Felt (2014) Review

There are measures of tragedy and loss that underscore the journey taken in director Jason Banker’s Felt, his follow-up to the 2012 film Toad Road. Both films are similar in that respect, having an ever-present sense of darkness even in moments of joy. But where Toad Road starts and ends with the potential supernatural threat and the all-too natural stupidity of youth, Felt is more anchored in human pursuits. That proves to be the more mature approach to the subject, in this case (performance and otherwise) artist Amy (Amy Everson) and the bizarre world she has created for herself.

All that exists in this world we’re shown exists by her hand, good and bad. Her grating affectations, her demeanor and treatment of others, her barriers and her aloof behavior are all created. Now, there is a suggestion that this has all occurred because of past trauma and abuse earlier in her life. Thankfully the film doesn’t spend time on a history lesson and instead allows the viewer to assemble together a narrative that would bring about such a severe result.

Amy not only alienates friends and those around her with all of these behavioral barriers, she quite literally separates herself by way of costumes and appendages and other handmade things around her home and worn on her person. It is defense and it is sad and it is clearly a serious mental projection of fear and trauma. That said, we are watching a film and have to get to know this character and for about a third or so of the film, the task is a tough one. Her ticks and demeanor are frustrating to deal with and very off-putting to the point where you start to question what the point may be.

But as the film unfolds, slowly and with no driving drama necessarily, you are led into a position where you do feel for her. It is not a manipulation and it is certainly not a cheat but there is a switch that gets flipped where grating turns into endearing and you care more for her almost against your will – it is the pain she is trying to cover over with felt outfits and knit genitalia that fights its way past the barriers she labors over so much.

So it is this fragility that works against us, and ultimately against Amy when she meets a man (Kentucker Audley) who appears by all accounts to be good, open. It is his patience and regard for her and general goodwill that makes it seem natural and nice. His soft but direct manner with her strikes a chord and we see her open, ever so slightly, to the prospect of trust and vulnerability with another person in a romantic way.
But we know that her grasp on all of this is tenuous at best and what seems like it could be good will, inevitably rot from within. This is not the man’s fault, really. Now, one part of his behaviour certainly does lend itself to a selfish and awful shallowness that rips at Amy’s world in a dramatic way. Under normal circumstances, a bad relationship turn would rattle most of us but in Amy’s case, every security she has constructed, every small concession she allows those around her (including Audley) becomes nothing more than a liability – something that connects her to the ups and downs of every day folks.

This cannot stand and cannot be swept away and it is because of the deep emotional damage she has tried to hard to bury and mask for so long that she turns to the darkest elements of her being (both real and imagined) to right the ship, as it were. The arresting nature of this act is squiky and unpleasant and, in some strange way cathartic, if not expected. But a bloody twist and a shocking reveal are not this film’s goals and really, it works fine without it. It is unsettling and sad and foul and gross and pitiable without a gimmick.

That said, the transition to empathy with Amy takes patience and commitment on the part of the viewer. You could not have it held against you if you cannot keep your relationship going with her. She is not easy and sure as hell not likeable. It will either connect with you and you’ll give in to taking things with her as they are, or, you won’t. Either way, you can smell the sulphur when it comes to happiness in her life so the breakdown of it all isn’t some grand surprise. What is surprising, though, is the parallel between her suffering and her catharsis – one violent and one internal. Amy’s arc is not a new one, but, it takes the abuse of an innocent woman and makes it about her, not the act or acts. This feels very smart and emotional but not to shout a larger point to the rooftops.

This is not a rape story nor is it a revenge story – it is a breakdown story with emotion and complex coping drama that ends up in a place you can feel in your heart it’ll get to but still feels heavy once you’ve gotten there. It is the weight by which a strong, strong performance is hung on and Amy Everson does everything she can to sell that human tragedy and its bloody apex.