Sundance 2015: H. Review

Release Date:   TBD
MPAA Rating:   NR
Directors:   Rania Attieh and Daniel Garcia

The Greek tragedy of Helen of Troy gets a modern retelling in Rania Attieh and Daniel Garcia’s H, updating the action to Troy, NY with two separate Helens living out their lives concurrently; the first Helen is in her 60s (Robin Bartlett), living with her husband Roy, while the other Helen (Rebecca Dayan) is a successful artist in her 30s that also happens to be four months pregnant. Broken into four chapters, H. switches the focus between the two Helens, piling on the peculiarities in an endless stream of battling tones – one, a domestic drama and the other, an otherworldly tale of puzzling events stemming from an explosion in the sky and a giant stone head floating in the water.

Strange things have been happening in and around the two Helen’s hometown; everything is leaking, gravity is acting without any rhyme or reason and there may even be a black stallion roaming around the streets of Troy. The scope of these peculiar instances vary, ranging from fleeting moments of slight strangeness to the more panic-inducing occurrences of missing people and wall staring.

That’s not to say that things were entirely normal before the explosion and floating stone sculpture. Nothing is as it seems and I’m not talking about the endless array of leaky vessels or things falling upwards. I’m talking about 60s Helen caring for an extremely lifelike baby doll as if it were a real baby; spouses wishing death on each other; and, strained relationships all around while emotions and feelings never seem to be a topic of discussion.

The oddities of H. are all captured and presented realistically and nonchalantly, infusing the film’s pervading cryptic atmosphere with an unsettling air of dread and unpredictability. A mixture that culminates in a stream of anxious anticipation that runs underneath of the first half as H.’s mysterious narrative unfolds with a measured pace. Unfortunately, the cultivated intrigue slowly begins to dissipate as the plot’s pace reduces itself to a collective of meandering moments lost within the aftermath of bizarre events, unable to regain its footing.

Attieh and Garcia skillfully develop and maintain an overall atmosphere of detachment keeping the viewer at arm’s length right through to the end. H.’s coldness is accomplished through Garcia’s indifferent lens (he’s also the film’s cinematographer) of forbidding frames along with a musical score of dejected piano and strings. These aspects complement each other nicely while the actors keep their character’s motivations and emotions tucked away just below the surface further adding to the enigmatic energy of the proceedings.

H. makes for a compelling experience early on; a puzzle of a film that keeps you guessing and anticipating further developments, eagerly piecing it together initially, but then slowly growing tired of piece after piece of unwelcoming grey. Regrettably taking the detachment a bit too far as the film progresses as the character’s hidden motives and mind states leave little to connect with and invest in, pushing the viewer further and further away.