#jeremygardner

As I continue my march through the multitude of choices provided by Shudder for ShudderWeen, I noticed myself consistently going down the road of exploitation horror cinema, with a major focus on the late 1970s and early 1980s.  I didn’t want to send myself into a rut, so I delayed my viewing of Sugar Hill and decided to search for something else.  It didn’t take long to stumble across After Midnight, a Shudder exclusive I remember them pushing pretty heavily last year.  With loose connections to the makers of The Endless, one of my all-time favorite modern day films, After Midnight felt like the obvious next step, so I settled in for a late night watch.

Horror stories often double as analogies for other topics, and After Midnight continues this tradition by positioning itself as a horror story based on love and attraction versus commitment and understanding.  Hank does seem to have good intentions in the love that he shows for Abby, but from the beginning (where the house is introduced), a feeling of “two against the world” is immediately present, which stands in stark opposition to the vignette-style memories we are shown of their courtship.  For a long while, we are unsure if Hank is creating monsters to avoid the real issue, which is finding a compromise that allows the love between he and Abby to grow.  In this sense, parallels between Hank’s attempts to capture the monster and his attempts to win over Abby (as well as the people who love and care for her) are obvious, but they do not come off as forced.  If anything, this is where the tension in the film is birthed from... Hank’s longing for the potential loss of Abby is the lifeblood of the film’s emotional spine, and in turn, it supports how all of his frustration from this situation is channeled into a new hunt that is presented as him trying to prove a monster’s existence, but subtextually serves as a cry for help and a need to be understood for how he is.

Outside of these paralleled horror and romance narratives (or, more than likely, deeply within them) is an examination of fragile masculinity, chiefly the fear and apprehension that comes with vulnerability in spite of how important it is for understanding your partner.  The symbolism of the monster hunt works extremely well in the way that it is held in comparison to the way that Hank lives in the memory of love rather than embracing his opportunities for love-filled moments that would expand the capacity for love between Abby and himself.  His monster-hunting actions, as previously mentioned, also come off as Hank loudly professing a need to be heard (knowingly or unknowingly), but without the clarity of knowing whether it should come in the form of a listener, a helper or someone to believe him.  Hank is unable to find this clarity, especially alone, as he is too focused on his personal needs and plans to read into or comprehend what Abby wants (or more importantly, needs).  Ultimately, After Midnight really finds its narrative harmonic resonance as a cautionary tale about attempting to keep a woman instead of attempting to love a woman.

From the opening scenes, we are presented with very creative editing that is largely non-linear in terms of chronology while managing to be extremely sound in the way that it presents the film’s emotional chronology.  The cinematography of the film is very kinetic, and surprisingly, the movement has a very playful edge to it, which helps keep viewers locked in and engaged.  Most of the film takes place in Hank’s house, and as a set, it is extremely effective without seemingly needing a lot of extra dressing or production work.  The distinct lighting found in the film expresses so much in terms of tone and emotion with seemingly small amounts of effort, which makes it noticeable without drawing attention away from the romantic core of the film.  In terms of the writing and performances, the film is sincerely and naturally funny despite humor clearly not being the intended goal.  The creature design, while memorable, works best in the early flashes and glimpses we get... some of the luster is lost when we finally get a good look at it, unfortunately, but not to a point that it upends our connection to the film.  There is an interesting mix of eerie score (which further sets the mood) and soundtrack choices that seem to directly inform us on the narrative subtext that hangs in the air.

Jeremy Gardner pours his all into the lead role, embracing the despair that comes with lost love, the stubbornness to change for your lover and the literal thrill of the hunt.  Brea Grant brings a softer energy with her performance, encapsulating the damaged nature of a wooed women forced to choose between love and the remainder of the world, and supercharging it with the energy of a woman on the brink of either pushing her lover towards awareness or disappearing.  Justin Benson brings a smug air of authority to the proceeding, serving not only as the literal law in the small town, but also the protector of his little sister currently trapped by a man incapable of loving her.  Henry Zebrowski makes the most of his humorous performance by injecting his appearances with down home natural humor, easing what would be an otherwise uncomfortably tense movie.  Praise must also be given to Keith Arbuthnot for the physicality displayed in the role of the creature, as well as the supporting cast of Ashley Song, Nicola Masciotra and Taylor Zaudtke.