Jung Yu-mi and Lee Sun-kyun in ‘Sleep.’ Credit: LA SEMAINE DE LA CRITIQUE.

Sleep

At the 2023 Anomaly Film Festival, which ran November 8-12, no amount of fake skeletons in attendance or Little Theatre staff members pretending to sleep on stage could provide enough humor to mentally prepare the audience for the nightmares director Jason Yu’s feature debut “Sleep” had in store.

Set in modern-day South Korea, the film, which premiered at the 2023 Cannes Film Festival, offers a darkly exaggerated look at married life, using supernatural elements to convey how emotionally complicated marriages can be. Mixing horrific scenarios with light comedy, the film showcases a slight tonal messiness that expresses the mixed emotions that can be felt from marital strain.

In a declining relationship, it might occur to someone that their significant other does not seem like the same person they were when their romance began — as if they have been possessed by someone else. For married couple Soo-jin (Jung Yu-mi) and Hyeon-soo (Lee Sun-kyun), this metaphor becomes reality when the latter’s body is presumably taken over by a malevolent spirit.

What initially appears to be an innocent case of sleepwalking quickly escalates as Hyeon-soo’s nightly activities grow more bizarre and dangerous. His penchant for unconsciously eating raw food, uttering ominous phrases and harming himself renders Soo-jin fearful of him, especially when his behavior endangers their newborn child.

Hyeon-soo’s passive take on the situation greatly contrasts that of his wife, who bears the weight of her husband’s problems, their child’s impending birth, and interference from her overly superstitious mother. Though her husband’s condition poses certain physical challenges, Soo-jin faces greater struggles as she jeopardizes her own mental health to solve her husband’s problems and shield their infant daughter from potential harm.

Straying away from abundant gore or jump scares to better highlight its allegorical premise, “Sleep” derives much of its horror from its mystery and ambiguity. Like the troubled couple, viewers are left in the dark for most of the film regarding what is really causing Hyeon-soo’s strange behavior, whether it be a simply diagnosed sleep-disorder, or supernatural possession. When Soo-jin’s drive to unearth the source turns to crazed obsession, the line between reality and superstition is blurred as the couple struggles to find an appropriate solution.

Brimming with heart and dread, “Sleep” made for an eerily fitting inclusion to the Anomaly Film Festival. Framing its sensitive subject matter in a horrific premise, the film allowed festival-goers to revel in some suspenseful fun paired with thoughtful storytelling. — ETHAN STINSON

Vera Drew in ‘The People’s Joker.’ Credit: TORONTO INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL.

The People’s Joker

There’s no easy way to describe Vera Drew’s “The People’s Joker” that would do it any real justice. It’s a hulking mass of a film, so engrossed in both DC Comics and its own mythos that it would take a lifetime to unravel. Given that its events and characters come from Drew’s own lifetime of experiences, it’s only fair that her film is as complex as reality.

It would be easy to be apologetically queer, and “The People’s Joker” refuses to ever try. For a film that’s as irrelevant and funny as it is earnest, there are no concessions made to a cisgender or heterosexual audience (or both, god forbid) telling them it’s OK not to understand. Drew plays Joker the Harlequin as a woman possessed, demanding to be taken seriously as she dresses like a clown, lays her own trauma and experiences bare, and refuses to be contained by the powers that be.

It’s not often that a film outright warns audiences not to date comedians (a form of community service), and it comes even less often that a parody of this nature grants this much complexity to its characters and world. Far from the likes of “Scary Movie,” “The People’s Joker” really creates its own distinct characters and lets them exist together long after the laughter dies down. In a way that suits the trans experience, some jokes just aren’t that funny when they’re all a person has left.

Drawing from the work of more than 100 artists of various styles and mediums to create the film in its entirety, “The People’s Joker” is decidedly non-static, constantly changing itself at any given moment to better suit a particular artist’s work. From this, it may come across as almost messy at first, but it grants the film a form of characterization in itself. Drew’s own transition and all the individual signs and events that made her who she is are reflected back in this film, so it’s only natural it should change as each experience becomes part of the whole.

For a movie this unafraid to laugh at itself and its director, it comes across as so genuine that it would be difficult for anyone to criticize the film. “The People’s Joker” is many things, but it became that way because it, too, is a living thing — feelings and memories given their own life and voice in order to scream out at the world. — CM MCCAMBRIDGE

Phoebe Ferro in ‘Riddle of Fire.’ Credit: ANAXIA.

