“Into the Silent Sea” (2013)

By Colleen Rowe

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(Andrej Landin post-screening of “Into the Silent Sea” at the 19th annual Stony Brook Film Festival, July 2014)

Filmmaker, Andrej Landin’s film, “Into the Silent Sea,” reveals a premise that surpasses the meaning of “short” by its simple definition. Powerfully presented, this 25 minute short taps into the emotions that wither in a man’s heart as he partakes in a journey that might be directly responsible for his emotional and physical demise.

Alexander (Zack Sayenko), a young cosmonaut, is assigned to a mission to space that has not been fully prepared. To beat the Americans, Russia must prevail in space travel and advanced technology. The larger premise revolves around Alexander’s physical and mental journey as he faces complications far away from a civilized world. Andrej Landin had explained during a Q & A at the 19th Annual Stony Brook Film Festival that he had been reading Joseph Conrad’s book, “Heart of Darkness,” and the sense of solitude that invades its pages inspired him to capture that isolation in a different way.

Why is this concept so unique? The setting is relevant to the story, but it isn’t crucial in comparison to the other aspects of this film. It is not the placing of Alexander, but the conversation he has with Italian radio engineer, Alvaro (Peter Arpesella). Alvaro picks up the astronaut’s call for rescue and they seem to become acquaintances that potentially change each other’s lives.

At times, why is it easier to speak with a stranger? The interaction is partially anonymous.

Reliving past experiences with his fellow astronaut and lover, Tanya (Tatiana DeKhtyar), Alexander tells a tale of immediate attraction and unexpected deception. The conversation between these two men via long-distance radio communication technology fills blanks into Alexander’s life and suddenly viewers feel that they experienced it with him.

There’s a retrospective scene that is particularly captivating: as the sun sets, the two young cosmonaut lovers, Alexander and Tanya, walk in a field that is worlds away from the deteriorating space craft Alexander is exiled to. Visually, this scene was necessary, depicting a safe place—a happy time—with the sky’s natural aesthetics to soften the film’s generally dark tone.

There’s a lot to be said about “Into the Silent Sea,” but my first response to those who inquire about it is: just watch it.

Depending on each viewer’s individual experiences with love and loss, this film has the potential to produce uniquely original and differing views. Controversial, challenging, and directed with purpose, this short film achieves in portraying a powerful message: Regardless of the familiar groups we identify with, it is sometimes strangers who save us from all-encompassing inner turmoil.

“Into the Silent Sea” Awards:

San Luis OBISPO International Film festival 2014 Best Student Film, BAFTA Los Angeles Grand Jury Prize 2013, Stony Brook Film Festival Special Jury Recognition 2014, Santa Fe Independent Film Festival Best Narrative Short 2013.

More: Facebook.com/IntoTheSilentSea

Feature Film “Leaving Circadia”: How Does Art Define its Creator?

By Colleen Rowe

Behind its “feel good” effect, Evan Mathew Weinstein’s feature film, “Leaving Circadia,” is laced with serious undertones circulating around semi-harmless manipulation and the everyday struggles artists, and people, face in a world filled with aesthetically presentable competition.

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“Leaving Circadia” circulates around the life of resident manager, “super,” Tom’s interactions with the people around him—friends, his boss, and initially unfriendly, but occasionally respectable acquaintances. Tom is played by Evan Mathew Weinstein, who is not only the director, but also the writer and executive producer of the film. Portrayed as a somewhat hopeless stoner with limited obligations and a knack for painting, Tom lives his pointless life as if he is a promoter for the nonconformist lazy man. His character, initially likable, even with his untactful commentary, becomes even more engaging as the film progresses. There are times when his manipulations are harmlessly, for lack of better words, cute. His encounters with the noticeably attractive Collette, played by Larisa Polonsky, shed the covering of his comical outer persona and allow audiences to see him beneath his protective guise. As viewers, we remain suspicious of his motives that are intertwined with benign manipulation.

The few side-plots featuring the various characters in Tom’s life are memorable in their brevity—including an interaction between two lovers as they talk in a bathtub. These simple sentiments are some that all viewers can relate to on a personal level. Those moments that are so private, but all-encompassing, portrayed and likened to be interactions that probably have happened in real life situations. They are charming, realistic even—this is what makes “Leaving Circadia” so appealing, with its character stereotypes shaded with the individualistic behaviors that can be found in real people who aren’t performing for a camera. A few shots involving the major characters throughout their day at a park and its surroundings, the sun setting in the distance, remain the most aesthetically memorable throughout the film. A shot of the sunlight between trees—it strikes you suddenly like a glaring focus.

