Review of Live for the Moment

Introduction

The thought strikes me: Is it so long since I was young? (well, no, but humor me) What did we want to do in those halcyon days (circa 1995), when skittles were plentiful and shoelaces yearned to be used as trip-wires? Well, the first thing I remember is to not get autobiographical, which, lets just say, has gone to the s***ter by this point. I remember wanting to scurry around God`s blessed land, looking for foreign lands to purge and congregate in; meeting long-lost soul-siblings and nurturing our mutual earth-bound togetherness before fleeing on a wave of contempt and surreal recrimination. I remember wanting to push boundaries, to stem the tide of mediocrity, to pull down the bridges and build new ones, to wrench the clouds from the sky, to tear down the walls and wrench the foundations asunder, to bring the sheer fabric of the Earth to its knees and stomp on its ashes whilst singing a somewhat derogatory and probably ill-advised ditty. What I don`t remember is not having a sense of humor. What happened to the anarchy, the frayed nerves, the anger and adolescent freshness? Where`s the dogged, restless awakening, the weakness, the catharsis that longed something to purge? Where is the zeal, the spirit, where is the love of life, of film, of something, that should be leaking from every pour?

Anyway…

Troubled GP David Fowler (Noel Fitzpatrick) gets loaded and runs over a young woman in a suburban street, only to discover (curse ye damned fate!) that she is Rachel (Sasha Hermann, in sepia-toned flash-backs) his unrequited beloved and battered wife of bearded bruiser Sean Jackson (Matthew Watkin.) Meanwhile, the doctor`s choice patient, Miles (Nick Tatham) battles Tourette`s, his crises of musical expression, and his trauma over his mentor`s imminent incarceration. The two leads muddle their way to an indistinct communion of rebounded fates. Some singing, violence, and supposed redemption ensues.

For those not in the know, this is the feature film debut of former DVD Reviewer alumnus Richard Booth.

Video

Grungy student days in the cursed clouds of scattered and shattered DV are brought unnervingly into focus in the quivering depth-of-field shivers of `Live For the Moment`. But, despite all odds, the film manages to maintain some visual consistency despite the obvious limitations. DV is still hideous for this kind of talky, domesticated drama, and whilst the camerawork is sometimes quite bafflingly incompetent, the visual component of the film is at least not the worst thing about it.

Audio

Here`s where the real problems start. `Live For the Moment` appears to have been recorded largely live, sans wild tracks and ADR supplements, so it sounds like watching a home movie someone`s stuck together on their iMac, with bits and bobs jarring as shots cut and the sound fields don`t match up. This would be forgivable if we could hear what the f*** was going on, which isn`t always true, as there are a few noticeable scenes where the live recorded dialogue is almost indiscernible beneath various incriminating layers of background noise and "fuzzy navel" onboard camera buzz.

Features

Some filmmaker`s notes explaining the film`s gestation.

Conclusion

I think it`s fitting as a disclaimer, to mention that there`s a certain waft of cynical entrepreneurial synergy behind the making of `Live For The Moment.` The film acting, at least in part, as an advert for the talents of singer/songwriter Tatham; as a bandwagon for compensatory funding on behalf of its production company `Final Cut Films` and (somewhat bizarrely) as a transitional, goal-orientated support vessel for Tourette`s sufferers. I won`t discuss its legitimacy or potency in any of those fields, but as a piece of dramatic story-telling, it reeks of structural undernourishment and systemic poor-planning as a physical production. Its creator, Richard Booth, has filled this project with more guts than creative sense and has created an ambitious folly, something to be viewed with curiosity rather than with the conventional expectations of a mass audience.

The biggest problem here is probably dialogue, a problem compounded by the fact that the characters never seem to shut up. In a way the cringe-making level of the delivery of some of the hoariest lines cleverly distracts from the visibly creaking production values, but the simple fact of the matter is that with a more convincing and subtle set of dialogues, `Live For the Moment` could probably pass as a perfectly acceptable piece of work, despite its technical limitations. But what limitations... it`s perhaps appropriate to mention that `Live For the Moment` was filmed (apparently) without filmmaking frivolities… such as tripods, storyboards and, in distressing moments, common sense (I`m sorry, but what is it with the 15 year old wrapped in a black blazer pretending to be a police officer, is that you Rik?!?) It`s apt to suggest that one`s usual formal expectations should be abandoned in fair of more moderate concerns, but despite my hardest attempts, I can`t seem to engage with any aspect of `Live For the Moment`, or its characters, other than what`s wrong with them.

The actors have plenty of emotional histrionics, but nothing to anchor them to. The leads struggle valiantly, but struggle is the key word, as neither Fitzpatrick nor Tatham manage to create a single moment in the film that rings true on an emotional level. On the other hand, some of the performances are fine: as Sean, Watkin evokes both a queasy empathy and a creepy volatility as a seemingly decent man negotiating a perilous path between anger and love, grief and despair. Nina Reizi adds some maternal layers to her underwritten part and manages to make something of her lines with the fragrant purr of an accent.

Elsewhere, it feels like a bit of a mess: A lot of things are left unexplored, such as Miles` abandonment issues regarding his father (and his non-biological substitute in Dr. Fowler), and his floundering, weirdly Oedipal relationship with his mother. There are a couple of bold stylistic decisions, most notably a lengthy POV shot as Miles endures one of his "funny five minutes", none of which are pulled off without baffled awkwardness on the part of the viewer. On the plus side, whilst David Briggs` original score is floundering in its awfulness, Tatham`s `Picture in My Mind` just about manages to hit the right note at the right time.

More troublingly, as hard as I squint, I simply can`t see how these two (mostly independently structured) plot-lines coalesce thematically. It`s a significant problem that when the storylines both reach their climax, the feeling is one of disconnection rather than thematic hybridity. Miles reaches for the stars, whilst Fowler sinks into a much-deserved grave. An intriguing chance to explore a bipolar high/low dynamic you might think, but the narrative remains stuck in windy, rhetorical speeches and self-actualising cliches and never finds a rhythmic anchor to explore this more subtle of connections. Indeed, the two plots operate, for the most part, with a startling independence, with Fowler`s unconvincing police investigation only occasionally leering into Miles` insipid arena of languorous self-realisation (which can`t help but feel like naked publicity for song-writer/star Tatham.)

However much one wants to be acquiescent to the noble deeds of struggling filmmakers, the naked facts all remain the same, films are, and must be, judged on their merits, and how can anyone who loves film, even a little bit, offer a weighted appraisal to a film, on pure virtue of its known production history, and its creator. A film, learning curve or not, must stand alone. `Live For The Moment` seems perversely grounded in a limbo between film and practice run, between expression and self-indulgence, between what alludes to substance and what it actually captures in its grasp. It is a film that strives hard to puncture the deeper recesses of human emotion, but gives us only the feint grasp of caricature. It is a thoughtful failure, but a failure all the same.