1/1 is a 2018 drama about a twenty-year-old girl trapped in rural Pennsylvania, who grapples with sex, drugs, love and loss.
It’s a little strange maybe to start where I will, but I want to mention Martin Scorsese‘s kinetic 1985 classic After Hours about a man who can’t seem to escape the night, the film a wildly stylistic odyssey that somehow sprang to mind while watching Jeremy Phillips‘ trippy take on a sort of similar theme. 1/1 is heavily-stylized journey that never lets up, and while it’s chaotic, raw, and jagged, it’s also an inventive, absurdly entertaining character study that feels like a much-needed shot in that arm.
Sitting in a doctor’s office, recently turned 20-year-old Lissa (Lindsey Shaw) ponders her lot in life, telling us in scratchy, somewhat bitter narration about living in a small Pennsylvanian town. She’s been here every hour, every minute, every second of her seemingly uninteresting existence, trying to find whatever it means to be alive in the limited friends and gatherings she can sort of be a part of, even if she feels universes away from all of it. She’s sunk deep into parties, sex, drugs, and superficial stimulation, but when something happens that could fundamentally change it all, she is forced to face life on a different path, and seek out demons that haunt her, one born from a tragedy that has tested her like no other.
First and foremost, it’s best to shine a little light on Shaw, who is in nearly every frame of the film, and does terrific work as a young woman headed into the fray. She’s got a burdensome presence about her that makes her emotional shifts, often in silence, that much more impressive. However, it’s surely Phillip’s visually-erratic bag of tricks that are going to be the real takeaway here, the film a kaleidoscopic labyrinth of jerky static imagery, grainy cutaways, soft closeups and aggressive animations along with single-word chapter cards that strike with the most impact. It’s like watching a movie through a vintage View-Master soaked in saturated colors and old sepia-toned stills.
Fortunately, it has great purpose, and while I won’t spoil what’s behind Lissa’s distress, it’s this spastic, troubling collage of imagery that begins to make sense, more so once we delve in the backstory of what so aches in her heart. Enter Robert (Judd Nelson), Lissa’s father, who for the first forty minutes is seen only as a flash in these memory swipes swirling about Lissa’s narrative mind. He’s not a stable man, condemned by his depression but great love for his daughter who, with hollow misery in his voice, assures her that everything will be fine. Of course it won’t be. Not even close.
Judd, though not on screen much, finds some real nuance here in a painful performance that is really some of the best work he’s ever done. He rarely speaks, but wraps himself so thoroughly up in the sorrow of whatever tragedy Robert is dealing with – his legacy clearly having great effect on Lissa – it’s impossible not to be moved. Still, though, we come back to Phillips’ unique storytelling approach, one that relies on specific beats (led by Liars hypnotic techno score) and purposeful tonal shifts to unspool its often dark tale of life in the shadow of misery. This is not your typical sad-sack coming-of-age movie.
1/1 is an unconventional film, tackling a familiar plot for young women in movies but doing so with something special for those willing to let this work its jagged charms as intended. Often repelling (by design) and then ever so inviting, this is a fascinating journey with plenty of rewards well worth exploring on your own.