Director: Josh Trett
Writer: Josh Trett
Cast: Olivia Bourne, Denise Stephenson, Sonia Soomessur, Greg Lindsay-Smith
Running time: 15mins
It’s been more than five years since Josh Trett became the first director to receive a review from Indy Film Library. The Black Shuck was a meditation on death, the grieving process, and learning to embrace life again – and in many ways Trett’s latest effort Dial is too.
This 21st century supernatural story follows Dani (Olivia Bourne) – a young artist who has given up on her dreams to care for her mother (Denise Stephenson). Dani’s mother suffers from an undefined form of early-onset dementia, and takes a heavy amount of prompting to momentarily recognise her daughter. In the pair’s opening scene together, both actors excel in their allotted roles.
Stephenson allows glimmers of brightness to escape, hints at what her character might have been like once upon a time, before the moment ebbs away and she returns to her blank expression of mild confusion. Meanwhile, Bourne conveys Dani as a character fighting back her frustrations, struggling to hold onto those echoes of the person her mother was, while sacrificing everything for the increasingly meagre scraps of that individual.
It might be said in some cases that those caring for relatives with dementia know how it is to be haunted – seeing the physical encasement of their loved ones remain as an echo of the personality that once dwelt within, and with whom the most important kinds of communication have become impossible. Trett’s story seems to draw on that parallel heavily, after the passing of Dani’s mother.
Living in the house in the weeks after the funeral, Dani begins receiving mysterious phone-calls, which initially sound like white-noise, but gradually distil into a familiar voice. While the goals of the personality on the other end of the phone are unclear at first, Trett swiftly returns to his tried-and-tested approach to the paranormal here, eventually using it as a vehicle to procure a sense of closure for his characters, and to open up discussions among the audience about life, mental illness and death.
None of which is particularly scary.
That isn’t inherently a problem, of course. A ghost story shouldn’t have to be bumps in the night, screams and sudden knocks on the door to be worth watching. As with The Black Shuck, I think that a more nuanced treatment of other-worldly mythos (treating it as a means to address and heal very real traumas) is completely in-keeping with the emotional needs which these legends were born out of in the first place. But those origins usually carry an ambiguous threat to them. There is a potential danger of gazing beyond the veil, making contact with the other side, which those daring to reach out must keep in mind – and there is not enough alluding to that here to hold an audience’s attention for 15 minutes.
There is some missed potential for at least making things seem ominous in the film’s mid-section. Beyond some musical stings and a well-conceived (but underwhelmingly delivered) scare about phone-line maintenance, there is not a lot to hint at Dani being in danger. Considering her mother’s condition when she passed – and that confused spells of aggression are part of some forms of dementia – there might have been some element of her spiritual manifestation that at least needed calming in the film. (This was a theme which the 2010 remake of Whistle and I’ll Come To You tried, and failed, to tap into, but I think there’s something in there that’s worth further exploration.)
Something else that might have helped audiences engage more earnestly with this story is for some of the modern world to have crept into the script. For example, Dani has a smartphone, but her mother has insisted on maintaining the old landline. While her reasons become clearer as the film goes on, allowing Dani (or the maintenance worker she tries to send up a telegraph pole to mend it) to at least wonder why anyone would still use such outmoded technology.
The lighting of some scenes might also divide a few viewers. Some scenes – including the one where our two leading actors are on screen – are difficult to make out, as they are partially lit, often from behind. Personally, I think it looks magnificent. The lighting, coupled with director of photography Matty Trett’s smartly choreographed cinematography, serve to give what is probably not the largest house a tremendous sense of depth – the place becomes a cavernous and shadowy domain that does lend some scenes a much-needed sense of foreboding. At the same time, it will probably look great on a cinema screen, in a blackened room – so I don’t expect the arguable problem will be so pronounced when it premieres. However, it might be something to keep in mind when preparing the film for private release.
One final note on this front is that this also seems to have had an impact on the legibility of the end credits – which is a real shame considering the hard work on display here. For his efforts as DOP, Matty Trett is lucky enough to be legible, which is just as well because his work gives the film a visual flare that elevates it above a relatively pedestrian story. But music composer Phil Archer gets a somewhat rougher deal, considering his score does a lot of heavy lifting when it comes to injecting extra emotional depth into proceedings.
Most criminally of all, though, the names of Bourne and her co-star Stephenson blend into the gently moving background, in a way which I struggled to read, even with the benefit of a rewind-button. Considering the quality of their performance, that needs amending.
It is perhaps unfair to compare it to previous work from Trett Films – artists may prefer to see each of their productions as distinct, standalone works. But it is also necessary to look back on where signs of progress appear. Dial feels like a stagnation in some regards; it does not offer much of a new take on ghostly encounters with loved ones in contrast to The Black Shuck, which hinged on seeing the famous Demon Dog in a new light; and Dial’s script is in need of a minor punch-up, to make it read a bit more naturally. But in many other ways, this is a step forward; Trett commands excellent performances from his cast; while his script might be minimalistic, his story conveys a subtle and smart metaphor about living with dementia; and his team captures a much greater level of audio-visual finesse here. If those qualities can be blended with a tad more atmosphere or perceived danger, the next time Trett Films ventures into the other world may be truly exceptional.