Aside from Collette, his boss plays one of the most important roles in his life, similar to an overbearing father who gives many chances, but also expects too much. Played by Joseph R. Gannascoli, Nat is a self-serving, mercurial individual who often criticizes Tom on his most obvious flaws: slothfulness, irresponsibility, and folly. He rightfully demands Tom’s time, because, as he explains to the aloof stoner, it is his job, but he is unreasonable in his expectations—even if Tom had been a hard-working, reliable character. Nat sheds light on Tom’s inactivity, forcing viewers to see that he isn’t doing enough, regardless of how rudely he interacts with him. As viewers start to see Tom through Nat’s viewpoint, they might wonder: who is in the right here? The supermodel-toting, Bluetooth-obsessed Nat has a valid point, but we are already on Tom’s side because he is so easy to empathize with. Before dismissing Nat as a typical, “jerk” boss, consider his character’s accusations as credible, as he has probably known Tom for an elongated period of time.

Aside from acting as the visual muse and emotional stability for Tom, Colette plays a key, inspiring role that transcends Nat’s introspective assessments. She offers her advice to Tom, upon seeing his art for the first time, to sign paintings, sell them—to get his work out there. She sees talent past this major “hopeless” category that Tom is fit into by his peers. Why hasn’t Tom, who is so quick to attempt to win money in poker bets, taken advantage of marketing his immense artistic talent? He answers this later during a reflective moment with a friend: “My dad was an artist, talented. At his easel, cigar in his mouth. The art world is a brutal place. Somewhere along the way, it broke him. I watched that light go out. I was always afraid that would happen to me.”

Tom eventually takes back control of his life, something that Collette is directly responsible for—picking up his art, brushing off the dirt, and offering it as a piece to sell. Before you put your “trash,” the work that made you so horribly mad, to the curb think about its effect on others. It is validated that Tom is not the potential that Collette thought he was, but that he is an artist.

If you’re not going to allow the light to shine, it will never be lit. How will it ever go out? That’s the equivalent of hiding in a dark closet, waiting for your captor to find you. If you leave your protective cage before that darkness you fear discovers your whereabouts, you might just create a perpetual brightness—art that is not tainted by fear.

The people we meet in our lives change us, regardless of how long they stay.

Larisa Polonsky won Best Actress in a Feature Award, lead lady in “Leaving Circadia,” at Long Beach International Film Festival (2014).

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“Leaving Circadia” cast includes: Christian Coulson: Tom Riddle from “Harry Potter”, Joseph R. Gannascoli from “The Sopranos”, Ashley C. Williams from “The Human Centipede”, Larisa Polonsky from “Chicago Fire”, adult actress Stoya, and two time Tony winning actor (and star of Fox’s “Fringe” and Steven Soderbergh’s upcoming series “the Knick) Michael Cerveris.

Photos previously featured found on: Facebook.com/LeavingCircadia

Photo Link:

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Robin Williams: Irreplaceable

Written by Colleen Rowe, Film Syrup Founder/Managing Editor

“It is our hope the focus will not be on Robin’s death, but on the countless moments of joy and laughter he gave to millions.” –Susan Schneider, Wife

I decided to write a tribute to honor the request of Susan Schneider, Robin Williams’ wife, from a fan’s (my) perspective.

Robin Williams was not simply an actor I watched a on a television as child, but a part of my childhood that helped me to laugh, cry, and accept life for what it was: monotonous, confusing, specific, and often, quite beautiful. I have never personally met him and I never expected I would, but he was the type of actor who made fans like me feel like they knew him. A walking enigma, sometimes sporting green tights, I felt like my life was positively altered by his presence on screen. There are many things we realize in retrospect, in a haze before sleep or during a conversation that seems monumental at the time, but this is one thing that I knew while it was happening: Robin Williams was directly responsible for a lot of my happiness at a young age.

He was and remains a man who wears women’s clothes in a conventional setting without questioning whether it is appropriate. This, his character did for his kids. By his family’s reaction to his passing, I can tell that he was the type of man who could and would really help people if he had the chance, on individual and widespread levels. Through my television screen and movie screens, I have only known Robin Williams, but with so much support from his fan base, the celebrity community, the people who knew him personally, he is an irreplaceable human being. I arranged a few public videos I found on the internet (all sources cited via links) to acknowledge my respect for him.

