ADRIANNE & THE CASTLE
Director Shannon Walsh shares the extraordinary love story between an artist and his larger-than-life wife. SXSW 2024 audiences discover the legacy of Adrianne and Alan St. George. This documentary is a tale of adoration, art, and Adrianne.
Adrianne is a mesmerizing figure. Her vibrant handcrafted wardrobe and elaborate wigs were more than an act. Adrianne embodied creativity and dreams. She was a living, breathing ball of light. 
Herein lies the challenge for Alan and Shannon. How do you do justice to such a love story? Experimental musical interludes, Adrianne’s Doll Room, quirky home movies, and the ever-expanding house that grows like a whimsical version of The Winchester House. The mansion is an explosion of color, lavish draping fabrics, sculptures, and murals, all featuring Adrianne and Alan’s likenesses. It is Versailles meets Grimm’s Fairytales, each room mirroring a slice of her exuberant persona. She was and remains Alan’s muse for all things.
Alan owns a mascot company, providing characters from Smokey The Bear, Disney, and The White House to local high schools. It is how he finances the endless construction. After Adrianne passes, Alan is lost. The film is a creative catharsis. Half tribute and half coping mechanism, ADRIANNE & THE CASTLE is a fascinating meditation on grief and a portrait of exemplary soul mates.
Film Screenings
Director: |
Shannon Walsh |
|---|---|
Producer: |
Ina Fichman |
Screenwriter: |
Shannon Walsh, Laurel Sprengelmeyer |
Cinematographer: |
Pablo Alvarez-Mesa |
Editor: |
Sophie Farkas Bolla |
Production Designer: |
Nalo Soyini Bruce |
Sound Designer: |
Luc Bouchard |
Music: |
Richard Reed Parry |
Principal Cast: |
Alan St George, Nathan McDonald, Shannon Walsh, SLee |
Additional Credits: |
Re-recording Mixer: Gavin Fernandes, Additional Vocal Arrangements and Music by: Raquel Acevedo Klein |
Mort and Michelle’s dynamic feels incredibly forced. The dialogue is a bizarre mix of awkward bad jokes and deeply personal romantic words. It is a baffling mix. The story is a mess, and there are innumerable superfluous scenes. The pace is glacial. At an hour and fifty-six minutes, this could have been eighty minutes at the most. 
The most successful aspect of the film is Eric Roberts‘ soothing narration, but there are too many inconsistencies for the final twist to go down smoothly. This is one of those times where a flashback montage of all the clues would greatly benefit the film.
Various animation styles change from scene to scene, from hand-drawn to greenscreen, live-action to stop motion layer and mesmerize, forcing the audience to sit up and pay attention. QUANTUM COWBOYS‘ narrative timeline loops and shifts to give our protagonists a chance at redemption. Butterfly effects cling to each of them as “Memory” plays the storyteller and provides second chances disguised as a mysterious stone arc. This clever device keeps the audience enthralled, wondering how this might end. 
The cast boasts faces familiar and iconic. Kiowa Gordon and John Way shine alongside David Arquette and Lily Gladstone ( a near-future Oscar winner IMHO). This one-of-a-kind film will undoubtedly delight with its wacky and meta climax. QUANTUM COWBOYS is an ambitious film that, while currently planned as a trilogy, could easily transition to a series at a major studio. Marslett gives audiences a choose-your-own-adventure-style story whose possibilities are endless.
Joëlle Haddad-Champeyroux plays innumerable ancillary characters. It is a fantastic running joke. Thomas Vieljeux gives Thibaut a melancholy and wounded self-esteem that suits the narrative. It also places Claire in an unexpected hero role.
Lizzie Kehoe is hilarious as Claire. She’s the quirky yet emotionally stunted girl who is genuinely charming. Her giddy exuberance is infectious. Kehoe gives it her all as we wade through an increasingly complex coming-of-age story. 
The film’s only fault is perhaps its length. It could use a trim on some of the lingering shots. On the other hand, the story would benefit from being fleshed out and turned into a miniseries. I think the characters earn backstories and an even deeper emotional investment. GOODBYE, PETRUSHKA would make an accessible YA series. Writer-director Nicola Rose covers a lot of ground in an hour and forty minutes. Hidden beneath a classic meets modern fairytale structure lies political commentary, gender dynamics, emotional manipulation, and celebrated individuality. GOODBYE, PETRUSHKA has solid development potential. Rose has a voice, and there is an undoubtedly hungry audience for what she’s serving.
Eva takes over as a Foley artist for her hospitalized sibling Zara. With no knowledge or self-esteem for the task, Eva endures shockingly abusive behavior from every angle; Zara, her boss, and the hospital nurse. When threatened with dismissal from Zara’s position, she becomes obsessed with the assigned commercial clip.
