(Canada, 90 min.)
Written and directed by Stephen Dunn
Starring: Connor Jessup, Aaron Abrams, Isabella Rossellini,
Joanne Kelly, Aliocha Schneider, Sofia Banzhaf, Mary Walsh, Igor Pugdog
 |
| Photo courtesy of TIFF. |
We wanted more from Stephen Dunn and now we have it. The
up-and-coming Canadian director builds on the confidence he already established
in short films like We Wanted More, Life Doesn’t Frighten Me, and others
with his feature debut Closet Monster.
Closet Monster, which won the prize
for Best Canadian Film at the 2015 Toronto International Film Festival, shows
Dunn’s originality on a bigger, bolder canvas, especially for the washes of
colour that fill the screen and the fully layered soundtrack that makes the
film so intense. Monster is a beauty
and a beast.
Closet Monster offers a coming-of-age and coming-out-of-the-closet story as teen Oscar (played by Blackbird’s Connor Jessup) wrestles with the demon gurgling in his stomach as he tries to reconcile conflicting emotions. On one level, Oscar thrives thanks to the love he feels for co-worker Wilder (Aliocha Schneider, Ville-Marie). It’s the first time he experiences this warming sensation. On the other hand, Oscar bubbles with intense shame for having this strong desire for another boy. A toxic mix of incompatible desires makes Oscar ready to explode.
Closet Monster
expands upon the strong, at times crippling, current of self-hate that runs
through Oscar by introducing the stigma of being gay in a small town with a
powerful and violent prologue in which the young boy (played by Jack Fulton in
the early scenes) witnesses some schoolyard bullies beat and sodomize a
classmate with a metal rod. Oscar carries the image within him as a constant
reminder as the danger he faces for coming out and/or being discovered. The
image of the rod appears throughout the film as an ominous counterpoint to the
pleasures Oscar finds in the male body—and the phallic nature of the rod can’t
be missed as it stabs through the boy as he explores his own body. The monster
within Oscar’s belly bubbles like an alien form from Videodrome. The body horror occasionally removes the viewer from
the film with the jarring tonal shift it brings (it adds about one generic
element too many to the film), but it also works as a fine extension of the
techniques that Oscar develops as a make-up artist as he fashions prosthetics
in his adolescence. It’s a violent and ultimately empowering image.
Oscar finds the strength to confront his small town’s homophobia
as he grows up under the hot-bloodedly male guidance of his father, Peter
(Aaron Abrams). Some of Peter’s early words of advice to Oscar about chasing
girls and watching the length of his hair are a little on the nose, but the
film has a firm handle on the loose/lame generalizations that people carry to
straighten kids out at a young age. Similarly, the old trick with the fingernails
reminds viewers of how silly the schoolyard can be, but it returns later in the
film for an effective example of how Oscar internalizes the schoolyard stigma
and carries it as a part of his identity he needs to shed.
Oscar doesn’t have an easy time growing up, but he finds
guidance, solace, and companionship in one trusty friend: his hamster, Buffy,
who acts like a guardian angel throughout Oscar’s youth. Closet Monster finds a genuine stroke of artfully comedic genius in
Oscar’s conversations with Buffy by casting the great Isabella Rossellini (Blue Velvet) as the voice of Oscar’s
hamster. Rossellini has the right comedic tint to her vocals and she offers a
droll, slightly off-kilter voice of reason. Her vocal performance is a
highlight of the film and it’s a great companion to her recent work in Joy as another wildly funny and
scene-stealing performance.
Dunn shows ample confidence with his actors as Closet Monster draws strong performances
from key members of the cast. Jessup gives a gutsy and revelatory performance as Oscar. (Gutsy not for playing gay but for tackling a role of such range and emotionally vulnerability.) He carries virtually every
frame of the film (save for the opener) and lets the viewer experience the wide
range of Oscar’s emotions. Abrams, similarly, strikes the right chord of menace
as Peter, but he’s also effectively relatable as a product of his old-school
upbringing.
Closet Monster
challenges Oscar to overcome the beasts in both his home and his own body as
the film puts him on an inevitable collision. Oscar’s desire to proclaim his
love for Wilder runs parallel with Peter’s own gradual realization of his son’s
sexuality. The film differs from other coming-out dramas by making Oscar cognizant
of his sexual orientation from the outset thanks to his close relationship with
his friend Gemma (Sofia Banzhaf), and the difference with which Jessup carries
himself in the company of Oscar’s various friends and family members speaks to
the elements of containment and fear that hold Oscar back. Similarly, the film
rejects a conventional coming-out-catharsis, as Oscar’s admission of his
sexuality comes in two climatic moments: a violent (and ironic) trip into a
closet and the confrontation with the monster clawing its way through his
stomach.
The film loosely draws on Dunn’s experience growing up in
St. John’s, Newfoundland, and it contributes to the burgeoning crop of films
coming out of Newfoundland (see: Cast No Shadow, Hold Fast) and to the
bright and colourful Canuck queer canon of the Xavier Dolan age. Like Dolan’s
debut I Killed My Mother, Closet Mother bracingly pops out of the
screen with a vibrant, flamboyant palette of colours, and a euphoric soundtrack
that makes the heart swell. Like I Killed
My Mother, it also has a few too many thematic and aesthetic ideas swimming
together, but the originality of vision outweighs the unevenness and
inconsistencies in the material. This personal debut shows much promise.
Closet Monster screens as part of the Canada’s Top Ten festival.
It plays again at the
Lightbox on Saturday, Jan. 16 with actor Connor Jessup and producer Fraser Ash
in attendance.
Closet Monster opens in theatres this summer from Elevation
Pictures.