He was the type of guy who you could have a food fight with in the cafeteria, you know, your best friend.

He was the type of husband who would cook for you if you asked, in whatever attire you requested.

He would talk about board games with authority figures like it was no big deal.

He was the type of guy who wouldn’t feel offended if you farted in front of him. He’d make you feel comfortable about the absolutely rude noise you just made:

He was the type of guy who would grant your wishes, as long as they were reasonable:

He was the type of guy who would change your view on the world:

He was the type of guy who reached you on a personal level.

Robin Williams will be missed by his fans, friends, peers, and, most importantly, his family. Without him, my childhood wouldn’t have been the same.

What Does it Mean if You’re “Sorta’ Horny” Anyway?: Review with additional information provided by Filmmaker, Don Cherel

By Colleen Rowe

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Photo from “Stony Brook Film Festival” website: Link

In a world where feigned perfection sells, the characters in Don Cherel’s short film, “Sorta’ Horny” (2013) are buying twenty-two-year-old Sheldon Daffner’s (Adam Silver) time to stare at the protruding horn on the side of his forehead as he waits on the customers at the diner he works for. Generally, it’s difficult not to stare at the particular individuals we see in public with birth defects and physical abnormalities—Cherel portrays this concept with his own amusing spin.

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“Sorta’ Horny” is an initially semi-depressing, comedic visual commentary on the way people react to the societally proclaimed “abnormal.” Innocently portrayed, Sheldon works at this local diner, acting noticeably timid, but friendly enough to fulfill his role as the “head waiter.” Confirmed by Cherel during a Q&A after the film showed at the 19th annual Stony Brook Film Festival (SBFF), the seemingly cheap, lower class diner is an actual building located in Pacioma, Los Angeles, a place he described as a “destination to nowhere,” used solely as a set for production purposes. Cherel explained that many Los Angeles police officers were present on the highway, infamous for questionable activity with its functional motel (rent by the hour) behind the diner set, in Pacioma. One day while shooting, Cherel thanked one of the cops for his consistent presence and he responded, “Odds are I would’ve been here anyway.”

Throughout the workday at Sheldon’s job, we see his various interactions with different customers, some who simply stare at his horn and others who actually ask him about it. The African American couple (Zondra Wilson & Michael MicQuick Davis) he waits on seems most comparable and believable—they were the easiest for the audience to relate to. Although initially noticing the horn, they are more concerned with being served their food and teasing each other. Perhaps we can learn from these characters and the way they slightly ignore Sheldon’s horn for the duration of their meal. Hashtag: not being a judgmental bigot.

Sheldon’s shift at the diner circulates around these embarrassing (for him) conversations and his interest in the new, noticeably attractive hostess, Jessica (Sara Fletcher). Cherel revealed that Sheldon’s horn, made from silicon and foam, was actually created by Tony Gardner, who has done the prosthetics for the Jackass & Farley films, along with “Bad Grandpa.” Through his research, Cherel concluded that it is physically possible to develop a callous of bone (horn).

During his break, Sheldon meets with his overbearing mother (Mary Beth Pape) in his car where she, suspicious of his mysterious behavior, begins to falsely accuse him of taking part in illicit activities. The vehicle where they meet, similar to the car from Joel and Ethan Coen’s infamous “The Big Lebowski,” was specifically chosen for this reason, Cherel, a Coen Brothers fan, told the audience at SBFF. This deliberate technique to present a familiar prop to the audience is subtly clever without risking complete imitation, associating “Sorta’ Horny” with an already popular comedy.

After a difficult interaction with childish young women (one imitates his horn with a straw, holding it with her fingers against her forehead to depict his physical appearance), Jessica, the now blatant heroine, dismisses these foolish valley girls. Sheldon makes an important decision, directly affected by the young hostess’s defensive actions for him, after this negative-turned-positive interaction with Jessica and her former “friends.” What is the secret that Sheldon’s mother suspects he is keeping in this 21 minute short and how does the empathetic Jessica change his previously regretful mind? As this film comes to a questionable end, let us ask ourselves if bullying continues as age strips us of tired immaturity?

As Sheldon finally discards his typically geeky paper bag (used for when he hyperventilates), is he losing that part of himself that helplessly attempts to shield him from social criticism. Why is he “sorta’” and not just completely horny and where does that differentiation separate the phrase? It could be considered a metaphor for atypical human beings and how they’re supposedly part-“normal” beneath the guise of social rejection, the word “sorta’” emphasizing a person who is not fully an outcast, but inherently strange.

