directed by Evan Glodell
Evan Glodell’s filmic debut is a scorcher, a bruiser and an ass kicker all rolled into one and exploded onto the screen like a wreckish poem. I will not get into too much plot tedium, but the film revolves around a love story between a boy and girl, and the violent, flamethrowery anticipation of an apocalypse. Glodell’s film evokes a feeling, an elemental urge more than anything, and his custom camera called the Coatwolf Model II (check out this Frankenstein) manages to deliver something visually new to the tradition of indie film. Those who will say things like “this falls outside the margins of what we call independent film” seem to have amnesia about what independent film actually means. This is the intensity, the confusion and the fury of Easy Rider, Two-Lane Blacktop and Mad Max, revised, updated and rebuilt by a frustrated Gen Y lost boy. And like the latter, Glodell’s most obvious and referenced filmic influence, Bellflower growls with a darkness that won’t succumb to mere infidelity or violence. Those elements exist, but Glodell succeeds in refusing to name the rage or the fear, refusing to pin it to something like less competent filmmakers. Bellflower is like the filmic equivalent of listening to Titus Andronicus, a glimpse of the hearts of young men my age. The film does get out of control at times, but the scales are tipped massively in favor of Glodell and his amazing director of photography, Joel Hodge. Hodge is a madman, and the result is a film that takes your breath away with beauty and, if all else fails, a punch in the gut. And the soundtrack slash score is just incredible… Brafuckingvo, Jonathin Keevil and Kevin MacLeod! See this film, and see it on the big screen. It is a true blue, bonafide film in every sense of the word, a breath of fresh air and a choke hold all at once.