THE STORY – Introverted and uncomfortable in his own skin, Anx does not consider himself an obvious partner for Cass, the feisty whirlwind of confidence he finds himself waking up alongside after a presumed one night stand. And yet a romance begins to bloom. However, the nascent relationship is threatened when a strange disease begins to spread throughout the world, gradually causing the infected to merge with whatever they touch. Finding themselves quarantined to Anx’s claustrophobic apartment, the couple is soon besieged by their very surroundings, which have begun coalescing with their neighbours into a spongy new life form that seeks to add the lovers to its mass.
THE CAST – Matthieu Sampeur & Edith Proust
THE TEAM – Thibault Emin (Director/Writer), Alice Butaud & Emma Sandona (Writers)
THE RUNNING TIME – 100 Minutes
After an opening weekend that featured righteous pro-Palestinian protests, star-studded carpets, and ample criticism against the poor curational standards of its gala slate, festival-goers at TIFF were at wit’s end on Monday night. The second week of cinematic festivities promised far less pandemonium in contrast to the corporate plastering of print magazines and miscellaneous product samples from the weekend closures. Audience members attending the Midnight Madness premiere of “Else” were some of the bravest spectators at the festival. Initially expecting a calmer screening, attendees were surprised by Thibault Emin’s spontaneous entrance. Adorned with a colorful hazmat suit, programmer Peter Kuplowsky greeted the mysterious filmmaker on stage.
Multiple eyebrows were raised when the French cineaste began his prolonged speech. Lasting for nearly ten minutes, the dazed director commented on his influences in the context of his personal inspirations and recreational drug preferences. Some spectators yawned out of pure exhaustion, while others were entranced by his extended bit. For better and for worse, an expectation was set by the end of Emin’s opening remarks. When the screening wrapped, a divisive reception swarmed the Royal Alexandra Theatre.
In the spirit of his informal in-person introduction, “Else” initially impresses with a bold artistic move that eventually overstays its welcome. At the crux of its body-horror influences and other genre amalgamations, Emin’s ambitious first feature attempts to merge romance, horror, and science fiction into a complete vision. The film is set in an apocalyptic world where a pandemic forces the film’s protagonist, Anx, and his partner, Cass, to lock down in their conveniently confined apartment. If infected, the virus begins to melt the victim’s body into a singular mass organism. Walls, bedsheets, and doors merge and mingle into an abstract monstrosity. Clever practical effects, makeup, and other New Flesh references respectfully re-invent the spirit of a classic creature feature with its obvious pandemic allegory.
Working with a grandiose concept on a small-scaled budget isn’t an easy feat. Emin relies on his multifaceted sound mix to fill in his budgetary gaps. The remarkable sound design adds to the creeping metamorphosis of merging objects and living beings. Raspy reverberations augment the couple’s paranoia. The incorporation of high-contrast black-and-white photography simultaneously complements the erratic soundscape. The claustrophobic spaces and minimalist camera work entrap Emin’s cast in a labyrinth of nightmare-inducing images.
Unfortunately, the exciting premise is dwindled by overambition as the character writing retreads a familiar formula. The romance at the palpitating heart of Emin’s artistic vision never feels organic. The characters are nothing more than serviceable archetypes, personified to sustain the narrative momentum. The existential questioning that surrounds the character’s plight fails to reward the viewer with new pandemic ideas. Thus, the lack of thematic originality sours the inventive world-building.
Emin’s feature would have been greatly improved if it deviated from a traditional three-act structure. As the protagonist’s autonomy deteriorates in the face of an indescribable phenomenon, the narrative should have taken a more experimental stance to complement the cast’s interiority. For the locked-down characters, time is fluid. A stronger sense of nonlinearity would have effectively communicated the destructive qualities of the fictionalized virus. More importantly, it would have enhanced the sensitive psycho-drama that builds upon Anx’s morality and guilt.
“Else,” as the title suggests, offers something different from your typical mainstream horror flick. On a skeletal plane, Emin’s provocative premise builds a solid conceptual foundation. However, as a byproduct of its weak screenwriting, “Else” unremarkably fails to engage with its spectatorship beyond the lavish prosthetics and enticing premise. As a debut, Emin’s ambitions are admirable. However, the hallucinogenic visuals fall short of greatness when trying to engage with “Else” on both an intellectual and emotional plane. As the bodies of discombobulated pandemic victims begin to morph with their environment, Emin regrettably fails to melt his spectatorship with his infectious ideas.