PIAFFE gives audiences a fever dream of imagery and sound. Music is an eclectic Giallo-inspired mix of ominous cello and techno. The color Red features symbolically in lipstick, a telephone, tinsel, roses, and lighting. Simone Bucio is fearless as Eva. Her palpable anxiety and social awkwardness pour off the screen, making her relatable in the most unexpected ways.
Luke Evans plays Nicky with a workhorse attitude that comes off as dismissive and arrogant against Billy Porter’s caregiver grace. This dynamic rings authentic for me as the default parent in my marriage. Porter nails every aspect, from his sing-songy tone of voice with Owen to the hesitancy to speak up for his emotional needs. Seeing myself on screen hit hard. While I’ve not had to go through divorce and custody dynamics, I have had these “come to Jesus” moments with my husband. I’ve been lucky.
Directed by: Steve Buscemi
Shazad Latif, as Kaz, has a quiet confidence that draws you in from the beginning. He possesses something special that makes the audience feel safe around him. Anyone would be lucky to have Kaz as a member of their family. Lily James plays Zoe with ambition, smarts, and girl-next-door sass. This character’s depth, flaws, and strengths equally embraced make the film thoroughly relatable. Dating is complicated, especially now. James embodies the modern-day woman and brings an elegance to Zoe that captures the audience immediately. Latif and James have a chemistry that feels earned.
The End of Sex tells the story of a married couple (Hampshire and Chernick) who are feeling the pressures of parenting and adulthood. After they send their young kids to camp for the first time, they embark on a series of comic sexual adventures to reinvigorate their relationship.
Lily Gao
The script nails the unfiltered complexities of adult relationships, particularly co-parenting and the ebb and flow of physical attraction. It centers on communication and the dangers of giving up on ourselves to mollify our partners. Relationships are rarely 50/50. THE END OF SEX goes there and sometimes falls off the edge in the best way possible. 
The quirky and overtly sexualized visuals on signs throughout the film become an over-the-top running joke. A brief but brilliant cameo from a comedy legend takes the script to another level. It is an unforgettable scene. THE END OF SEX celebrates kink rather than shaming. It permits viewers to explore fantasy while reflecting on intimacy. It’s a beginning of a conversation between partners, new and old, and a hell of a good time.
Luke Bracey plays Jesse, a photographer who returns with PTSD. His anger, bitterness, and assumptions sabotage a return to normalcy. Bracey takes us along on a journey that provokes real questions. 
The script would benefit from more scenes establishing the strength of Emma and Sam’s bond. The humor comes from Sam’s endearing and feisty conversations with his students. These scenes are genuine and hilarious. The film probably needs one or two at the beginning to establish Sam as a fully fleshed-out character, which only happens much later in the plot. Additionally, I would have loved to see Sam pining away for Emma as a kid. These nitpicky issues speak to the editing as a whole. The narrative is tricky as we jump in time. It could use a bit of reworking, in my opinion. I would watch this story as a series. There is so much to dig into.
ONE TRUE LOVES
The cast makes PAINT watchable. Stephen Root and Wendi McLendon-Covey are ensemble highlights. Ciara Renée plays Ambrosia with cool confidence. She is a smart foil for Wilson. Michaela Watkins plays Katherine, Nargle’s producer and ex-lover. Watkins displays a down-to-earth vibe. Her warmth is endearing, and her coping mechanism for rejection is relatable and funny. Owen Wilson brings his iconic vocal stylings to Carl. The character is more complex than at first glance. Underneath the fame is a lack of SF esteem and regret. Wilson does his best to save the script.
The pace perfectly mirrors the setting of a PBS station in Burlington, Vermont. The dry humor will hit or miss with audiences. It plays like a Christopher Guest film without the mockumentary structure. It pokes fun at the art industry in a tangible and blunt way. In the end, PAINT is an unexpected love story. If you can rock with the vibe, good for you. If not, it’s a bit like watching paint dry.
WITH LOVE AND A MAJOR ORGAN
Pure O
Raging Grace (United Kingdom)
Another Body
The plot and narrative are an awkward fit for such an intriguing setting. Troubled young Finn (Hart Denton, toned down from his manic turn on Riverdale) drifts through the town. He’s obviously troubled. His relationship with his parents is strained, and we can tell there’s anger (or worse) bubbling under his quiet exterior. He connects with Eliza, a girl at his school. Eliza is troubled too, in her own quieter way: she lives with her alcoholic mother, the two of them living through a trial separation from her step-father and step-sister. As Finn and Eliza deepen their bond, it quickly becomes clear that he will bring great love or great danger into her life (perhaps both.)
I found much to love about American Cherry, but left confused surrounding its tone and intention. From a genre perspective, it somehow sits right at the intersection of romance and psychological thriller, but that ambiguity was confusing in ways that felt unintentional. Is this trying to be Fear for the zoomer generation? Good Will Hunting with more bite? I felt it needed to commit a little bit more firmly. By seeking such balance, it risks underdelivering on both counts.
You must be logged in to post a comment.