If the new indie neo-noir Gazer feels familiar, riffing on any number of classic thrillers as well as newer models like Memento and Too Late, it’s also a testament to how far you can get with a compelling lead. Those honors here go to the singular Ariella Mastroianni; she plays Frankie, a young single mother who is afflicted with a rare, degenerative disease called dyschronometria — also known as lost-time disease — which affects her ability to accurately comprehend the passing of time. As the film begins, Frankie is lost in thought at her gas station job, gazing upon pedestrians and inhabitants of the apartment complex across the street. She imagines narratives for them, including (in a nod to Rear Window) a woman who appears to be getting abused by a man. Frankie also listens to cassette tapes of her own voice on which she has recorded messages and instructions to herself. Ostensibly meant to help her gauge the duration of her commute to work, or keep her focused on various daily tasks, they become a homage to the familiar hard-boiled narration of the genre. They also seem relatively ineffective, and Frankie is soon fired by a sympathetic but fed-up boss. 

From here, the film takes its time introducing us more fully to Frankie’s life; brief interstitial scenes — flashbacks? visions? — suggest a traumatic event in her past, while her combative mother-in-law has custody of Frankie’s young daughter. Director Ryan J. Sloan, making his feature debut, co-wrote the film with Mastroianni (they are partners in real life), and they parcel out information in dribs and drabs that mirror Frankie’s own fractured psyche. She is, fundamentally, her own unreliable narrator. But the filmmakers don’t play too coy; we learn in short time that Frankie’s husband committed suicide, but due to her condition both the police and the mother-in-law refuse to fully believe her version of events. Meanwhile, Frankie tries to find work, saves money to regain custody of her daughter, and attends a support group for suicide loss survivors. It’s here that Frankie meets Claire (Renee Gagner). The two have a conversation, and Frankie recognizes her as the woman who was being abused in the apartments. They seem sympathetic to each other’s plight, and it’s after their second meeting that Claire offers Frankie a job that seems too good to be true — Claire is trying to escape her controlling brother, and if Frankie can just retrieve Claire’s car from their apartment complex, Claire can make a clean getaway. For her trouble, Frankie will receive $3,000. It seems simple enough, but these things never are. Indeed, once Frankie has stolen the car, Claire doesn’t arrive at their designated meeting spot. The plot thickens, as they say, when police come knocking on Frankie’s door — Claire is missing, Frankie was the last person seen with her, and Frankie’s fingerprints are all over the now-abandoned car. Complicating matters is Frankie’s disorder, as she can’t piece together what happened when or in what order between her meeting with Claire and Claire’s disappearance. Knowing about the abusive brother, Frankie decides to play detective, partially out of genuine concern, but also because she’s desperate for the money that was promised her. 

To divulge more of the plot would be a disservice, but suffice to say that things are much more complicated than they initially appear, and Claire might not actually be who she has claimed to be. It’s a web of deceit made all the more confounding by Frankie’s disorder and increasing police scrutiny. The plot machinations are parceled out with purpose, but the real pleasures here are the lovely 16mm cinematography by Matheus Bastos and Mastroianni‘s livewire performance. With her gaunt features and angular physique, Mastroianni seems to have the rare ability to disappear into her surroundings or command the screen, depending on the needs of a scene. She has a quiet, steely resolve, but also a kind of perpetual nervousness. It’s an astounding embodiment of someone who feels out of place in their own life, an outsider to her own psyche. Her presence papers over some flaws; a dream sequence midway through the film allows Sloan to indulge in abstract imagery, including specific nods to Cronenberg’s Videodrome and EXistenZ, but feels functionally out of place within the realistic citywide milieu. Ultimately, the filmmakers must choose between narrative clarity surrounding the mystery plot or fully engaging with impressionistic editing that fully mirrors Frankie’s affliction. It makes sense that they would choose the former, although one wishes they took a chance on the more abstract option. Still, it’s a compelling film and an excellent low-budget calling card, one that announces two exciting new talents in Sloan and Mastroianni.


Published as part of New/Next Film Fest 2024.

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