This is an indie film named after an indie rock song and a slick synth soundtrack by LA band, Drinking Flowers. Is it a hipster movie? The cast is a completely mixed bag of mid-twenties to mid-thirty-somethings, the most magnetic being a traumatized African American Afghanistan veteran who has a cat named Chi Chi. There was a gentle nod to The Breakfast Club in round-robin conversation scene. This was the first time in a while I felt like I wasn't being mind-molested by Vice Media or burping up the remnants of Netflix "Content."
DL is so dense with innuendo, humor and subtext that it's expertly and seamlessly zipped into a view that is at once unnerving and captivating. Passes the Bechdel Test in first 30 seconds; added bonus. The premise is so subtly imbued into the story that I wasn't exactly sure what was going on until the last scene. The dialogue, half internalized because the characters are MEDITATING, was actually handled super well. The leads are mesmerizing in their unfolding personality traits. The comic relief provided by the supporting cast is natural and nonchalant, while at other times their personalities are endearing, annoying or repulsive.
What really shook me about Desire Lines is even though it is fiction, an independent with no-name actors and borrowed set locations, after I watched the film I had the feeling that I had been IN that life. Or that I had been part of the film. I believe this is due to the cameraman's (all handheld) handiwork and the editor. And the script. And the acting. Why do movies absorb like this? Also, I was fascinated watching a bold POC woman challenge a blue eyed guru, and see this friction through. Won't be surprised if this becomes the #MeToo sleeper hit of the year.
