Review by Ben Bussey
There’s a joke about this being a ‘cult’ movie in here somewhere, but try as I might I can’t seem to pin it down. You see, not only is the debut feature of writer-director Riley Stearns a film likely to attract a cult following, but it also deals with the subject of religious cults – but in a rather unexpected and unpredictable fashion. It’s also one of those tricky movies which defies easy genre categorisation; it’s not exactly horror, yet not exactly straight drama, and while there’s plenty of humour in the mix it’s certainly not a comedy either. Ultimately this unconventionality is a huge part of what makes the film so appealing, though while it may often leave the viewer uncertain as to where it’s all headed, its key strengths are readily apparent: compelling writing and direction from Stearns, and two exemplary central performances from Leland Orser and Mary Elizabeth Winstead (also the film’s producer).
Orser is Ansel Roth, and it seems the plan was that he’d be the figurehead of a media empire by now as one of the world’s foremost experts on religious cults – and, even more vitally, how to ‘deprogram’ those who have fallen under the spell of such shady organizations. Alas, this isn’t quite how it has worked out, as when we meet him he’s reduced to hosting miniscule seminars in fleapit motels with a tower of unsold books at his side, some rather pressing debts hanging over his head, and some great personal and professional failures weighing down on his heart. Just when he’s a hair’s breadth away from giving it all up (not just the career, but life itself), a chance at redemption – and, not for nothing, remuneration – suddenly arises in the form of a middle-aged couple desperately seeking Roth’s help in retrieving their daughter Claire (Winstead) from a cult known only as Faults. The parents agree to a somewhat radical course of action which sees Roth kidnap Claire and steal her away to a remote motel room in which she is to be forcibly yet humanely imprisoned, and through several days of counselling be persuaded to step outside of the cult mindset and get back to her old life. Whether Roth can succeed in doing so whilst also keeping a rather insistent debt collector at bay is another matter. And then, of course, there’s always that old chestnut of whether or not things are quite what they seem…
Yeah – as well as being a tricky genre-dodger, Faults is also a film that’s tricky to talk about in much detail without getting into spoilers (which, don’t worry, I will endeavour to avoid here). I’ll go so far as to say that in many respects it’s evocative of The Wicker Man, but even that feels like saying a little too much. Essentially what we have here is a character-based piece which almost feels more akin to a stage play with its minimal cast and locations, and predominant emphasis on dialogue over action. Nevertheless, it develops into something intensely atmospheric and fascinating, dealing with compelling questions not only about the religious convictions of Winstead’s supposed victim, but also the convictions of Orser’s supposed deprogramming expert. A broken man who initially tells the woman’s parents he no longer gives a shit, Claire comes to embody Roth’s last chance to prove that he isn’t a fraud and a failure. Nor is this the only thing she comes to embody for Roth, as his feelings toward his subject threaten to go a bit beyond the accepted standards of a doctor-patient relationship.
There will, I’m sure, be some cries of nepotism at Winstead’s casting here, given she’s also the wife of writer-director Stearns; but then, given she’s a vastly bigger name than he is, surely it would closer to the truth to say he’s riding her coat tails. But in any instance, this is not a case of celebrity stunt casting, for while the role of Claire is pretty far removed from the bulk of the more mainstream fare Winstead made her name on, it’s a role she proves a perfect fit for. There’s a curious emotional distance about her that makes her difficult to read, clearly making her a particular challenge to her would-be saviour. Also, this may be the fact that I’ve long been a little in love with the actress speaking, but it’s not at all hard to see how Roth would fall under her spell. This may be one respect in which the director being the actress’s husband is an advantage, as Stearns’ camera manages to emphasise Winstead’s obvious desirability without getting sleazy about it. There’s one staggeringly sexy moment in which a semi-clad Winstead delivers an extremely quotable line which I’m really having to fight the urge to give away… you’ll know it when you hear it, I assure you.
Still, as much as Winstead is at the heart of it all, the film really belongs to Leland Orser, and his performance is the real revelation. Up to now he’s been one of those actors whom I’d see in the odd movie and say, “hey, I’ve seen him before” – I primarily remember him as the guy John Doe fitted with the lethal strap-on of doom in Seven. Here, he really emerges as a leading man of note; Roth is the kind of role you could easily imagine William H Macy or Bryan Cranston acting up a storm in, an ineffectual man torn between his better judgement and his ambition, but all the while teetering on the brink of a nervous breakdown. It’s all very tragi-comic, and the humour is vital to the film’s success, but this is never at the expense of the emotional drama which steadily builds toward an inevitably explosive finale – though, perhaps not explosive in the way you might expect.
Screening on the penultimate day of Abertoir 2014, Faults was not the first new film I saw at the Aberystwyth event, and as previously stated its status as a horror film is open to debate; yet it grabbed me in a way none of the other new films managed, winding up probably my favourite of the festival. It’s not hard to envisage it breaking through to a wider audience, and it certainly deserves to do so. I recommend seeking it out at your earliest opportunity.