Transcending traditional stereotypes, we are entering this age where those who are now criticized heavily by the typically “beautiful” are frequently portrayed as heroes to larger audiences than a backyard gang. What does it mean if you’re “sorta’ horny” anyway? I think we’ve all been there.

Interview with Filmmaker, Bethany Orr, on her new feature film, Campaign titled: “ICELAND OR BUST”

Sometimes, location is everything and in Bethany Orr’s upcoming feature film,  which is untitled, but being supported by the campaign name: ICELAND OR BUST, this might prove to be true. There’s also the addition of her individualistic ideas that paint her words with originality and sass. Bethany Orr, [Agorable, ] tells Film Syrup and its viewers about her new creative Icelandic adventure and the perks those who support her are allowed.

“No one I know could execute such a bizarre idea, never mind think of it. Definitely worth supporting.” -Cinephile Stephen Les

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Project Title:

Campaign is called ICELAND OR BUST.  igg.me/at/icelandorbust

Film Syrup: Why Iceland? What draws you to its culture?

Bethany Orr: I started having visions of Iceland back in 2012 when I was studying with Werner Herzog. I had just completed my short film, Agorable, and was toying with several different story ideas for my first feature and for whatever reason, things became super clear around that time. Specifically, two of the stories I had been working on merged into one and then showed up in Iceland. And now here we are. I’ve learned you have to trust that kind of stuff when it gives itself to you.

Herzog is a fan of Icelandic mythology and was the one who introduced me to The Poetic Edda, a dense, rich volume of primordial poetry from Iceland (it was on the reading list for Rogue Film School), so that was definitely an influence. Now, I’m pretty obsessed. With everything – the Icelandic people, the economy, the history, politics, landscape. But what I have now is an intellectual and intuitive understanding of the place, being there in September will give us the chance to have a real experience with her.

Film Syrup: How did you and Patrick Kennelly start working together?

Bethany Orr: Patrick is a very exciting director. He and I collaborated on his feature film, Excess Flesh, which shot this past spring. I played the lead role. He knew I was a filmmaker as well as a performer, and the work we did together really transcended any experience I’ve ever had on a project before, my own included. We’ve become good friends since and are looking forward to expanding our creative partnership on the Iceland film. Which, by the way, doesn’t have a name yet. We’re working under “Untitled Iceland Feature.” Maybe our supporters will have a say in that down the road!

Film Syrup: You’re traveling to Iceland right now, but you said in your campaign video that shooting won’t start until 2015 or later. What are you attempting to achieve in these separate travels?

Bethany Orr: It’s a larger project than is realistic for us to crowd-fund a full budget for (we’re not Zach Braff and Veronica Mars), so we’re engaging our fan base for the development funds to help us get this thing off the ground. We have a match-funds offer from an angel investor, which is great. $10,000 will be enough to cover this scouting trip as well as the costs involved with engaging the right producer. Luckily Iceland has a pretty incredible Film Commission, and we have a number of contacts there, so we anticipate having a good experience. It’s an ambitious production no matter which way you cut it. We hope we’ll be back sooner rather than later, but there are a lot of unknowns at this point. One thing we can offer our supporters an insight into the film development process, demystifying things in a way—they will be there for the whole ride. That’s exciting to be able to share.

Film Syrup:What is your involvement with Transatlantic Talent Lab and how will it benefit your creative pursuits?

Bethany Orr: Being accepted to the Lab is a major opportunity. It was specifically set up to give highly focused support to a handful of filmmakers from Europe and the US who are making their first feature. This is my first feature, not Patrick’s, but neither of us have shot out of the country before. And since Iceland is our shooting location, it really does feel like the Lab was tailor made for me and where this project is at. I’m very excited.

Film Syrup: Where did you come up with the ideas featured in your very creative campaign?

Bethany Orr: We’re not running the typical crowd-funding campaign. We worked hard to try and distill the message down to it simplest form, but I don’t know. It’s pretty impossible to communicate this stuff inside me, and anyway that’s what the film is for. So we tried to capture the essence of the script as much as possible by using some unusual, even disturbing imagery in the campaign video. It’s weird. I’ve always had a unique take on the world, and Patrick and I share complementary points of view on a lot of things. Our most meaningful work deals with universal struggles—emotional violence, anxiety, depression, guilt, social acceptance, grief—through a kind of fucked up but visually engaging filter. But I believe audiences still truly want and need to be challenged and can take it.

Film Syrup: Tell us and our viewers more about what you’re offering your contributors in exchange for their support on this campaign.

