It was strange returning to the WPU Student Film Festival last Friday. I had organized the event throughout half of my college career, and I had feared that the bulk of the talent and ambition graduated with my class. This wasn't entirely true, as many of the films were witty and entertaining, if a little rough around the edges (par for the course with student films), but many noted a significant drop in quality since previous years.
Two hours of meandering dialogue, poor sound quality, shaky camerawork, and graphic torture soured even the better elements of most of the films, and as the night neared its end, everyone seemed to have resigned themselves to disappointment. When the last film began to roll, no one suspected, even remotely, that it would redeem the entire night.
Yet within minutes our jaws dropped, we leaned forward, and trembled in anticipation for the next moment. Since when do student films look and feel like this?
"Perfection" stands as a testament to what possible with a little creativity, some ambition, a traffic flare, and massive cajones. Its otherworldly atmosphere ranks on par with The Descent, the Silent Hill games, and Andrei Tarkovsky's masterpiece Stalker. Shot entirely (without permission) at Newark's abandoned Essex County Jail, it presents an underworld of rust and grime, where sacrifices are repaid with trickery and everything is an illusion.
Now, you've probably seen films that look like this, but it gains more weight when you realize that you're not looking at a set, that the dirt and the rust were there before the film, that desperate men and wicked men lived and died there, trapped by their own desires and misfortunes. To the characters, this is nightmare and mysticism; to us, this is reality.
These are things you might consider as we follow our protagonist (unnamed, but you might already know of him) deeper into the abyss, searching for -- well, I'm not about to spoil that. What are any of us searching for? He has several visions and encounters along the way, but the real fear comes from the harsh shadows that seem dangerously close to devouring him.
The low light is a mixed blessing. With the dread of the atmosphere also comes the limits of the low-budget technology. Grain and low image resolution might distract some pickier viewers, and the brighter scenes might cross the line between juxtaposing to the darkness and simply being overexposed. I didn't mind. If anything, I felt that director Andre Rivera used the shortcomings of miniDV to his advantage. The film isn't polished, and it shouldn't be. This is a dirty film, and the cinematography reflects that.
Even if the footage does lose some of the atmosphere, however, the soundtrack adds such richness to the environment that it doesn't matter. Footsteps echo reluctantly through the corridors, serenaded by a woeful guitar and the hum of supernatural energy. You can feel the sounds leading you in deeper as the reverberations from the Inferno's center grow louder.
Andre assures me that he plans on shopping this around to festivals. I'd keep an eye out for this one, because I can't praise it highly enough. The sounds and setting envelope you, and when the film ends, you feel as though you've experienced something projected from your deepest inner fantasies. And nightmares.
