Monster (2023): When the Truth Is Not in the Telling but in the Seeing
Not every silence is empty. Some are filled with things too heavy for words.
Friendship is undoubtedly one of the most amazing parts of queer culture—unfortunately, it can also be the worst. In Lakeview, both of those sides are on full display. Following Darcy’s divorce, all of her friends gather at her lakehouse to celebrate. Once there, they each bring their own signature mix of support and drama. Tara Thorne’s film is equal parts emotional and comedic, illustrating the beauty and the pain of long term relationships.
I watched this film as a part of Reeling Film Festival, an international LGBTQ+ film festival in Chicago. You can check out my full coverage of the festival here. As part of the festival, I was fortunate enough to attend a Q&A with Thorne, who both wrote and directed the film, and her thoughts will be littered throughout this review.
As Darcy’s friends show up to the weekend celebration, each of their own issues becomes immediately clear. Lauren (Nicole Steeves) is dating a much younger woman, Phoebe (Faly Mevamanana). It’s Phoebe’s first time in a relationship with a woman, something which is a trend for Lauren. Julien (Kathryn McCormack) and Julie Anne (Stephanie Clarke), the married couple, are pregnant but haven’t had sex in months. Lucy (Jessica Marie Brown) just got dumped by a woman everyone else hated, and Dax (Hilary Adams) might be a famous indie musician but she’s also deeply tortured.
They’ve all been friends for years, and that has created just as many issues as it has bonds. I love the way they all talk to each other in moments of distress and in the lighter times. It reminds me of the way I talk to the people I’m closest to. There’s an obvious comfort there, perhaps in part because a large portion of the cast and crew worked together on Thorne’s previous film. Whatever the reason, I instantly felt like I was a part of the group.
Lesley Smith deserves credit for the way she brings not just Darcy, but the movie itself, to life. As much as this is an ensemble, she is the heart of the film and the center of the friend group. Her persona is silly and over-the-top—I was sure watching it that she has an improv background, and Thorne confirmed it—but she manages to drop into the emotional moments seamlessly. This is a film built off of quippy one-liners that still manages to have gravitas, and Darcy is the epitome of this.
Like any good queer friend group, there’s that one girl who has fucked everyone. For Darcy’s friends, that’s Dax. While Dax hooks up with just about anyone who will have her, the truth is that she’s head over heels for Darcy. This is the first time they’ve seen each other since Darcy’s divorce, and the way the two of them reckon with their feelings is written so realistically and powerfully.
Not every silence is empty. Some are filled with things too heavy for words.
Clocking in at about four hours, Stranger Things season 4 volume 2 is the length of a double feature. Despite the length and the hype, the finale still falls short of expectations thanks to poor pacing, poor character choices, and poor diverse storytelling.