Review: One Night Only
Butter on the Latch | Josephine Decker | USA | 2013 | 70 min
Micro-Wave Cinema Series, 4070 Vilas Hall, Sunday, February 8, 7pm»
There is a moment in Butter on the Latch where someone is beating on a drum slowly, and the camera is close in on the drum itself. Each time the drum is struck, the light in the scene grows brighter. With the lush, wooded surroundings of the California location, as the light brightens, so too does the beauty of the shot. It is not an extreme increase but a subtle one. It was this moment when I realized I would have to watch this film again, not simply to “un-riddle” its oblique storytelling, but once more to savor its assured stylistic flourishes.
As the selections of the Micro-Wave Cinema Series often do, Josephine Decker’s Butter on the Latch defies easy summation. The film takes place at a camp for learning and performing Balkan folk singing and dancing. The main character, Sarah (Sarah Small), comes to the camp seeking respite from her life in Brooklyn—presented in a confusing and disturbing opening sequence—and she reunites with her old friend Isolde (Isolde Chae-Lawrence). As Sarah begins flirting with and getting to know one of the guys at the camp (Charlie Hewson), her relationship with Isolde grows considerably more complicated and harder to read. Add to this the jarring invasion of several horror and dream elements, and what results is an enjoyably bizarre film that begins with an immediate tension and ends in almost ethereal disorientation. To get a sense of what you’re in for, take a look at the trailer at the bottom of the page.
Decker demonstrates a rich and satisfying insistence of style throughout this film, which is her debut solo feature (previously, she co-directed a documentary feature). Thanks to both the setting and cinematographer Ashley Connor’s keen eye, I haven’t seen a more verdant-looking film—literally or figuratively—in quite some time. A quick series of low-angle POV shots at the beginning of the film re-envision the road trip, combining a natural wonder with hints of disquiet. In the scene where Isolde tells Sarah about a massage she recently got, the close-ups and reframing—in conjunction with Decker’s skillful editing—work to create a real sense of tactility and intimacy between Sarah and Isolde. The sound design is cacophonous in one moment, serene in the next. All of these aesthetic touches blend to render Sarah’s emotional dissonance with a unified stylistic sensibility.
The most noticeable stylistic element is the focus—specifically the many shots that are gorgeously out of focus. The first few that you see, you take as visual trappings of the indie film. In particular, I think of the out of focus lights in the dance hall, which are quite lovely. As the film moves on, and these out of focus shots grow more persistent. Their aesthetic beauty remains, but as they grow more into a pattern, so too does our uncertainty grow about what is happening on screen, particularly as the frequency of Sarah’s dreaming increases. With this choice, Decker exhibits well-earned confidence in her visual style.
You may wonder why I’ve spent so much time on technique as opposed to the story or the acting, both of which I found outstanding. First, as with my review of a film in last fall’s Micro-Wave series, Hawaiian Punch, my attempts at fleshing out the story would do you disservice. The films in this series live at the edge of narrative, and their experiential nature is something with which you should engage directly. Butter on the Latch is no different. Second, this focus on style in support of more associative storytelling gets at one of series’ founder Brandon Colvin’s goals with Micro-Wave Cinema: to expose Madison filmgoers to a different kind of American independent cinema. It’s also heartening to see Colvin following up on his commitment to get more women filmmakers involved in the series.
In addition to Butter on the Latch, you’ll also be able to catch Decker’s next film, Thou Wast Mild & Lovely. In addition to the double feature, as it is with all Micro-Wave films, the director herself will be available for a Q&A via Skype afterward. If the latter film is even half as interesting as the former, we have a lot to look forward to from Josephine Decker, both from Sunday night’s screening and from her work in the future.