Riddle of Fire

A nearly thematic retelling of Homer’s “Odyssey,” Weston Razooli’s “Riddle of Fire” captures the exact magic of a childhood summer’s day.

Beginning with the simple quest of getting the password for a television’s parental controls, Razooli’s world takes on an ethereal quality in color and design. Utilizing the colors of Kodak film, the sweeping sets of warm yellows and cool blues in “Riddle of Fire” liken it to a dream.

With the script’s quick wit and the cast’s perfect tempo, the typical challenges of working with child actors seemed to disappear completely as Hazel (Charlie Stover), Alice (Phoebe Ferro) and Jodie (Skyler Peters) find their way in an ever-worsening misadventure. Far from the standard fare of child-friendly film,  the “Riddle of Fire” cast litters their conversations with the same juvenile expletives one would hear from actual children.

The set and prop design are beautifully overstated, with entire rooms being consumed by only one color. While any other film would have this feeling out of place, Razooli’s work is instead lifted by it, further placing this world as something out of time and in the limbo of hazy childhood memories.

All through the film, there’s an undercurrent of real danger that goes largely unnoticed by its core children. As time goes on and circumstances become more dire, this reality becomes unavoidable as it demands to be taken seriously.

There were countless moments where the audience members audibly reacted to changing circumstances, especially as the first real gun was drawn and fired onscreen. As if in perfect harmony, however, the same crowd laughed at every opportunity, being returned to an almost childlike state by this experience.

Razooli’s work leaves so much to love, and yet so little fluff in the two-hour runtime. While not every scene and line may initially seem to carry weight, every seed planted returns by the end, with payoff for everything shown a perfect array of dominoes falling as the plot advances. In a time when so many films seem to drag on and abandon plot threads, “Riddle of Fire” felt like a breath of fresh summer air.

Filled with excellent foley and an even better cast of children and adults nearly pulled right out of villains of myth, “Riddle of Fire” is a must-see for anyone looking to relive those days when anything could happen, and the world was still full of magic and mystery. — CM MCCAMBRIDGE

Juliette Gariépy in ‘Red Rooms.’ Credit: NEMESIS FILMS.

Red Rooms

True crime has experienced an increase of publicity in recent years, thanks to streaming services and podcasts. More recently, women have expressed the comfort they find in murder podcasts or shows, creating questions about why this is a growing phenomenon. Pascal Plante’s most recent film, “Red Rooms,” which earned 100% on Rotten Tomatoes and played at this year’s Anomaly Film Festival at The Little Theatre, dives deeper into this theory within the characters of the film as they obsess over a man accused of crimes against three young girls.

Kelly-Anne (played brilliantly by Juliette Gariepy) leaves her luxury apartment in the early hours to maintain a spot at the sinister trial of Ludovic Chevalier (Maxwell McCabe-Lokos); a small, mousy man accused of multiple heinous acts including kidnapping, murdering, and torturing three young girls then uploading the videos to the dark web.

Kelly-Anne is a successful model on the outside but holds darker truths in her personal life. Her living space is dimly lit usually by the screens of her computers. She is extremely tech savvy and a strong poker player who uses emotional weakness from players to gain profit. Writer-director Dominique Plante captures the cold, lonely Kelly-Anne in metaphorical ways, like the eerie wind that breezes through her apartment windows.

While attending the trial, Kelly-Anne meets another one of Chevalier’s “groupies,” Clementine (Laurie Babin), a strong advocate of his innocence who goes as far as broadcasting her feelings on live television. Kelly-Anne never reveals her reasons for going to the trial, but her ice-cold stare is oft more haunting than the man sitting behind the glass.

As Kelly-Anne dives deeper into her obsession with the dark web, the film continues to jump to questions as to what could happen next in this trial. The film captures not only the rise of technology with the use of creations in A.I. and privacy internet companies like “DuckDuckGo,” but shows the dark side of the internet. After an erratic display in the courtroom, Kelly-Anne finally gains the attention of Chevalier, who waves to her as she is escorted from the room. From here, a plot twist leaves a sliver of hope that morality can conquer the strongest of obsessions. — CAITLIN WRIGHT

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