Sundance 2011 Review: SEPTIEN

Review By Clare Halpine

SEPTIEN, the recent film by Actor/Director/Writer Michael Tully explores themes of sexual repression, parental transference and religion. The film alludes to a variety of Freudian themes; both implicitly and explicitly, as witnessed through the lives of three, young, recently reunited brothers living on an old farm in a small community. Having said that, without a psychoanalytic degree in my back pocket, I was left feeling the way I feel after reading the writings of Freud: slightly confused, but largely disconcerted.  Well, the “largely disconcerted” part happened immediately as the opening credits roll across all manner of bloody and otherwise disfigured phallic imagery. (It does not please me to say this, but after this barrage of visual imagery, even the unprecedented amount of plumber’s crack throughout the film will seem palatable.)

The story opens in the quaint mid-western home of the Rawlings brothers. But all is not calm in this home; nor does the initial dialogue make the characters appear very bright. The first few lines of dialogue feel like a bad improv show: lines sound haphazard or just plain unpracticed. For example, when Ezra, the eldest brother and wanna-be-house-mom, welcomes home his long-lost younger brother, Cornelius, his lines are so stilted and mechanical as to be comedic.

The bad improv vibe lingers into the next scene as the brothers reunite for a sit down meal. The oldest brother, Ezra, questions Cornelius as to where he has been. Cornelius stoically responds that Ezra doesn’t need to know. Ezra continues to prod by responding that he does need to know, as Cornelius has been gone for (a whopping!) eighteen years. As a result of these inquiries, Cornelius jumps up from the table and runs off screen, to be shortly followed by the sounds of breaking glass. Cornelius: prodigal son, unpredictable window smasher. End welcome home banquet scene.

While the film is slow to start, once Cornelius leaves his bed and the house, to engage with the world, funny and heart-wrenching moments ensue. Cornelius’ former athletic prowess is re-established as he challenges various strangers to games of one-on-one: wining handily each time. As a result of Amos’ reminiscing about Cornelius’ his high school athletic career, we later learn that there was a tragic reason for Cornelius’ departure from home and community — his coach sexually molested him. However, this is not revealed until the end of the film, and so Cornelius’ silent and unapproachable behavior throughout the majority of the film seems inexplicable, if not unwarranted.

After attempting to cajole details out of Cornelius regarding his High School days, Amos suddenly confesses his desire to be gay. Due to his repressed sexuality, as a result of the early fear of “Faggots” instilled in him by their father, he comments that even though he is an open-minded artist, he just can’t seem to attempt being gay. A confusing admission, it nonetheless provides a necessary glimpse into the early lives of these brothers.

While the synopsis states that Ezra is a freak for “cleanliness” and “Jesus,” the latter remains largely unsubstantiated. On-screen, the character Ezra goes to church once. And, while he does wake up his brothers to tell them he is going to church, and to invite them to join him, the claim that he is a “Jesus freak” feels a little more like a groundless gimmick than an integral part of Ezra’s character. However, in what I would consider to be one of the most disturbing scenes of the film, Ezra, after falling and cutting himself, is face to face with himself in the mirror. Noticing his cut, he rubs the blood from his wound over his lips as a makeshift replacement for lipstick. Now, where is my copy of Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality when I need it?!

However, the most bizarre intrusion into the film comes near the end when, out of nowhere, a man in a leather jacket, wearing a gaudy cross around his neck and another in his ear, looking part cult-leader part charlatan, emerges from a port-o-potty on the side of the road. While one could argue that this is all a post-modern allusion to the humble beginnings of another savior known as Jesus, there is so little within the film to explain the sudden emergence of this savior-character that, instead, it initially feels like a) a joke [with no explicit punch line] and/or b) suggestive of an 80’s music video. (“Desert Love,” by Roger Hodgson, comes to mind.)

Since the role of religion is never wholly developed within the story line, the sudden cure–all closure provided by the cultish crusader, makes the film’s ending feel all the more unresolved for the viewer. Revenge and healing is so swift and sweet that, in the end, it is the viewer who is left saddled with the remnant emotional baggage. While I appreciated the happy ending, the facile resolution left the film in pieces; pieces of stories begun and pieces of human tragedy explored.

Overall Rating: Two Kernels