Steven
Warren is a lot like Dana Andrews in Laura,
but he is also struggling with PTSD, as well as an impossible crush. It is
hard to blame the Afghanistan veteran for obsessing over Diane Faye, because
her body was found in his yard. Maybe the interest is not completely one-sided
either, since the dead woman might possibly be communicating with him through
dreams and visions, but they become increasingly sinister in Michael Mongillo’s
Diane (trailer here), which opens this
Friday in Los Angeles.
Right,
Warren just woke up one morning and found the late Faye in his yard. First
thing he did was take a picture on his phone. Then he called the police. For some
reason, they are determined to rake him over the coals, but there is nothing linking
her and Warren, except the obvious. It is too bad he lives in Connecticut
rather than New York City, because the NYPD would probably have more respect for
a combat veteran. Frankly, the New London coppers are almost as bad as his
jerkheel neighbors, but they will be totally bored and frustrated staking out
his house.
It
might not look like Warren is doing much, but inside, he is starting to lose it
in a big way. Even he is confused by the way Faye is twisting up his thoughts. Yet,
in a weird, totally messed up kind of way, she spurs Warren to reassert control
over some aspects of his sad, mopey life, albeit from beyond the grave, or as a
delusional figment.
This
is a hard film to write up, for dozens of reasons, starting off with the tricky
business of classifying just what exactly it is. Diane has played at a number of horror festivals, but it is
unlikely to scare any genre fans. Yet, it has some supernatural imagery that
will give the Heisman to anyone hoping for a procedural or a domestic thriller.
It is definitely dark, but its moodiness is even more pronounced. It is
important to understand Mongillo does not merely use PTSD as an exploitative device.
It is really at the core of what this film is all about, along with guilt,
loneliness, and obsession.
So,
doesn’t that sound like fun? Yet, Diane
still has some interesting white picket thriller stuff going on. Jason Alan
Smith and Carlee Avers are also quite compelling as Warren and Faye, which
helps a lot. Mongillo tries to make a virtue out necessity, doubling down on
the film’s grungy, purchased-from-Salvation Army look and vibe, with mostly positive
results. Regardless, it is another reason why Diane requires viewers to work with it, more than a little.
There
are rough edges all over Diane, but
it is still a hard film to shake off. It is also tricky to pass critical
judgment on it. I would not hesitate to recommend it to colleagues who see
dozens of films each week, because they should be able to appreciate what makes
it distinctive and different. However, consumers who only see a few movies a
month, often featuring people wearing capes, will most likely be put off by its
betwixt-and-between natures, as well as its ultra-DIY production values. You
know who you are, so considered yourself advised. For more receptive genre
patrons, Diane opens this Friday
(9/7) in LA, at the Arena Cinelounge.