High Maintenance by Arsa Dhima

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XYhGO8WHqz0

            Dhima has created a film that speaks volumes about relationships and gender. In regards to relationships, the woman's quickness to terminate the marriage for a new "model" operates as a direct parallel to our cultures expendable view of relationships. As divorce rates in our society climb, marriages are entered hastily and treated loosely. Dhima seems to commenting on the fact that marriages are often viewed as consumer relationships. As the woman's desires and expectations change, so must her mate or model. The viewer can infer from her Internet shopping for the replacement husband that she was afforded the same freedom of choice of her first model/husband. As a result, the viewer knows that her first husband, at some point in time, represented the woman's desires for a mate.  The woman's callousness toward such a drastic life change, mechanically kissing the old husband being hauled away while transferring the wedding band to her new model, confirms Dhirma's commentary on our culture's lightheartedness toward something so intimate and emotionally impactful.

            I also thought Dhirma's attention to sound was a powerful component in her film. For example, the opening scene of the couple chewing in stereo, revealed the "robotic" nature of their intimacy. The truth Dhirma seemed to be aiming at is how rote relationships can become if spouses become too self-involved and disconnected. In this way, the fantasy of each spouse's robotic nature becomes not only great science fiction, but a warning to all those who've neglected their spouse's needs.

            Gender played a powerful role in the physical choices and actions of Dhima's characters, as well. For example, the last scene shows the new rugged, adventurous male, massaging his elated wife, while asking her to recount her day. It would appear that she's found the perfect model husband, a balance of masculine spontaneity and romantic sensitivity, but his ulterior motives are revealed when she herself is ironically powered down so that he can drink a beer, smoke, and watch TV in peace. Dhirma seems to not only be espousing some gender stereotypes, but she also seems to be saying that no matter how acutely a potential mate meets our checklist, they will still be flawed, because they will still be human.

"The Most Beautiful Thing" by Cameron Covell

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IP8psM4LWXk

            Cameron Covell creates character need from the first scene. Framing Brandon in the empty courtyard on the iron seats foreshadows the eventual filling of that seat, but before Emily fills the seat, it symbolizes the boy's feelings of isolation and estrangement from his peers, which the viewer can only infer either from his somewhat scrawny stature, glasses, or the scar from his cleft lip. Even where the title appears, over Emily's eventual placement, hints at what our protagonist longs for.

            I also was drawn in by Covell's attention to camera angles. The camera almost stalks Brandon's lonely monotony, his classmates blurred and shrinking in the lens' periphery. Everywhere Brandon looks in the opening shots, there are people interacting and connecting at an arms length who are seemingly oblivious to his existence.

            The prom flyer's prompt and subtle placement amplifies the character's desperation for acceptance and intimacy. The viewer, too, senses this need and wants it for the lonely protagonist.

            Brandon's innocence and awkwardness are made evident when he stumbles on the couple kissing. Even at home Brandon seems forgotten, which only adds to his already lamentable plight.

             I love the complete change in tone when Emily enters Brandon's life. Covell chose the perfect musical track as the background for the friendship montage that ensues after they meet for the first time. It creates a brilliant contrast from the somber ambient music that starts the film with its upbeat rhythm under a distorted, major chord progression.

            Every film needs a villain, and the brash young blonde who pushes himself onto Emily embodies it well. His emergence adds needed tension and struggle to the film. Love and intimacy are never achieved without struggle or sacrifice so why should this hero be any different.

            Regardless of each character's social "limitation" or "deficiency," they're able to find someone who redeems and even loves them for those things. Covell does an amazing job of expressing the inexpressible through these character's need and desperation for each other. There's something empowering in this film. Emily's willingness to make herself vulnerable in front of Brandon shows that even love can overcome our own inhibitions and social scarring.