Review of "Name" - a Short Post-Zombie-Apocalypse Film

What’s in a name? For our lead protagonist, the one thing she can’t remember about the man she loved, a man who died violently from an outbreak that decimated the human race, is his name. All the memories of shared laughs, tears, and lust are there — but why can she not just remember his name?

The irony of this short film, directed by Jeremy M. Brown, is that neither the man or the woman who are the focus of this story, have a name. They are credited neatly as “Woman” and “Man”. But as Woman continues to dwell over emotional memories of what love and life were like before the end of mankind, which has left her stranded and alone in a desolate world, she struggles to remember just that one last detail: what was his name?

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Review of "Malady", a European downer with plenty of sex

“Malady” is a dark & moody film, slow to build, and very light on the dialogue, but luckily there’s plenty of sex to stave off any depression. It’s on the verge of being an art film, as the nearly 1hr-40min. running time has only about 15 minutes of story within, and even adding to that the 20 minutes of sex, the audience is still left with over an hour of the director/cinematographer basically getting off on his own shot compositions. Granted, the camerawork is often stunning, but there’s just too much “hang time” between any pivotal moments that I found it easy to fall out of the film completely and start to check on things like my laundry, the dishes, and if the pets were fed. If not for the repeated impromptu sex, I may have never finished this film at all.

The story itself is intriguing at first, although more in the way of “why would she even…” than, “ooh, what is this about and where is it going.” The story opens with an attractive girl who is heartbroken at the death of her mother. When she goes out for a meal, she sees a random guy who has all the warning signs of a natural creep: vacant eyes, unkempt beard, and he is a scab-picker. So, against the whim of any intelligent woman, she tracks him down, they have a staring contest, and she decides to go back to his flat with him, no words spoken. Then they fuck – and they fuck a lot in this film. But where Holly should have written this experience off as a one-night stand, her Catholic guilt (or Protestant guilt, or whichever other guilt comes from wearing a cross around your neck) seems to persuade her to stay with Matthew, likely with the idea that she can help him in some way, any way.

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Review of "Sad Clown", a short film

What do you do if your job is to make people laugh, but you can’t find joy for yourself? 

I recently watched Jason ’P. Schumacher’s short film, “Sad Clown”, a new 11-minute story featuring the tortured but treasured and timeless character. The film opens with a professional clown, putting on his makeup before a live show. The ringmaster enters and is alarmed, as this clown is not wearing a big red smile, but instead is in the process of painting on a frown and little blue teardrops. How can this be? With the show only moments from starting, what can be done to make this clown change his mood?

While in the traditional story of the clown and the doctor, we never know why the clown is depressed, but in “Sad Clown”, we learn the history… a jovial clown, once in love with a beautiful lady clown, has had his happiness whisked away by the whizz-bang flash of the circus magician… or should I say, illusionist? And now, this poor clown has no joy left to share with the world.

Read the Full Review at BeaverMedia.net