They may be a dying breed, but filmmakers like Christopher Nolan, Quentin Tarantino, and Sean Baker remain steadfast in their commitment to shooting all of their projects on film, rejecting the convenience and cost-effectiveness that digital cameras offer in favor of the lush, more naturally-textured images that celluloid has to offer. There are plenty of aesthetic arguments to be had in regards to the merits of either format, but arguably more compelling than crafting the prettier image is actively pursuing a rougher, grittier one, finding the unexpected beauty in deliberate ugliness. Enter writer-directors Deanna Milligan and Ramsey Fendall, who make their feature-length debut with Lucid, expanding upon their 2021 short of the same name. Shot largely on 16mm and centering around a protagonist struggling to express herself through her art, Lucid has a lot of audiovisual style going for it, and there’s a punk ethos to the work that’s immensely appealing, but Milligan and Fendall’s storytelling instincts leave a lot to be desired, resulting in a project that only feels half-inspired and half-unendurable, leaving one with a film that is both underbaked and also a good 20 minutes too long.
Lucid follows Mia (Caitlin Taylor, reprising her role from the short), a struggling art student hoping to pass her final exam with a self-portrait that is capable of demonstrating who she is as an individual. After turning in some lackluster work, Mia is stuck in a rut, juggling her creative life with her depressing day job as a fry cook at a fast food chain. Catching wind of some perception-altering enhancements, Mia turns to a psychedelic drug in the form of a Lucid sweetheart candy, nibbling at the sweet treat to unlock her mind and find the inspiration she so desperately needs. Trouble is, in doing so Mia enters a realm of nightmares, losing her grip on reality as grotesqueries infect her everyday life, including haunted memories of her mother.
The world is still reeling from the loss of David Lynch, but filmmakers are still trying to fill that void of abstraction left behind by the master director, and Lucid is no different. Beds become portals to new dimensions, co-workers suddenly turn into revolting pig-monsters, and Mia is caught in the middle, trying to make sense of this newfangled world while her deadline approaches. In this way, Lucid bears all the makings of a midnight classic, but the film is ultimately too aimless in Milligan and Fendall’s hands, making Mia’s journey all the more maddening, leading to a conclusion with Mia’s mother that offers too easy an exit for her troubled past (hint: trauma derived from violence). Again, it can’t be overstated how remarkable the film’s design is, feeling every bit as DIY as Mia’s art projects — even if that’s for better and for worse. So while Lucid does not always connect as intended, it does offer plenty of great hallucinatory images and soundtrack cuts. (And it doesn’t hurt that Taylor makes for an immensely alluring lead, bravely traversing every path her directors lay before her with wide-eyed abandon.) Viewer mileage is sure to vary, but for those who can submit themselves fully to this creation, it’s undeniable that they will find themselves on one hell of a trip. Whether that trip is good or bad will be a far more subjective determination.
DIRECTOR: Ramsey Fendall & Deanna Milligan; CAST: Caitin Acken Taylor, Georgia Acken, Jo Barnes, Bobby Cleveland; DISTRIBUTOR: Dark Star Pictures; IN THEATERS: May 29; RUNTIME: 1 hr. 48 min.
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