All kinds of wacky shenanigans and general mayhem happen
over the holidays as old friends, now scattered to winds, return to their
former homes, see faces they haven’t seen in years, revisit old haunts and
wounds, and take stock of their lives. In the case of Michael Kerry Matthews
and Thomas Matthews’ microbudget mumblecore noir, LostHoliday, this set up includes becoming amateur detectives and trying
to solve a kidnapping.
Home for Christmas and New Year’s, hipster pals Margaret
(Kate Lyn Sheil, You’re Next) and Henry (co-writer and
director Thomas Matthews) wallow in misery as they watch their friends move
forward, start families, and basically be better at life. At least until, after
a night of drug-fueled tomfoolery and hook ups, they find themselves hot on the
trail of a mystery they believe only they can solve. What begins as an
existential buddy comedy morphs into an indie thriller where they make use of
their extensive knowledge of what cops do in movies and TV to crack the case.
Lost Holiday presents a quirky twist on
the formula, filtering the angsty, mumblecore playbook through a detective
story filter. Shot on 16mm, the film has a heavily improvised feel, the
locations all have a lived-in sensation—I’m willing to bet they’re the
real-life homes of the filmmakers’ friends, family members, and extras—and the
whole thing gives off a sparse Dogme ’95 vibe, like it’s an American cousin.
In a big picture sense, the mystery is beside the point. It’s
not about solving the case and saving the day, it provides a drive and focus
Margaret doesn’t otherwise have. Seeing her friends grow and evolve, especially
her ex (The Good Place’s William Jackson Harper), sends her
into a self-numbing downward spiral. While other people progress, she remains
stuck in place, clinging to her series of ironic lifestyle choices, like having
a flip phone, using a Discman, and doing VHS aerobics workouts.
Where Lost Holiday is most successful is
in capturing the aimless ennui of a certain age. We’re used to teenage
coming-of-age stories, but this is essentially the next step. Now in their 30s
but continuing to fuck around like they’re in their 20s, it’s about aging and
still not having any defined direction. Kate Lyn Sheil’s fantastic performance
embodies this. Pretending not to give a damn on the outside, while melting down
and freaking out internally, she grabs onto the mystery with both hands and
clutches it for dear life like a life vest.
Henry is in the same boat, drifting, wandering, purposeless,
but while Matthews provides entertainment, he lacks Maggie’s depth. He’s the
wacky, wise-cracking sidekick with constant bedhead, an eternal smirk, and no
real grasp of the stakes. When the gravity of the situation truly dawns on
them, when they realize there are actual life-and-death consequences to doing
things like crossing angry Russian drug dealers and actual bad guys, it takes them by surprise. Up
to a certain point, they play detective, relying on a sense of unreality and
entitlement, until the game turns very real.
Even at a lean 75-minutes, the loose narrative runs its
course and meanders around a bit—this partially feels intentional, to mirror
the rudderless protagonists, but it also impacts the pace. Based on your
tolerance for character quirks and eccentric foibles, your mileage on
Lost Holiday may vary—it’s easy to imagine Margaret and
Henry annoying the crap out of some viewers, though others will surely find the
shoestring, meditative indie noir endearing. [Grade: B]
Check out the rest of our Slamdance 2019 coverage here.
Check out the rest of our Slamdance 2019 coverage here.
No comments:
Post a Comment