Offseason (2022)

Finally, after a long line of grotesque, sadistic and exploitative trash masquerading as horror I stumbled upon Offseason , directed by Mickey Keating, a near brilliant film. It will be appreciated by those who like atmosphere, suspense and the horror arising from being trapped; but disappoint those who like gore, jump scares, nudity and on camera eviscerations.

"Just try and blend in, everything will be fine."

Keating seems to have gleaned a lot of information about Things I Like and put them all together in one place: films that centre on strong female characters; abandoned places; a pervading sense of doom or punishment for crimes known or unknown; and that mysterious hinterland where the land becomes the sea.  It's also a very Lovecraftian films without actually invoking Lovecraft.

So it has a nodding acquaintance with films like Carpenter;s The Fog (there  is s lot of fog billowing about the empty streets in Off Season); the magnificent Messiah of Evil directed by Huyck and Katz; Christopher Smith's Triangle; Neil Jordan's superb Byzantium; and even (at the other end of the scale) the ridiculous 'erotic' Eurotrash of Harry Kümel's Daughters of Darkness.  There is something about the sea, the sand, the wind and the rain, the bleakness of run down towns when there are no tourists to galvanize a few twitches of life out of the decrepit, decayed locals that gets me.  Also Mr Lovecraft's The Shadow Over Innsmouth (to which Off Season has a few thematic debts) and A Warning To The Curious by M.R. James - both stories that explore similar brackish terrain.

Offseason starts with a venerable, simple trope - the summons.  The main character, Marie Aldrich, receives a letter advising her mother's grave - on a small island, tenuously linked to the mainland by roads and a moveable bridge - has been vandalised.  Queerly, she is told she has to attend to this in person.  Even more queerly, she accepts, dragging her untight boyfriend George along for the ride.

They arrive at the bridge and are warned to turn back; but the letter grants them passage across to the island.  The cemetery is creepy and desolate; the couple are soon separated and Marie is menaced by mysterious figures in the trees with glowing white eyes.  A distant figure on the beach seems to beckon her on ..

Surely following this mysterious distant figure will not lead to anything bad?

Then she finds the stolid, safe George and they decide to regroup to The Sand Trap, quite the strangest restaurant ever, where the locals really do that thing where everyone stops and stares as the newcomers venture in.

See, they aren't meant to be there.  It's off season.  Whatever goes on in the town is for the benefit of the locals only.  Infuriated - and squabbling with each other - Marie and George try to escape the isle, but the roads seem to twist to dead ends, eventually causing a crash leaving Marie staggering through the bleak and deserted streets and George ... well, George is just gone.

This is where the film is at its strongest - an strange combination of Mulholland Drive, The Blair Witch Project and Waiting For Godot.  Marie stumbles from one strange, creepy location to another - an empty, dark museum full of mannequins and suggestive shadows, an unsettling flower shop ... and back to the Sand Trap for a bravura demonstration of cinematic élan.  It's superbly done, Keating conjuring menace out of shadows, fog and the continual rolling thunder of a seemingly never ending storm that grips the island, and the even more terrifying diegetic noises of humanity gone awry - alarms, mysterious voices, crashes and bangs.

Lone Palm Beach is VERY quiet in the off season

Offseason is technically accomplished - superb framing, cinematography, staging, camera movement, editing and sound design are all adroitly controlled.  Framing and focus are used with unusual disregard for conventional wisdom - Keating will happily keep his subject blurred out of focus, or allow the frame to settle for a few seconds longer than usual before the subject appears in shot or after they leave; but it is done so consistently and effectively it is clearly a deliberate formal ploy, and it works very well to unsettle us.  Everything is dreamlike and incomprehensible, like we have become unwittingly immersed underwater.  And several sequences - particularly the museum scene - show superb choreography, with the camera moving with sinister intent in long, nightmare infused take.

Nothing bad could happen in a museum full of creepy mannequins, disembodied heads and freaky noises.

Beyond this the whole thing rests on an astonishing performance from Jocelin Donahue, who basically is the entire film.  Her face is near impassive through out, yet somehow hints at oceans of emotion seething just beneath.

My only criticism is that after 80 minutes of superb build up it is pretty much wrapped up with a shrug from the director, as if he couldn't fathom a better resolution.  There seemed a thousand possible avenues to explore, so many different ways the finale could have been done ... and Keating opts for the most straightforward and least interesting and in doing so robs Marie of her whole purpose as a character - having brought her to this point on (naturally, inevitably) the cold beach in the dark with the waves and wind roaring about her, it needed something more than the instant noodles resolution we're offered.  Everyone deserved a bit more than this, whether it is the brutality of The Wicker Man, the looping unending Hell of Triangle or the gradual acceptance of corruption of The Shadow Over Innsmouth.

Still, the journey to this unsatisfying ending is worth taking.

Star Rating: ***