To complicate matters, Beth is not blameless, although she operates in a miasma of plausible deniability. Beth engages in subtle moments of sabotage throughout. In one painful scene, Beth co-opts the attention of a guy Anna seems interested in and does so in a way that is impossible to clock. Anna is not wrong about Beth.
This is such an accurate observation about what can happen between actresses when one of them starts to pull ahead. Oscar Wilde, in his essay The Soul of Man Under Socialism, expressed it perfectly: “Anyone can sympathise with the sufferings of a friend, but it requires a very fine nature—it requires, in fact, the nature of a true Individualist to sympathise with a friend’s success.”
Cinematographer Mark Schwartzbard makes the majestic Big Sur landscape seem like an emanation from the emotions of the women: Waves crash against the rocks, thick fog rolls in, trees stand like sentinels. There are specific choices that work beautifully, like the camera following Beth as she paces on the deck in an increasingly frenzied manner. There's one great shot where the two women turn into three: Anna, alone onscreen, back to the camera, stares into a mirror. In the mirror is a reflection of her face, as well as a reflection of Beth's face, off-camera, but still present in the background. Editor Zach Clark (whose directorial effort "Little Sister" was one of the pleasures of this fall) intercuts the action with brief glimpses of violence, so brief you can't tell what's happening, figures, darkness, movement, accompanied by screams, cut short. "Always Shine" is not a mumblecore kitchen-sink-reality film. It's highly stylized. Some of the stylistic choices work better than others. The horror tropes are familiar, bordering on cliche. What is truly terrifying is the cataclysm opening up between the women, the volatility of their dynamic.
None of this would be possible without the extraordinary performances of these two actresses. Mackenzie Davis gives a star-making performance. A maelstrom of emotions churn all over her expressive face: sharp anger, wounded hurt and baffled confusion. This is a woman who needs more space to maneuver, who needs to live in a world that lets her be, lets her be as loud, as passionate, as emotional as she is. It's how she's wired, and it's devastating that nobody wants it—not men, not casting directors, not Beth, not anyone. Caitlin FitzGerald portrays a woman whose submissiveness is habitual and learned. But when her anger starts to bubble up, when she finally has had enough of being Anna's punching bag, you see that Anna has perhaps underestimated her friend all along.
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