I haven’t had a film pull me in so many different directions at once in some time, all of them curious and moving. With Love and a Major Organ, an absolute genre bender packed with innovation from director Kim Albright and writer Julia Lederer, is full to the brim with emotion, though no person is supposed to be emotional. In a dystopian future, human hearts, and the tending to them, are obsolete. Hearts themselves have been replaced with physical objects, it doesn’t matter the sort, and repression of all feelings is now considered a necessity and a benefit compared to trying to manage them. I loved the idea that our minds, which obviously control our hearts to some degree, could be washed, and our bodies ripped apart and turned partially inanimate—especially the one piece of us we need the most. Albright and Lederer create a character to root for in finding the right person to give her heart to, lest it end up in the wrong hands, or chest. This look into what life might be like if we were devoid of what makes us human, and what makes us all unique, was both unnerving, darkly humorous, and heartwarming, to say the least.
Anabel’s (Anna Maguire) mother used to say that the heart was like a ball of yarn, easy to unravel, to get caught on things, but in Anna’s eyes, this thread is beautiful. Walking through the woods, she sees a weeping man on a cliffside. As she approaches him, he reaches into his chest, pulls out a glowing object, and hurls it off the edge. His heart, as it turns out, is a vase of flowers and he’s just removed it, now beating its last detached thumps. This is the new world as we arrive in it, where hearts can no longer be depended on: an intro roll of credits shows us the litany of objects your heart could be, all blood stained and perfectly ordinary (salt shakers, tea cups) for filling the core of your being. Anabel wants to understand her heart and the troubling events in the woods, and seeks out a therapist, a dying profession of tired individuals ready to be unburdened of other people’s feelings. She marvels at the man ripping out his heart and tries to connect regarding her own heart (a lantern), bearing her soul to this haughty woman, as this is their last session. Exercise your emotions or violently suppress them, the therapist declares, as time is up. She stands, gets ready for a diner shift, and proclaims it’s an easier job than being a therapist ever was. All I could say was “Holy.” Currently wait lists for therapists are years long at some desired locations. Something about this world is intriguing.
Speaking of professions, Anabel is late for her work as a “virtual insurance agent.” Her commute is fueled with chants of “Feel nothing!” gleefully playing on the radio and promoted apps that manage life emotion free. The virtual insurance “where the loss may be virtual but the feelings are real!” is a depressing little place where things lost, like playlists or Facebook profiles, can be claimed for damages based on an emotional scale depending on the severity of the of the loss. While Anabel seems to invest herself in her clients, her co-worker and friend Casey (Donna Benedicto) is plugged into the app, listless as she handles people’s claims. She even has alarms for “emotional check-ins” with her significant other, while Anabel says she’d like to meet someone the “normal way,” unaware that this is very much the new normal.
At home, Anabel is painting away, an artistic spirit not fully desensitized. Her conversation with her mother that evening is clipped and flat; Anabel’s affectionate language is ignored and she’s hung up on whilst trying to understand her mother. The next day, late and covered in paint, Anabel is reprimanded for her conduct. In this world, even the tongue lashings feel soulless! And that day, in the park, Anabel takes a chance and waves to a wary stranger, George (Hamza Haq), reading his newspaper on another bench. The gesture is so foreign in this dystopia that the man asks if they know each other, as waving indicates familiarity, thanking her frankly for “waving for no reason.” Anabel asks about the news, of which there’s a new war, a new virus, but George reads yesterday’s news, saying he prefers to know how it worked out today. The two exchange awkward compliments and small talk before George excuses himself, but not before kindly offering his paper to Anabel—with all the bad news ripped out. This encounter causes Anabel to make a deep, poetic recording, describing feelings and metaphors I can’t imagine anyone outside might understand for George. They continue to cross paths, sharing cross chat and snacks, sparking Anabel’s itch for romance. Creating a painting to memorialize love, she takes the tape and leaves it on the park bench for George to find, in hopes that he may love her back, and that she can give her heart to someone, finally.
I laughed and gasped and even shed a few tears during this film. This was a coordinated assault on the viewers’ feelings and our director has good aim: my heartstrings were manipulated. Seeing a man with a new heart experience the world, with feelings flowing through him, brought a tear to my eye in this colder world of people using places such as the “Little House of Big Feelings” to stifle every urge, no matter how small or unsettling. The cast is beyond impressive; Hamza Haq leads the charge with free-flowing passion, with feelings big, small, or non-existent being represented by different characters orbiting the emotionally resonant heart. Anabel’s fantasies, scored with dreamy piano or haunting wordless choruses, bring her thoughts and desires to life through action and art.
It’s a fun task to track the bits and pieces of feeling that break through the enamel of numbness in other characters, and George and Anabel go through extraordinary transformations, making me feel blessed for having my own generally strong emotions. This film played my temperament like the harp, plucking along to each feeling you can name, reacting to people who have no reactions, and following a lost heart surrounded by lost people. Please, take the time to enjoy this film with someone: allow yourself to be open, and much like these characters take whatever they can to fill the void, invite this film in and let it make you feel. It’s healthier, after all, to be unrestrained in the joy and the pain of being human.
With Love and a Major Organ featured at the Fantasia International Film Festival 2023.