This film has been called a "slow burn." It certainly is tedious.
A mother takes her dying daughter into the woods, to see their old family home. At least we're told that the daughter is dying. By film's end, I wasn't sure.
I think director Cory Choy would take that as a compliment. It's that sort of film. Nothing is for certain. The film is wide open to interpretation. There's no resolution or closure. The only thing I was certain of was that the mother is insane. But again, that's just my interpretation. Yours might differ.
There's much talk about Emily, the mother's dead daughter, and the dying girl's sister. But by film's end, I wasn't sure if Emily was real, or had ever been real. Maybe she was, maybe not.
Both mother and daughter have visions that might be hallucinations or ghosts. I don't think there's a correct answer, but at least I should care what the answer might be. But I didn't. I was bored and annoyed by the film's ambiguity and "mystery."
Reviewers have said, "This film defies all our expectations!" Well, but I lost interest within a half hour, so I didn't have any expectations. But I kept watching, because of all the positive reviews, which had me hoping that something mystical or mind-boggling would manifest. Perhaps like Twin Peaks. But Esme, My Love is no Twin Peaks.
Choy is in love with her shots. So much so that she has difficulty trimming any fat from her film. We are "treated" to endless shots of lakes, mountains, trees, sunsets, sunrises, closeups of leaves, insects, and eyes. Lots of eye closeups. At film's end, we are treated to additional shots of a freshly dug hole. And of an abandoned green car. To no purpose. Yes, I know the hole is there. I know the car is there. It wasn't necessary to show me these several more times.
I suppose Choy thinks she is "creating atmosphere" or "mood." But it's just dreary padding. Throughout the film, I kept wanting to shout, "Get on with it already. Let's see something happen. What's this all about?"
Running at 105 minutes, Esme, My Love could easily have been trimmed to 85 or 80 minutes, without losing anything. Instead, the pacing would have improved.
The production values are nice. Good acting and cinematography. But without a good story, it's all wasted.
A mother takes her dying daughter into the woods, to see their old family home. At least we're told that the daughter is dying. By film's end, I wasn't sure.
I think director Cory Choy would take that as a compliment. It's that sort of film. Nothing is for certain. The film is wide open to interpretation. There's no resolution or closure. The only thing I was certain of was that the mother is insane. But again, that's just my interpretation. Yours might differ.
There's much talk about Emily, the mother's dead daughter, and the dying girl's sister. But by film's end, I wasn't sure if Emily was real, or had ever been real. Maybe she was, maybe not.
Both mother and daughter have visions that might be hallucinations or ghosts. I don't think there's a correct answer, but at least I should care what the answer might be. But I didn't. I was bored and annoyed by the film's ambiguity and "mystery."
Reviewers have said, "This film defies all our expectations!" Well, but I lost interest within a half hour, so I didn't have any expectations. But I kept watching, because of all the positive reviews, which had me hoping that something mystical or mind-boggling would manifest. Perhaps like Twin Peaks. But Esme, My Love is no Twin Peaks.
Choy is in love with her shots. So much so that she has difficulty trimming any fat from her film. We are "treated" to endless shots of lakes, mountains, trees, sunsets, sunrises, closeups of leaves, insects, and eyes. Lots of eye closeups. At film's end, we are treated to additional shots of a freshly dug hole. And of an abandoned green car. To no purpose. Yes, I know the hole is there. I know the car is there. It wasn't necessary to show me these several more times.
I suppose Choy thinks she is "creating atmosphere" or "mood." But it's just dreary padding. Throughout the film, I kept wanting to shout, "Get on with it already. Let's see something happen. What's this all about?"
Running at 105 minutes, Esme, My Love could easily have been trimmed to 85 or 80 minutes, without losing anything. Instead, the pacing would have improved.
The production values are nice. Good acting and cinematography. But without a good story, it's all wasted.