Rachel Morrison, one of the visionaries behind the Netflix feature, “Mudbound,” was recently announced as the first female Best Cinematographer nominee in Academy Awards history. The nominations, which were announced a few weeks ago, could be seen as prophecy: female filmmakers are starting to not only be appointed to these positions, but are becoming recognized for them as well.
Sundance Film Festival attracts critics, distributors, celebrity-sightseers and movie-lovers alike to the snowy locale of Park City, UT for 10 days in January. The films that premiere here often become Oscar winners. “Call Me By Your Name” and “Get Out” were among last year’s programming. But for this year’s festival, which ran from January 18th to 28th, a number stood out: 37% of the films were directed by women – the highest percentage of women-directed films ever to be programmed at Sundance.
Among the festival’s programming, there were three standout stories: “The Miseducation of Cameron Post”, “I Think We’re Alone Now”, and “Skate Kitchen”. These compelling narratives not only feature women as their leads, but also include women working behind the camera as visual storytellers. With each, the characters feel fully undeniably fleshed out and, above all, cared for.
The Miseducation of Cameron Post
90 Minutes, Directed by Desiree Akhvan
This year’s recipient of the U.S. Grand Jury Prize is Desiree Akhvan’s sophomore feature, “The Miseducation of Cameron Post”. Based on the 2012 novel of the same name by Emily Danforth, Akhvan and Cecilia Frugiuele adapted the screenplay. The film stars Chloë Grace Moretz as the titular character.
Outside a fateful homecoming dance, Cameron is caught fooling around with a girl from Bible study and subsequently is sent to a gay conversion camp called God’s Promise. There, Cameron becomes friends with an assortment of teenagers: some that wholehearted believe in the power of prayer, some that play along to make things easier, and everything in between. The other only mildly well-known film in which we’ve seen this world represented is in 1999’s cult film “But I’m a Cheerleader” – although the tone of that was comedic, dripping with satire. Another comparison that comes to mind is “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” (1975): both movies feature an overbearing leader whose motives are not always warm.
Akhvan’s sense of sly comedy and emotional truth was first demonstrated in her deeply personal debut, 2014’s “Appropriate Behavior”. Loosely based on her coming out story, the filmmaker is no stranger to the internal plight of suppressing one’s sexuality – something that reads apparent in the delicate folds of “Cameron Post”. From the moment it begins, we’re fully delved in the world Akhvan has carefully composed of middle-America in 1993.
The unflinching portrayal of teenage lust – heavy petting stolen beneath skirts and blankets – is never gratuitous, which plays to the strengths of other coming-of-age queer films like, “Call Me By Your Name”.
Actor Chloë Grace Moretz attends the World Premiere of “The Miseducation of Cameron Post”. © 2018 Sundance Institute, photo by Jonathan Hickerson.
Moretz, who’s usually cast in roles that showcase her ability to be simultaneously precocious and tenacious, is nearly unrecognizable in the leading role. Fully transformed, Moretz navigates the world of smoking weed and awkward school dances in Adidas track pants and oversized sweatshirts, her brows darkened and a cow-lick in her hair. She’s simultaneously understated, self conscious; you almost forget you’re watching the same actress from mainstream blockbusters like “Neighbors 2: Sorority Rising”. Cameron Post is undoubtedly her most daring role yet.
Heteronormative propaganda spews almost reflexively from the lips of the small staff at God’s Promise. There’s a stiff devoutness in each word uttered by proven-convert Reverend Rick (John Gallagher Jr.). His sister, Dr. Lydia Marsh, is played with frightening serenity by Jennifer Ehle–she prides herself with “curing” her brother and has used this to appoint herself as head of the program. Although their portrayal might seem somewhat nefarious, the absence of judgement against homophobic ignorance or towards devout Christianity is another of the film’s strengths. “But I’m a Cheerleader” is patronizingly satirical; “Cameron Post” refuses to alienate or blame anyone. It evokes the question of who is more damaged – the kids or the adults that are meant to be leading them towards redemption?
I Think We’re Alone Now
100 Minutes, Directed by Reed Morano
“I Think We’re Alone Now” takes place in the near future, where an incurable disease has wiped out the population, leaving a disgruntled yet content librarian in its wake. In a nondescript town in the Hudson River Valley, Del (Peter Dinklage), spends his days cleaning houses and burying the bodies of the dead. He leads a deafeningly quiet, conscientious yet complacent life – until another living soul appears, shattering everything he knows about his solitary existence. The first thirty minutes of the film are without dialogue – its absence makes his existence even more isolating. He watches a silent movie. He carefully withdraws photos from the picture frames in the family homes, cataloging them conscientiously. He eats dinner alone by dwindling candlelight. It’s not happiness, but it’s not quite miserable either.
Through the deliberate composition of shots, dimly lit and appearing as they would to the naked eye, we feel fully apart of his reality. When framed by infinite shelves of books and abandoned cafeteria’s door frames, Del’s solitude is visceral and consuming, void of humanity’s presence to the point it’s nearly palpable.
And then he sees it, something that disrupts everything he knows: a modest display of fireworks that illuminate his book-lined home with spectacular colors. They jar his perspective, which is mirrored by the ear-splitting decibel with which they reach the audience’s’ ears.
