Receive The Signal

Having been exposed to the Atlanta independent film community for the past couple of years, I have developed a certain expectation for the projects made and shown here. I've heard of the post-production facilities and the special effects guys; I've met a handful of the talent and seen a few others across a room; I've listened to the filmmakers on panels or in interview; I've watched the casts and crews parade their wares through festivals, 48-hour competitions, and screenings. So-good or bad-there is a bit of a familiar feel to Atlanta films. At worst, I know what I'm buying at the box office window.

And so it went as I settled in to watch "The Signal." I'd heard the stories over these past few months about the turbulence the film has encountered on that journey from purchase to theatrical release that was supposed to be a meteoric rise to stardom. It certainly hasn't been as easy as first thought. But clinging to the promise made by the impressive trailer I had seen in October 2006 at Image's Halloween screening, I was guardedly optimistic.

As the lights dimmed and I tossed a wisecrack at Rob's shoes, I tried to stifle the little flutter of anticipation, the burgeoning hope deep in my belly that I wouldn't leave the theater angry at filmmakers' shortsightedness and lack of skill once again. Tired of how we have come to accept mediocrity from homegrown products onscreen, making excuses like lack of budget, time, or location as if they were a salve for the horrible wound these bad films cause, I was all set for the big screen experience, the theater complete with the ubiquitous old lady talking to no one in particular down at Kely's end of the row and the guy opening mankind's noisiest candy wrappers down in front. And...action!

Then something puked a movie opening onto the screen! Choppy, harsh edits, glitches, entering in medias res, bad bad bad bad bad. But only until the title sequence ended. Then, as the camera introduced us into Ben's (well-played by Justin Welborn) bedroom, I blushed. Not because his pale, naked backside was making its way toward the television set onscreen, but because I realized I had fallen for the filmmakers' little trick. 'This,' I thought to myself, 'is going to be good.'

And it was! Equally funny, horrific, sensitive, and serious, "The Signal" is really good-and I don't just mean judging it by Atlanta film standards. It is really one of those movies that blows the curve for the rest of independent film, as well as causing a paradigm shift for this writer/critic.

I will admit I was skeptical about the triptych approach the filmmakers used, fearing that it would make the movie feel disjointed. But the change of perspective with overlap was well done, quietly and perhaps unintentionally speaking to the assumptions we draw based on limited perceptions of a moment. However, this wouldn't have worked if the leading men, played by Welborn, AJ Bowen, and Scott Poythress, hadn't given really strong performances, along with a truly bang-up job by Sahr Ngaujah. The energy and urgency of the male characters is balanced in what almost felt like a gender reversal by the steady, believable Mya that actress Anessa Ramsey gives us.

The character Ben wins the audience's loyalty in his first onscreen moments when he laundry lists all of the possibilities for the next day if Mya would only choose to stay. He seems open, creative, giving, and real. Because of the good guy, likeable thing he has going on, you kind of underestimate his strength until he faces off with Lewis (Bowen) at terminal 13. Next comes Rod (Sahr). From background player in Mya and Lewis' apartment to scene-stealer in that maintenance locker in the hallway to severed head in a vise. Wow, he's good! And Lewis...you can't hate this guy. Sure, he comes off as a controlling, small-minded man afflicted with occasional psychotic breaks with reality, but his lucid moments give him a depth that keeps him from being that one-dimensional guy you want to see die in a most gruesome way. Though, I did laugh out loud when he got his arm screwed to the door. Brilliant! Clark (Poythress) fills in the gaps with a dorky, self-effacing genius living as a landlord, finding the strength to pull Ben back from the edge at the critical moment. Not quite the idiot savant, but a solid utility player fitting into all three pieces.

Further, the construction and "building" pace of the film allow us to fall into the possibility of the signal's existence and power over the mind. Even more so as the idea is amplified by the exterior shots that do a good job of turning our city into any city, despite the oh-so-wickedly-clever naming of the city Terminus (Atlanta's original name until about 1842), giving credence to Ben's judgment that we let this happen to ourselves and his encouragement to listen to the "real world" beyond the noise in our heads. And it accomplishes all of this while delivering a thought-provoking idea into our heads without ever coming across as "preachy." That is indeed a rare and commendable quality of which the directors, David Bruckner, Jacob Gentry, and Dan Bush, should be immensely proud.

Were there problems with "The Signal"? Sure. A few of the clumsily written lines made me shake my head, but those moments were easily passed over by the well-written comedy interlaced throughout. And the strength of the other actors made up for Cheri Christian's less than stellar performance as Anna. But as a film watcher, not a filmmaker, I am often unsure as to who receives the credit or the blame when things go wrong. Some of Rod's lines were delivered well but still came across poorly. Who is at fault for that? The writer, the director, the editor, or the actor? The car wreck in Transmission I was handled so well. Again, who is responsible for that?

Each Transmission within "The Signal" has a different perspective, a different mood, even a different look within a comprehensive whole, each of the three directors having success making this work. This is where I begin to see the differences in style that may help me to understand how to address the director(s) in the future. Overall, each piece stands different from the other two but work together very well. A few annoying continuity things notwithstanding (the strap of Mya's bra, the make-up on the right side of Ben's head, Anna's pearls), it was tremendously well done. Atlanta filmmakers, and all other independent filmmakers for that matter, should definitely consider "The Signal" to be a wake-up call, as your audiences have witnessed the raising of the bar. We won't be prepared to accept substandard quality any longer in light of what Bruckner, Gentry, and Bush have done here.