Written by Nicole Snyder, Richard Shepard, and Eric C. Charmelo
Directed by Richard Shepard
No spoilers to be found here. But with that being said, watch the film before you read this. Yep, it's like that.
The forces of critique are a fragile line between necessary and utterly hazardous. Criticism has positioned me in an infinite realm of quiet madness. Is what I'm hearing accurate? A legitmate note for improvement? Simply a unintentionally (or intentionally) hurtful opinion? Hateration? I'm guessing no one is immune from the process of processing how to reach a level of mastery. The hazing so to speak, in its many forms, both psychological and physical, has some sort of sublime endgame. Sometimes in very unpredictable ways. Completely shattering the limits of the horrific, The Perfection invites an immersion of these concepts without ever losing its composure and intent.
The most thrilling aspect of talking about this film before really talking about this film is the imperative to sell an audience on why they should give it their attention to it without saying much of anything. The attempt here is to take on that challenge. I want to articulately dodge the revelatory minefields by boosting The Perfection's savory brilliance on every emotional and intellectual level imagined. Possibly hyperbole, yet I want to promise this will be one of the best film viewing experiences you'll ever have.
Charlotte (Allison Williams in a role that makes her serpent movements in Get Out look angelic), presents a very calm intensity to her state of mind. She's developed a purposeful appearance to conceal her resolve. The once cello wunderkind on the horizon of international prominence was and is repositioned by her equal Lizzie (Dear White People's Logan Browning is a sultry force here) when they were just young teenagers. Proceeding the somber events of the opening, Charlotte sets her sights on reuniting with her cello mentor Anton (Steven Weber) while simulataneously zeroing in on Lizzie. These two meetings propel into a story of actions, words, and remembrance that I dare not divulge with even a descriptor.
Inside of The Perfection's most jarring scenes, director Richard Shephard and his team make stylistic choices with sight and sound that are drowning in terror and dark catharsis. Subtle but clever are the ways in which power is both imposed, exchanged, and taken in how certain characters are positioned at differing points in the plot. What they say or do is secondary to the visceral movements the film successfully invokes. As a whole, The Perfection is a collection of the slices of our human existence; its rallying concerns as well as restorative fantasties, yet executes them in such a way that is wildly transformative because it satisfies the cry for pure originality.
The Perfection is about losing a part of yourself to gain back something even greater. It's a map about how our most frightening experiences and the most ugly processes to escape and crawl out of their destructive path, comes to be the most painful yet most beautiful way to truly be free. The Perfection will destroy any personal gratification you may get from foresight. It is complexly, an emotionally draining, exhilirating, and liberating quest.