Blackshear is all about creating a claustrophobic mood by way of sight and sound-his ability to turn a scene from generic conversation to cruel manipulation in an instant (on a shoe-string budget) is unparalleled. The sequence putting Wilson and Daphne back on the street to hunt out her killer has some nice dread, a brief reprieve, and a sinister surprise by way of a raspy whisper and close-up mouth.
MacLeod Andrews enters in a supporting role as a local detective, and the occult becomes much more involved whether a result of necessity or comfort. If I wouldn’t have minded the latter, the former proves far better.Īt the risk of giving too much away, the payoff to Wilson’s training is a take-no-prisoners battle en route to an inevitable truth of what’s occurring. It provides room to either engage with this blossoming revenge plot’s darkness or the sentimental route-picking Wilson, helping him onwards and upwards towards the life people in his background generally never see. Sensitive Wilson finding the person he believes killed his sister only to get beat-up to the point of yanking his own tooth from his jaw? Strong Daphne returning from the grave to guide her brother on a path of muscle- and confidence-building to prepare him for the next encounter? The ensuing montage is akin to a sports film with plenty of eggs drunk raw. I won’t lie and say it doesn’t initially come across as silly. It’s one thing to believe his claims of seeing a murderer it’s another to accept her presence as a ghost. Because while the owner of those eyes serves as the main question looming above the proceedings, there’s also the issue of whether we can trust Wilson’s state of mind once Daphne is found dead of an overdose. We don’t need over-the-top gore or creature effects when scrawled writing on the wall, shaky camera chases, and extra-loud foley can create the anxious, uncertain mood necessary for a story about the unknown that toes the line between fact and fiction. When I Consume You, much like Blackshear’s debut feature They Look Like People, does a wonderful job saying so much with so little. Add our introduction to these characters being at opposite ends of a bathroom door while she pulls a tooth from her bloodied and bruised face and the danger seems real. With that is a tattoo on Daphne’s wrist that could very well be an ancient symbol alluding to evil as either a means of acknowledgement or protection.
Because with them comes the drawing of a torso torn in two. Writer-director Perry Blackshear intentionally keeps their origins shrouded in mystery as he brings us into the Shaw siblings’ lives, despite tiny details that can’t help get our minds racing. Are they a demon? A nightmare? Who knows. We see the latter early on: two glowing orbs in the blackness of an open closet.
When those leaps forward become threatened by adversity, however, old feelings of self-loathing return with menacing yellow eyes in the shadows. And they have hope again: Daphne dreams of adopting a child to love like they never were, Wilson aspires to turn his janitorial job into a teaching career to give kids the time they were never afforded. They cut out their parents years ago and did their best to power through the trauma they endured, but it almost came crashing down courtesy the former’s long-lasting drug addiction. Daphne (Libby Ewing) and Wilson Shaw (Evan Dumouchel) didn’t really have anyone growing up besides themselves.