Hold

The film begins simply enough. A man flirts with a girl at a party, dismissing it, “No, actually I was looking at the girl next to you.” It’s a conventional Meet Cute fake-out; the couple turn out to be Alan (Robby Storey) and Laura Marsh (Stephanie Rhodes).

The opening scene establishes a healthy, romantic relationship between the two principals, as well as their social dynamic before tragedy strikes. Laura is gregarious, self-assured and motivated—currently working on her Master’s thesis. Alan is a loving, yet insecure in the company of other men, or rather, independent men and women—including his wife.

Save for a conversation on the drive home, in which Ms. Rhodes shows her acting chops with her character’s muted offense to an insensitive remark by Alan, very little setup is given to the characters. First-time feature director Frank Mosley avoids overt exposition. Instead, after Alan leaves for work one day, the camera pauses on a street-level shot of the house for several seconds—no music. One’s immediate reaction may be puzzlement at both the duration of the shot, as well as the flat angle. It’s the last time you see the whole exterior—the household as one.

The very next shot reveals a battered Laura, recounting her brutal assault and rape. Ms. Rhodes breaks the fourth wall, looking directly at us. This moment connects us viscerally with her character so that in the second act, as their relationship begins to unravel, we identify instinctively with her. From here, the film steps away from the contrivances of plot by abandoning it entirely. Instead, a character study ensues.

The conventional picture would lead with the faulty premise that Laura is the only victim suffering Rape Trauma Syndrome—a theory first published in the American Journal of Psychiatry (September 1974) by psychiatrist Ann Burgess and sociologist Lynda Holmstrom. However, as Laura enters the Resolution Phase of the recovery process, Alan becomes more depressed and paranoid. Feeling impotent at home, distracted at work, Alan appears increasingly disconnected from his wife. Contrary to her perceptions, it’s not that he thinks she’s damaged. He’s paralyzed by fear of inadequacy. What does a husband do in this situation? Do you act supportive? Do you keep your distance and let her heal? She hasn’t lost trust in all humanity because of one person. Alan is the one man in whose trust she should be able to confide. But this story isn’t as simple-minded as an argument, a bitter divorce, and vigilante justice. That’s the way Hollywood would resolve it, by resorting to cheap titillation. Violence porn this is not.

As Gaspar Noé’s Irreversible demonstrates without compromise or sensationalism, rape is not an action sequence. However, that film’s plot quickly descends into vigilantism and is only pardoned by a twist manufactured by the film’s reverse chronology. In Mr. Mosley’s hands, closure isn’t an action sequence either. As with Michel Gondry’s Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, we observe the idiosyncrasies of surviving threats to the stability of a relationship. Here, we see it from both perspectives.

This dichotomy of male and female psychology is cleverly defined in a single scene, in which Laura’s mother advises the indecisive Alan, “Let her sleep,” demonstrating the wisdom of a woman’s needs. Not more than a beat later, she intones, “The shower head still drips.” The director demonstrates some lack of certitude in this scene by peppering the rest of the film with Alan’s unresourcefulness. Car troubles, security system troubles—his inefficacy knows no bounds. One ponders under what desperate circumstances these two had met. This is almost nitpicking, however. There are many personality dynamics at work in attraction.

The only flaws in the film rest in the editing and cinematography. Director of Photography Ron Gonzales relies on racked focus too often to convey isolation, failing to demonstrate the skill with which to justify its use. I can’t count the number of independent films I’ve seen in which one actor in the foreground is occupied in contemplation while a body part of the other is engaged in a physical task, shot with a shallow depth of field to beat us in the head with equally shallow symbolism. Filmed on HDCAM, the weaknesses of digital cinematography show in a scene where Alan enters a pawn shop. The sudden brightness adjustment and washed-out color suggest a voyeur’s camera following him into the store—a point of view controverted immediately by the cut to a two-shot of Alan with the clerk (Arianne Martin), whose nose ring is so obnoxiously large it commands your attention away from the dialogue. While admittedly one of the most complicated set-ups for a cinematographer, a three-shot in the opening—a dialogue between Alan, Laura and her co-worker Eric (John Elliott)—is edited haphazardly. The actors’ reactions to one another inexplicably are exactly one beat off.

These issues, again, arise to some extent as a consequence of low-budget filmmaking. On the other hand, the filmmakers show their craft in several places, as with a scene at the church in which Laura feels eyes leering at her. She’s comforted by a child over a mother’s shoulder who smiles at her. A Hollywood production more than likely would have demolished the purpose of the scene by mistakenly having the child cry and seek consolation from the sight of Laura’s bruises—a completely absurd reaction for an innocent child, but a wonderfully cheap dramatic device.

That said, the film is a good first effort for Frank Mosley, who reportedly expanded what was a short subject film into a well-acted, well-written, eighty-five minute feature. On their limited budget, it may be the added scenes where quality was compromised. While Mr. Storey’s acting fails to match Ms. Rhodes subtle touches, as the screenwriter he penned an insightful story unfettered by clichés. The supporting cast members including Jeri Smith as Laura’s mother, Nina, perform adequately on a budget of this scale. I would certainly like to see the production value of a bigger-budget film written, directed and acted by this team.

Originally premiered in 2009, Hold was exhibited this week at the 2010 Dallas International Film Festival.

Hold • Dolby® Digital surround sound in select theatres • Aspect Ratio: 1.85:1 • Running Time: 90 minutes • MPAA Rating: Not Rated