The Man in the Suit
Joshua has to face up to this ego, loneliness and loss as he finds his way out of an empty unfamiliar world.
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Producer/s : Joseph Archer,
Director/s : J.P. Gifford,
Writer/s : J.P. Gifford,
Actor/s : Harry Duff-Walker, Maya Moes
This sets us up as if we’re in a thriller, but then Joshua is in the rosy glow of his bedroom, with his wife. Is this a dream? A memory? Or is it the beach that’s the memory, or nightmare? Things get more mysterious when back on the beach a ninja-type figure approaches him. When was this?
We might be in a Sci-Fi, because it emerges that there’s been some kind of apocalypse and Joshua might not even be alive after all. “I own this fucking planet,” he adds. In truth, he owns sod all.
If it wasn’t already apparent, the point is not the story, still less the genre. It’s a fruitless task trying to work either out. The point is Joshua’s reaction to his fears about his status, about his wife’s trustworthiness, about the the fate of the planet. And about his responsibility for what happened, in his marriage and in the world.
This is an essentially simple film, simply shot and well acted. It is obscure, and the aching emptiness demands to be explored. It’s like a cave too deep for light to reach into, and all we can do is grope at the rough walls. Maybe there are cave paintings here, but no-one has a torch.
There no spoon-feeding. The dialogue is not only allusive, it’s also indistinct, which presents another barrier to seeing the director and writer’s purpose. It doesn’t give answers; it doesn’t even spell out its cold questions.
No screener available