Felt
Studio: Amplify
Directed by Jason Banker
Jul 07, 2015
Web Exclusive
On the face of pale flesh-colored fabric is a crude rendering of a man: a caricature created by holes, stringy hair that falls in no particular direction, and light scruff created by marker. The rest of the suit is minimalist, consisting only of the body suit and a fake phallus glued to the crotch. It’s a rather unsettling image, but the eyes beneath it explain its morbidity. In Felt, Amy Everson plays a young woman parsing through a trauma she has experienced, as much as considering the men around her, both immediately and in a larger context.
Felt, in its naturalistic, almost vérité presentation, is not for the impatient. As Amy intermittently reveals, though dialogue or through touch or through look, the pain she is contemplating or experiencing, the people around her doubt her, abuse her, question her agency. It appears to be difficult, understandably, for Amy to articulate what she’s experiencing. It feels, then, as if the people around her are impatient, sometimes even repugnant. And maybe because we’re only used to seeing repugnant people presented in a conventionally compelling manner, people you love to hate, for example, that’s why Felt can be frustrating for the impatient.
But there’s certain a purpose to all of this. The alter ego/superhero and the measured conveyance is a manner of manifesting a kind of anxiety about the realities of misogyny and rape culture that are seldom acknowledged by film. And, again, when they are, it’s often in the most palatable of ways. It takes people like Amy Everson, who is hypnotic with her raspy voice and wistful eyes, and director Jason Banker to prod at this subject both unapologetically and with a specific kind of sensitivity.
Today’s cultural climate may slowly becoming more aware of the realities women have to face with regards to misogyny, but with rape continually utilized, often explicitly, as a plot point to supposedly texturize female characters (when the same is not done for male characters, mind you), Felt doesn’t need to show you the actual act, or exploit it, in order to examine the specificity of anxiety and reticence for Amy, and thereby pull back and consider its universality.
The strength of this film is in its lack of judgment against Everson. It’s crucial that the film be empathetic towards her without pandering, sympathetic to her ambivalent nature towards men, and as the film proceeds, it becomes clearer and clearer as to why this attitude is justifiable. There’s an isolating feeling in this film, as Amy, despite interacting with friends, family, and other people, feels dwarfed by the world around her, even oppressed. That suit she wears is emblematic of the aggressive nature of machismo and of rape culture, anonymous but instantly recognizable.
The film’s foreboding atmosphere, which is blended into its docu-fiction aesthetic, pulsates in waves, indicative of Banker’s careful use of an elusive camera and score. But the film starts to emulate Amy’s ambivalence in its finale, which knocks the film slightly off balance. Nonetheless, it’s an adequately haunting film that tests its audience’s patience with understanding—or at the very least empathizing with the danger of—misogyny.
Author rating: 6.5/10
Average reader rating: 10/10
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