Soon, like Del, we discover who set off the fireworks: and this discovery disrupts Del’s perception that he was the last living soul on earth. With a Southern twang and scrappy air about her, Elle Fanning portrays Grace as a girl who uses rebellion to mask her insecurities in an oversized t-shirt that reads Same Shit, Different Day. The two strike up an unlikely friendship; whereas Del has given up on the humanity, focusing only on what is directly in front of him, Grace still maintains an unquenchable lust for life, with an irrefutable hope for a future that might not exist. With a distinctly voyeuristic and subdued perspective, Del and Grace sip wine together to nullify their pain.
“Batteries are the only thing the dead can offer,” Del instructs Grace, rubber gloves on, withdrawing them from a remote control.
“The necrophiliac in me would have to disagree,” she responds, a smirk on her pale lips.
The screenplay, written by Mike Makowsky, effortlessly combines comedic, character-defining dialogue that siphons our affection, causing the inevitable drama to be fully effective. With only four speaking roles in the entire 93 minutes of the film, and two of them only existing in the last 30-or-so minutes, rare is the moment when the narrative wanes. We’re fully immersed in this ultra-silent world, where music reaches our ears at a deafeningly loud register. Del’s eventual liking to Grace never feels immediate or sudden; we’re taken astride as their relationship develops, pleasantly shocked when we look back and notice how much we’ve grown to care.
Actor Elle Fanning and Director Reed Morano attend the World Premiere of “I Think We’re Alone Now”. © 2018 Sundance Institute, photo by Ryan Kobane.
“I Think We’re Alone Now” is the second feature for director Reed Morano, who took home the U.S. Dramatic Special Jury Award for Excellence in Filmmaking. Morano, who previously screened at Sundance in 2015 with her directorial debut “Meadowlands”, assumed both directorial and cinematographic roles for both films. In 2017, Morano won for an Emmy for her directing work on the first season of Hulu’s original program, “The Handmaid’s Tale.” Morano’s attention to detail unmistakably radiates through each shot, leaving the audience unable to avoid the chilling sense of loneliness that envelops the characters. This post-apocalyptic masterpiece is a beautifully crafted contemplation on existence and the human experience – with an unexpected complication in the third act.
Skate Kitchen
100 Minutes, Directed by Crystal Moselle
“Skate Kitchen” follows a group of real-life female skateboarders through the streets of Manhattan as they chat about tampons and sexual preferences. Each actress has a character name, but essentially, plays a version of herself in scripted situations that have actually occurred in real life. Every scene flows with a incredibly natural sense of ease, brought about by 37-year-old director Crystal Moselle’s close relationship to the talent – they call her “mom” and consistently hang out at her apartment, whether she’s there or not. “Skate Kitchen” is Moselle’s first narrative feature after her documentary, “The Wolfpack”, took home the U.S. Grand Jury Prize in 2015.
This series of seemingly improvised scenes is threaded with dreamy slow-motion skateboarding sequences: the crop-topped girls glide between skyscrapers to songs like Khalid’s “Young Dumb & Broke”, blissfully exuding a lack of self-awareness.
With these images, Moselle crafts a contemporary portrait of young freedom and the consequences that undoubtedly come along. Bearing a strong resemblance in observational verite to Larry Clark’s 1995 opus, “Kids”, “Skate Kitchen ” is far less focused on the adventures of its male characters – focusing on the friendship between Camille (Rachelle Vinberg) and her newfound friends.
After discovering Skate Kitchen on Instagram and exchanging a few Direct Messages, Camille embarks from New Jersey to the big city, where she meets up with the girls. Soon after, she leaves her lonely suburban lifestyle and moves into Janay’s (Ardelia “DeDe” Lovelace) Brooklyn brownstone. With them, Camille smokes weed for the first time, meanders self-consciously through underground parties, and has several run-ins with the police (which they always subsequently laugh about).
Director Crystal Moselle speaks to her young cast on the streets of New York during the filming of “Skate Kitchen”. / Skull Candy
Moselle’s idea for the film surfaced after a chance encounter with Vinberg and Nina Moran (who plays the filterless, scene-stealing lesbian, Kurt) on a New York subway. Enraptured by their candid demeanor and skateboard-fueled companionship, she took down their emails and contacted them a few weeks later. After spending months with the group of girls, who go by The Skate Kitchen, she considered making a documentary about them. However, when the opportunity to create a short film came about, commissioned by designer brand Miu Miu for their Women’s Tales series, Moselle was able to explore their friendship cinematically in “That One Day”. The fashion-driven short film screened at the 2016 Cannes Film Festival where it was received an overwhelming response for more – a feature.
The only recognizable faces in the film are Elizabeth Rodriguez (“Orange is the New Black”), who plays Camille’s well-intentioned but always-working single mother, and Jaden Smith (“The Get Down”), who plays her love interest, Devon, an amateur photographer with red-dyed dreads. Whereas Rodriguez taps into a typical, methodical, theatrical performance – constantly aware of the camera to the point we never forget we’re watching an actress – Smith falls into the naturalistic mumbles of the other young talent.
Moselle insisted Smith hang out at her apartment with the rest of the girls before agreeing to cast him – so she could ensure that he’d realistically fit in with their skateboard lingo and easy dynamic. Since that day on the metro, said Moselle in an interview with Skull Candy’s Stay Loud, a large part of her social life consists of hanging out with Rachelle, Nina, DeDe, and the others from the crew. It’s this eagerness to submerge herself wholly into the niches of the Skate Kitchen that sets Moselle apart from any other narrative filmmaker today. She hasn’t embellished upon this lifestyle, merely transferred it to the screen.