The first feature of Mitzi Peirone in 2018 “Braid” was a series of naughty disguise games posing as a thriller, which appreciated the style on the substance to the point that there was almost nothing solid for a spectator to hang. His second effort, “Saint Clare”, takes a step in the right direction, with Guinevere Turner on board as a co-series in the adaptation of Don Roff’s novel in 2021 “Clare at Sixween”. This injects a larger degree of narrative spine to this vehicle for Bella Thorne as a young woman in a unique small town equipped to cope with a plague of possibly fatal disappearances – she is a kind of serial killer herself, although which only feeds on predators.
The book (which started an ongoing series) was described as a “deliciously black teenage horror comedy” recalling “Heathers”. However, the Peirone film does not strike this tonal brand, rather aiming for an unstable combination of quasi-span, dream of fever, rom-com, mystery of investigation and fantasy of revenge. Again, the aesthetics seem more agitated than the suspense mechanics or the definition of character. But those looking for a cool mixture of GRRL gender power and trophies can find this independent production which diverts sufficiently.
Introduced a rehearsal of a mantra allegedly spoken by Joan d’Arc (“Everything I said and done was in the hands of God. I was born to do so. I am not afraid.”), Clare Bleecker of Thorne is a hot disorder in conflict which has just moved for the nrème time since the loser of the parents of years before. Passed from the adolescent to Collegian to suit the distribution of the actress, she now lives with the grandmother Gigi (Rebecca de Mornay) and attends university courses in Pickman apartments with leaves. But her woods are only used to remind her of a childhood incident in which she alone saved the counterparts from a random maniac. Since then, she has also returned cold justice to other Perps, including a Goon (Bart Johnson) who finished her in a “return home” from a bus stop for obvious harmful purposes. His premature disappearance, however, does not prevent more from young women from disappearing because they have heabouts for three decades.
Although also tormented and constrained by her mission as victim of victim, Clare soon sniffs a doubtful behavior among her classmates. They include the Dramatic Department Princess Amicity (Erica Dasher), his ex-little friend Wade (Dylan Flashner), the study partner Juliana (Joy Rovaris) and the Truman campus photographer (Jan Luis Castellanos). Meanwhile, Clare’s own poor food hours spent flowing and stifling the bad guys who also attract suspicion, including grandmother and Timmons police (Ryan Philippe).
Add to the possible sexual traffic above, flashbacks, dreams, a friendly comic ghost (Frank Whaley), nobody other than Clare can see and the cross production of the “Deathtrap” school of Ira Levin (with Joel Michaely as elements of the old school made), and there is more than enough intrigue here for the graph. The problem is that Peirone does not seem very interested in mapping any convincing narrative path. It is more attracted by the test of different visual strategies, dealing with sequences as autonomous parts divided by current failures, rather than building a plot or cumulative tension. The result is stimulating but close to arbitrariness, with too many flashy montages and a rarity of internal logic of the Giallo type.
This lack of concentration extends to Clare itself: the film never decides if it wants to present it as a confidence with confidence, rigorous of the SSPT, a revengeful or delusional superheroine dangerous. Thorne carries the film, although more like a Tour of Star Mercurial Glamor than a completely round character. When Clare is supposed to undergo a collapse, his histrionics do not need to rise from a palpable psychological space – which is important is that the camera and the publishing grasp the hyperactive moment. Other things are lost in congestion, such as the “why” of the nervousness of grandmother, the sporadic Catholic religious imagery or the disappearance of Whaley of a good piece of execution. Arc and pretentious notes in dialogue are zilch to help clarify these questions.
However, the penchant for flamboyant visual and audio gambits maintains “Saint Clare” living in terms of texture, even if after a certain time, it does not seem to be what is what is terrible to whom. Although they do not really increase tension, warm colors and crazy angles in the cinematography of Luka Bazeli, as well as the pulsating electronic partition of Zola Jesus, all contribute to a feeling that it is an assertive vision of director – although undoubtedly, Peirone has not yet stylish or found material that will ideally serve it.
You might think that a story about a perhaps schizophrenic heroine would provide this adequacy. But despite a stronger premise this time, “Clare” echoes the previous characteristic of the filmmaker by remaining on a very worked surface – which does not light people and the events that treat them as decorative pawns in a game whose rules, as well as his victims, finally feel without consequence.
“Saint Clare” will be released in American theaters, on request and via digital platforms on July 18.
