What’s better than going on a weekend getaway to a remote forest in the middle of nowhere with your best friend? Probably the fact that neither of you is particularly fond of the other, and will spend most of the time engaging in games of psychological warfare, deconstructing the hopes and insecurities of the person who you proclaim as your most valued confidante. This is essentially the central premise of Almost Shine, the daring psychological thriller by Sophia Takal, who manages to weave together a harrowing tale of a deteriorating friendship by borrowing heavily from works by the likes of Robert Altman and Ingmar Bergman, repurposing some of their themes into her own unique vision that pays tribute to a very distinct kind of relationship, one built on trust, but somehow kept together through an unspoken resentment, upheld by the sense of proving the other wrong as a means of realizing one’s own personal quandaries, almost as if letting go of this friendship, which is already hanging by a slender thread, will cause someone to fall apart entirely on their own. Takal put together a riveting drama that has some notable overtures of dark comedy and some unsettling horror, a vivid and terrifying experience that seeks to cut to the core of some of life’s more incomprehensible challenges, exploring the psychological machinations of ordinary people driven to the brink of insanity by nothing other than the sheer force of their own arrogance, and refusal to realize their own flaws, culminating in nothing short of truly disorienting tragedy that reminds us of the necessary steps needed to keep what remains of our sanity.

If the premise of Always Shine sounds intense, it’s because there are few films that are quite as daunting as this, particularly when it comes to looking at something as simple as a friendship. This is a remarkably simple film – for the first two acts, it plays as a straightforward drama, with the growing sense of dread contributing to the tension that is introduced in the final act, where the film loses all of its composure and becomes a harrowing array of terrifying moments that leave us either traumatized or enthralled, depending on how we view the underlying message. Takal’s work is masterful – she composes every scene with a kind of renegade poignancy, taking a story that doesn’t have much detail to it, and moulding it into a disconcerting glimpse into the human condition, by way of focusing on the story of two friends and an ill-fated vacation to Big Sur. From this simple premise comes several other discussions – the concept of fame, the role of women in the film industry (a very prominent aspect of the story that could’ve easily become even more of the focus) and the general insecurities felt by the modern generation. Like its thematic predecessors, Always Shine isn’t always very easy to get a grasp on – beyond the basic story, there is a lot of nuance to this film that takes some time to get accustomed to. Characters are woven into the fabric of the story, some of them serving purposes that only come about later on, others being entirely arbitrary, red herrings that exist solely to distract us from the growing sense of despair that is gradually encapsulating the entire film. Moreover, just like the works that clearly inspired it, Always Shine packs an emotional punch that will leave even the most cynical viewers exasperated – and so much can be gleaned from even the most insignificant moment of this film as a result of its consistent pursuit of some metaphysical understanding of some intangible concepts.

Always Shine is a complex portrait of feminity that never abandons its steadfast intentions, becoming quite radical in its outlook. What makes this so compelling is that it doesn’t immediately announce itself as the perverted psychological thriller it is going to gradually develop into – it isn’t misleading, since there is clear tension from the first moments (aided by some terrifying flashes into the future that are peppered throughout the first act), but it also doesn’t lay its intentions bare from the outset. It’s a challenging work that seeks to comment on various ideas without becoming too self-indulgent, a narrow tightrope that the director navigates with such ease, it is almost surprising that she was a relative newcomer at the time in which this film was made. Even when it fully descends into the realm of unhinged anarchy, there is something so compulsively entertaining about Always Shine, a sense of lingering dread that simultaneously repulses us, but also draws us in, playing on our inherent curiosity that is piqued through the use of a very subdued surrealism that serves the purpose of manipulating our perspective in truly creative ways. Several of its moments are truly horrifying, but are balanced by darkly comical overtures that lend the film some context, the kind that may not make us laugh, but rather question what we’re seeing. There’s a warped sense of humour that complements the unrestrained terror that takes place in the final parts of the film, creating a certain imbalance that would be a shortcoming in a more traditional film, but becomes one of the defining aspects of this one, especially when we realize the extents to which the director and the rest of her collaborators are going to give us an original experience.

The film is mostly successful due to being anchored by two very good performances. Caitlin FitzGerald is by far the better of the two, playing the fragile Beth with elegance and restraint, which is sharply contrasted by the climax of the film, where she takes on an entirely different persona, going against the standards set down by the character at the outset and making her performance one that is fundamentally complex on principle alone. FitzGerald’s acting style is exactly what this film needed in order to fully realize the character of Beth – her penetrating glance contrasts with her underlying delicacy, creating an unforgettable protagonist who is characterized by an actress fully in control of the narrative, almost becoming the author of her own story. Mackenzie Davis may pale in comparison, especially since most of her performance constructs her as a deeply unlikable character, but she too has many moments of incredible complexity, which come across so vividly, especially when the narrative flips these characters around (echoing Altman’s 3 Women, which has a very similar approach). The chemistry between the actors may have needed some tinkering, since there is a clear imbalance in how much the film is willing to develop one over the other, but for the most part, these two are the sole reasons to seek this film out – not that other aspects of Always Shine are not exceptional, but rather everything else about the film required strong performances from the two leads, who took on these intimidating characters and made them so enthralling to watch on screen.

Ultimately, words are cheap, and Always Shine is a film that needs to be seen, since no amount of discussion can do this work justice. It’s a complex, chilling psychological thriller with a lot of underlying meaning, most of which really only manifests towards the end, following about an hour of carefully-calibrated tension that gradually makes way for a cataclysm of thinly-veiled terror that may appear to be deranged for the sake of it, but actually carries a deeper meaning, which is all very much open to interpretation. This is an ambitious work, a simple but effective thriller that takes on many different forms, and gives the viewer the chance to explore a demented vision of the world, journeying into the intimate recesses of this friendship and watching it fall apart before our eyes. There’s a narrow boundary between artistic provocation and outright voyeurism, and Always Shine grapples it perfectly, being restrained enough to not be inappropriate, but consistently pushing the envelope in unprecedented ways. It’s a strange, hypnotic film that doesn’t always make its intentions clear, but it does manage to be wildly inventive and extraordinarily fascinating on both a character and conceptual level. As a result, it’s bound to be a divisive film, but even at its most relentlessly challenging, it is still a worthwhile glimpse into the human condition, giving us the chance to see a different side of it, and hopefully not losing our own sanity along the way, if that’s even possible after being witness to the ambitious lunacy of this film.