Always Shine

Always Shine

Sophia Takal’s interest lies in the powerful undercurrents that swirl below friendships between women; she wants to know what hides beneath so-called safe spaces, and how close female friendship threatens any status quo (in “Green,” which is a sort of unofficial sequel to “Always Shine” in terms of Takal’s exploration of these ideas, too).

I have never been more unnerved by a film than I was while watching these two this may be because the menace always seems as if it could rise up out of the ground or out from inside one of the characters’ heads; pathetic fallacy is at its most pervasive and suffocating here. Lawrence Michael Levine (who also appears in both “Green” and “Always Shine”) has written himself explicitly into horror with his latest screenplay, but the true engine behind each movie is still, as it was in “Green,” the relationship between two women.

Twenty-something actresses Beth (Caitlin FitzGerald) and Anna (Mackenzie Davis) drive up to Big Sur for a weekend at Anna’s aunt’s house. Beth’s career has taken off she gets paid to be lithe and naked on camera in horror movies and laughed at by audiences. Anna seethes with envy: She has more ambition than her friend does; she can act circles around her (they agree on that). But Beth’s voice is higher pitched and throatier, soft with agreement; she tilts her head like a doll when people look at her. There are many shots from behind them as they walk side by side, blonde hair draped down their backs, thin shoulders filling their cardigans: Sometimes you can’t tell who is who before they turn around. This only hurts Anna more they’re similar types. Why not her? Especially when she wants it more?

This movie is about acting, as its trompe l’oeil opening sequence makes clear. It appears to be two auditions, with the actresses reciting lines into the camera as male voices off-screen speak to them. But the scenes mislead before they double back to explain everything and that explanation is delayed enough for it to feel especially good when it finally arrives.

Nothing is what it seems; that’s showbiz, first of all, and these girls have spent their lives in service of illusion. On the other hand: Yes, things are exactly what they seem, and yet our brains fight against this truth like it’s plain as day; we see mirages where none exist. “Always Shine” is a persona-swap movie influenced by “Persona” and “Mulholland Drive,” among others about actresses who find themselves dangerously lost in one another, boundaries erased; identity is meaningless in theater anyway because you’re supposed to disappear yourself there.

Right away, they’re tense. Beth and Anna take hikes, go to the bar for a drink, sit on the deck. The energy is jagged and unpredictable. Unstable seems like an understatement for Anna. And it’s easy to see why Beth would feel intimidated by her. Anna takes Beth’s success as a personal affront not just that, but that she doesn’t share good news (she’s in the “Young Hollywood” issue of a magazine, she’s been offered the lead in a new movie, it’s a step up) is seen as treachery by Anna. Then there’s Anna’s rage that Beth would dare complain about anything; immediately after this outburst is when we realize we will never hear another word from Beth.

But here’s the thing: As much as I’d like to blame everything on Anna, who certainly operates in a miasma of plausible deniability even I have to admit that isn’t true.

Beth sabotages subtly throughout their weekend together (which only becomes clear once you’ve had more than one viewing). In one particularly painful scene, she co-opts the attention of a guy Anna seems interested in though you wouldn’t be able to clock it until later. So no: Anna isn’t entirely wrong about Beth.

It is such an exact observation about what can happen between actresses when one starts pulling ahead. Oscar Wilde said it best in his essay The Soul of Man Under Socialism: “Anyone can sympathies with the sufferings of a friend, but it requires a very fine nature it requires, in fact, the nature of a true Individualist to sympathies with a friend’s success.”

The Big Sur landscape looks positively mystical thanks to cinematographer Mark Schwartzbard; at times it feels less like waves crashing against rocks and more like waves crashing against emotions. Fog rolls thickly over trees that stand like sentinels. There are some particular choices that work beautifully, like the camera following Beth as she paces on the deck in an increasingly frenzied manner.

And there’s one great shot where the two women turn into three: Anna, alone onscreen, back to the camera, staring into a mirror. In this mirror is a reflection of her face, and also a reflection of Beth’s face (Beth’s off-camera at this point but still present in the background). Editor Zach Clark (whose directorial effort “Little Sister” was among my fall pleasures) intercuts the action with brief glimpses of violence so brief you can’t tell what’s happening: figures, darkness, movement; screams that are cut off. “Always Shine” is not a mumblecore kitchen sink reality film. It’s highly stylized. Some of these stylistic choices work better than others. The horror tropes feel familiar, bordering on cliché. What’s truly terrifying us is how much they hate each other.

But we wouldn’t believe it without these two actresses. What Mackenzie Davis does here should be illegal. This woman will be a star after people see this movie I don’t know which people exactly; I’m banking on all of them? But they’re going to love her because she’s angry in this movie and it reads across every single inch of her face: sharp anger around her eyes, wounded hurt pulling down at her mouth, baffled confusion wrinkling up between her eyebrows (which are already pretty expressive when she isn’t doing anything). This is a woman who needs more space to maneuver she needs to live in a world that lets her be; lets her be as loud and passionate and emotional as she is wired to be it is devastating that nobody wants it (not men, not casting directors, not Beth); but here we are anyway.

Caitlin FitzGerald plays submissiveness so well. I’ve never seen it portrayed onscreen so accurately: as a habit; as learned behavior. But when the anger starts to bubble up in her when she finally, finally has had enough of being Anna’s punching bag you realize that maybe Anna has underestimated her friend all along.

In this reality, peering at your best friend is similar to looking in the mirror of distortion which throws you back to yourself. This distortion has nothing to do with competing for men or acting jobs; it is about power. Nowadays, even mentioning female power in Twitter can earn you death threats so it’s safe to say there’s some resistance against this idea as a whole.

For Takal, these emotions and resistances are like swimming through sound waves at supersonic speed. What’s wrong with both women being powerful? Or should only one rise up because we can’t afford having two all-powerful women wreak havoc like a Robert Crumb comic on LSD? What if both ladies inhabited an environment where feminine authority was taken for granted? How would that look? And most importantly why does it scare the hell outta people?

“Always Shine” is a full-immersion nightmare filled with merging, over-identification and projection. I wanted more strangeness (there are lots of strange movies), but this will have to do: the true horror here is emotional. These women feel pressured to become one yet want nothing more than obliterating any semblance of union forever.”

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