Movie Review: Share (English)
Share, directed by Pippa Bianco in her feature debut, is an absolute nightmare that's all too real in the digital age we live today. The fulcrum around which the movie revolves concerns a grainy cellphone video, a little hard to discern but nonetheless suggestive and disorienting — a clip of a 16-year-old Mandy (a subdued Rhianne Barreto), blackout drunk, lying face down, unconscious in the middle of a group of boys at a party, as her crush pulls down her pants.
When frenetic messages begin up to blow up her phone and the video goes viral, she struggles to piece together the events that led to her waking up on her front lawn, once again face down on the grass, with no recollection whatsoever of how she got there from the party. But more disconcertingly, what had happened after the video ended? She has no answers.
It's a fugue like state, at once blurry, pixelated, and unnerving (ably supported by expert lenswork from Ava Berkofsky that seems to mirror Mandy's fragmented mental state through use of recurring motifs involving cars and hazy headlights), even as it lends a horrifying insight into how internet has made others' private business their business.
Bianco offers a raw, unflinching portrait of a sexual assault survivor that's both grounded and intense, a disquieting trip through the fragile psyche of a teen who is baffled that everyone around her seems to have moved on with their normal lives or looking for quick band-aid solutions while she is stuck, desperately wanting to put the past behind, but unable to do so, increasingly finding herself shut inside the confines of her home, partly blaming herself for what happened.
Even though the film wraps up neatly at the 90 minute mark, the strains of stretching the source material becomes evident, as the narrative begins to drag, beats start to feel repeated, and gets too lost in the mystery behind the video. What the film does, however, is not leave room for easy answers. One one hand, Mandy is a victim of a crime, but on the other hand, she wants to take control of her story, however unpleasant it may be. Share is that rare film that's strangely detached and up-close, and that's a testament to its bold confrontation of the complexities of sexual assault.
It's a fugue like state, at once blurry, pixelated, and unnerving (ably supported by expert lenswork from Ava Berkofsky that seems to mirror Mandy's fragmented mental state through use of recurring motifs involving cars and hazy headlights), even as it lends a horrifying insight into how internet has made others' private business their business.
Bianco offers a raw, unflinching portrait of a sexual assault survivor that's both grounded and intense, a disquieting trip through the fragile psyche of a teen who is baffled that everyone around her seems to have moved on with their normal lives or looking for quick band-aid solutions while she is stuck, desperately wanting to put the past behind, but unable to do so, increasingly finding herself shut inside the confines of her home, partly blaming herself for what happened.
Even though the film wraps up neatly at the 90 minute mark, the strains of stretching the source material becomes evident, as the narrative begins to drag, beats start to feel repeated, and gets too lost in the mystery behind the video. What the film does, however, is not leave room for easy answers. One one hand, Mandy is a victim of a crime, but on the other hand, she wants to take control of her story, however unpleasant it may be. Share is that rare film that's strangely detached and up-close, and that's a testament to its bold confrontation of the complexities of sexual assault.
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