Bethany Orr: We’ve got some pretty crazy rewards – like playfully sinister cross-stitch art, a short film made just for you, a handmade Viking tomahawk, a 3-night stay at a Hawaiian B&B (in case you’re feeling contrary). If you’re particularly well humored, we’re even offering the special opportunity to “Adopt-a-Dong.” I can’t tell you about that one, you’ll have to look it up yourself!

We’ve also got some tamer ones, like script coverage or some beautiful photographs we’ll be bringing home from Iceland. And for anyone who contributes $25 or more, we’ll make you into a superhero…

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Film Syrup: What is the basic premise of the film and who do you believe will be your most interested viewers?

Bethany Orr: The film is a psycho-sexual drama about four strangers who meet in Iceland to discover their lives are interrelated.

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It’s actually a movie about grief, although you may not be able to tell that exactly from our campaign. We decided to take a humorous approach to the presentation, but the subject matter of the film itself is dead serious. The story is filtered through an absurdist lens, but yeah, it’s about human loss… and freedom. I happen to agree with Shakespeare that the veil between comedy and tragedy is very thin, so I exploit that line an awful lot in my work.

The script uses a lot of stark, visceral imagery, things that really haven’t been seen before. I can’t say too much about the particulars of the plot, but it revolves around the central idea that the grieving inhabit a world of alternate logic. The logline is: Mourning is an island with its own set of rules. There’s nowhere else on earth I can imagine doing more justice to this film than Iceland.

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Film Syrup: What does this film mean to you?

Bethany Orr: It’s all of me. I’m very serious about it. I heard an interview with a guy awhile back who had adopted 13 children from foster care. The interviewer asked if he had a favorite. And he said, “Yes. The one I happen to be with at the moment.” I feel that way. On any given day there’s a dozen ideas screaming around in my brain and body. This is the one that’s telling me it’s ready, so it has my full attention.

In fact, I just found the mission statement I wrote to accompany Agorable in application to Rogue Film School. This will give you a good idea of my approach to creating:

In America you are twice as likely to kill yourself than to be murdered. We are– empirically– our own worst enemies, and we treat each other with emotional and physical violence as an extension of our self-loathing. As an actress I’m drawn to desperate, brutally flawed or flayed characters. As a filmmaker, for me it’s life or death every time. Well-humored, naturally. A little blood never hurt anyone.

I’m captivated by the notion that ANYONE is capable of doing ANYTHING (even committing the most heinous of acts), under the right circumstances. Doubt and fear are our great equalizers; none of us is any better or worse than any other because of what we have or have not yet been driven to do…

(Interview conducted by Film Syrup Managing Editor, Colleen Rowe)

“The Heart Machine”: If Your Heart is Mechanical, Will it Still Beat for Human Interaction?

By Colleen Rowe

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“The Heart Machine” was shown at The Brooklyn Academy of Music in June 2014. Photo Credit: Myself (Colleen Rowe)

We have all done it before and occasionally we think about it in a jaded haze of harsh perplexity. The stranger you see on the sidewalk, in the bar, on the subway—it’s really just a stranger, isn’t it? With curious inclination, you might halfway approach your stranger, because this unknown has become yours in the misty sentiments your mind creates above wheels upon rattling tracks. As your hand almost reaches its destination, within the space of skin folds between your stranger’s palm and fingers, you turn away, realizing, suddenly, that the city of New York is a very large place and within the swallowing crowds there isn’t a possibility that you’ve just run into the woman who you believe might be your emotional savior, only to be spit up with a violent cough back onto the pavement. It’s just a stranger, you tell yourself again, and she isn’t yours. In a fleeting moment, someone asks, with a twinge of undocumented mystery: What if she isn’t a stranger? What if she is yours?

Writer and director, Zachary Wigon, has mindfully crafted the independent film, The Heart Machine, portraying the casual conversations between two individuals who have formed a long distance relationship with each other and a mysterious truth about their physical proximities. Between their scheduled skype sessions, the male protagonist turned antagonist, Cody, played by John Gallagher Jr., appears suspicious quickly after the web camera lens shuts off, plotting points on a map of New York City and evaluating the typically American electric outlets beside a picture of his transient beloved. After a run in with his internet girlfriend’s doppelganger on the subway in New York, after knowing that she has been in the process of completing a fellowship in Germany, Cody mentions this sighting to his girlfriend, Virginia, played by Kate Lyn Sheil, only to hear her feigned disinterest as an obvious warning of deception. Perhaps this mystery subway rider was his.

