky way.
The shadow side of Voltaire’s Candide, Daniel wanders into others’
lives, and vice versa, with something quite off about all of it. Mannequins, a
possible serial killer, and a sultry bartender (Anna Rizzo) who knows his name in
a tavern where everyone is photo-still, is just the start of some of those who
will make this dead city night interesting, albeit bizarre.
In some scenarios, Daniel is the
protagonist, in others he is an observer, as sort of a solo Greek Chorus in a
modern day tragedy. In all, though, there is an either explicit or implicit
invitation, spoken or not, for him to join, and to stay in that moment, in that
place. A mysterious woman, Holly (fetching Griffin newcomer Sarah Reed), takes
the place of both companion and Dante-esque guide.
So, essentially, this is a two-person
story, with one recurring brother character. Many who appear in cameo in the
set pieces are Griffin regulars, like Johnny Sederquist, Laura Pepper, and
Casey Wright, who show up in brief moments, with others such Aaron Andrade and Bruce
Church in more pivotal, yet short bursts. Laliberte and Reed make wonderful
additions to the Griffin pantheon of his recurring troupe.
It doesn’t feel like I am giving much away by
saying there are other films with similar concepts, such as Jacob’s Ladder
(1990) or the granddaddy of this sub-genre, Carnival of Souls (1962), but this
takes a different path that’s worth the walk. The fact that Daniel repeatedly
passes a Dead End street sign is no coincidence, and of course there is the
title of the film.
A non-human character is the twangy
guitar of Mark Cutler, whose score underlines the drama throughout most of the
film. Its almost Western motif adds to the mood as the camera moves at a slow,
languid and deliberate pace that matches the mood of the moment, and Daniel’s
motions, like a walking sleep. There is an occasional use of either a selfie
stick or a camera on Daniel’s belt that effectively gives it a personal feel,
though I hope it’s not something that will crop up too much more in future
films.
As with many Griffin releases, there
is a heavy reliance on a primary color lighting scheme that further demarks
emotions or state of being of the characters. Another aspect to the theme of
the story is the editing, handled by Griffin. Despite the long and loving
shots, there are also some parts of quick editing, and one truly enjoyable one
of Daniel and Andrade’s car. Honestly, it does not seem like it was an easy
film to piece together, but it looks great.
 |
| Sarah Reed |
Many of Griffin’s films deal with heaven,
hell, and other variations of what happens next, especially in the likes of Normal (2013), Accidental Incest (2014), The
Sins of Dracula (2014) and Nun of
That (2008). Griffin continues to take a different view of that aspect of
life and death, which makes for a further interesting vision that one may not
expect, keeping the viewer’s interest. Even if you have an idea of where the
storyline is going, the ride there is still going to be from a perspective you probably
would not have thought of, giving new blood to a not-so-new concept.
While a little less steeped in
gender/body politic than usual for his later films, Griffin still manages to
keep us guessing about direction of the story by giving some fresh ideas about
choices of what is next for our protagonists. Part of the mystery is more of
how and why they got to the moment they are in, and what becomes of them next.
There is definitely a feeling of
surrealism, but not to the point where it’s so obliquely opaque in the events
that it loses direction, even though it’s quite a bit over the map. It kind of
makes sense that there is a scene where the characters take some acid, because this
is a bit of a head trip anyway.
By the end, many explanations are
divulged, and yet there is still room for interpretation. That is good
filmmaking. Chalk yet another one on the plus side for Griffin. He shows he is far
above average for low-budget filmmakers, making the most out of what he is
given, and yet he continues to grow in scope. And, as always, I eagerly
anticipate his next release.