The daily lives and separate interactions within their individual worlds become noticeably depressing as Cody begins to stalk people who might have had an interaction with Virginia, while Virginia partakes in promiscuous, blind sex dates. Together, within their tunnel vision bubbles, initially so large with inventive ideas and a magnetic chemistry, their separateness pops their internet world back to a reality so unremarkable that you start to hate them for their completely irrelevant lives. Here, as the line between real “lives” and internet personas becomes large enough to park a Titanic-sized water tricycle within its domain, viewers realize how simply expectations are built up by portraying oneself incorrectly on a website platform. It is remarkable how thoroughly obsessed people become with everyday internet interactions, to the point where they lose part of who they are. The Heart Machine touches upon this idea, directing it like a ventriloquist’s dummy, to present the realization that we are not really who we are portrayed to be through technology.

Cody, an initially seemingly adorable and caring boyfriend transforms into an undesirable stalker, exhibiting Zachary Wigon’s intentional idea: a normal guy can be depicted as a “creepy” individual once obsessive desires are introduced. His single minded actions to attempt to find his internet girlfriend in her tangle of lies, including following a barista she may or may not have known, manipulating a girl—who Cody had seen Virginia in a picture with on Facebook—to bring him back to her apartment so that he can search through her phone for any clues on Virginia’s whereabouts, and researching the address of Virginia’s apartment, where he proceeds to search through her garbage and finds the wrappers of the “German” chocolates she is often seen eating during their skype sessions, present the idea that everyone on the internet has the potential to be a stalker.

In a sense, we are all stalkers to a certain extent. Zachary Wigon makes this clear as the glass filled with water Virginia first drinks at the dive bar where she meets one of her sexual exploits. This scene, particularly, was captivating—her lips, nervous and trembling as she gulped down the water she uses to hydrate her insecure frame. Virginia’s location, very close to Cody’s New York world—a world in which Virginia is his—and the company she keeps, individuals exiled to  distant, emotional plateaus, shows a different type of need that exists within her character. The need is expressed by Virginia herself during her first real-life, impromptu meeting with Cody as they stand on a roof and she explains her initial desire to find someone, via electronic dating applications, to care about at that moment, rather than someone to have sexual relations with. Her parallel need to disconnect physically with the people she actually cares for shows inability to mix sex with love, a commonality among scorned lovers.

This film is powerful, to the extent where it makes its audiences question whether the people we see every day through social media posts are the professionals and philanthropists they present themselves to be, or if they are simply con-artists with specific motives to clear the richness from their “internet model” competitors. In a world where boxes of chocolates have been compared to life—American imports disguised with a foreign, in The Heart Machine, German, façade, these lifeless things become representations for what is expected: deceit, manipulation, and a little bit of genuine adoration. If lies are told through a webcam, are they more credible because the evidence is difficult to receive? If we say we’re from a certain place, when we’re really from a completely different region, does it mean that we can reinvent ourselves without anyone finding out, so long as the original witnesses are stuffed into photo albums in our attics? Just because a person throws away the chocolate’s wrappers doesn’t mean that they won’t be recycled with advertised imprints of their original makers. It doesn’t mean they won’t be dug out of the trash by a jealous lover gone mad with anger. We’re digging through the internet to find a joint conclusion of what the truth once was, but this mimesis has shaded society with lenses so thick that the original contents of our souls are dabbed with printer’s ink and figurative “likes.”

In the end, Cody implies that his relationship with Virginia is over after his suspicions are confirmed that Virginia has been in New York the whole time they have been dating through Skype. Virginia, thinking about Cody first seeing her on the subway, assuming it was her doppelganger, she writes him a work of prose, shifting the initial outward, physical perception of that scene to an introspective voice—the person has now become the speaker and their whole existence is a memory jotted down in a diary. Here, the instance experienced by one person, is translated by another into something more beautiful than it was meant to be—a filter on a photograph, a manipulation of what once was into what is.

Did Virginia originally deny being a writer because she was more comfortable with being someone’s visual candy on a random train in New York City? The sound of a beating heart isn’t secluded to madmen—it’s that background noise when it’s really quiet and you’re pressed close against the reality of human contact. In the end, the liar becomes the heroine, because the art she depicts is so abstract that it becomes a concrete part of who she is and what the film that contains her has crafted her to be. The art of reality is a difficult concept to present—if you’re not careful, you’ll be depicted to be exactly as you are. You might become yours.