‘MONOLITH’: An Efficient Low-budget SCI-FI Thriller
Based on a gripping script by Lucy Campbell, Matt Vesely's debut feature follows a disgraced podcast host as she delves into an unsolved mystery, offering a unique perspective on the intricacies of journalistic storytelling.
Lily Sullivan takes on the role of an unnamed journalist in search of captivating stories for her new podcast. Having faced a setback in her career, she spends her days digging for new leads while navigating the fallout of her past mistakes in the form of angry emails and public apologies. Forced out of her residence, she improvises a recording studio within her parents' modernist mansion—a bright architectural beauty with floor-to-ceiling windows and a sprawling, infinite garden.
Her fortunes take a turn when a maid named Floramae (voiced by Ling Cooper Tang) tells her she once received a strange black brick. She explains that she could not determine its origin or purpose, but its confiscation by her employers caused a cataclysmic upheaval in her life.
Lily Sullivan in ‘Monolith’
At first, the story does not seem that fascinating, but one interview at a time, Sullivan's character collects information and gradually unravels the mystery. We learn that these peculiar objects frequently emerge in the wake of traumatic events, inciting intense anxiety and fear. Most importantly, those who encounter them often feel as though they are receiving messages from another dimension.
These initial questioning scenes, with Vesely's camera zooming in on Sullivan's face, capture her scrutiny of callers who claim ownership of these intriguing rocks. Vesely skillfully uses striking production design and a minimalist approach to invigorate an audio-driven storyline. The dialogue is sharp, and Sullivan's reactions are so vivid that we can discern the moment a conversation takes a negative turn.
Lily Sullivan ‘Monolith’
While it becomes evident that Sullivan doubts the callers' claims, viewers also begin to question her reliability. Despite reassuring Floramae that she won't manipulate her words, she edits the conversation herself to mold it into her own narrative. She clearly places herself in the middle of her creative process, and the film is in many ways an exploration of isolation.
The visuals, enveloped in sophisticated gray tones, create a sense of entrapment within the house that aligns perfectly with the story's suffocating mood. This sense of confinement is also emphasized by a pet turtle, stuck in its grimy tank, that refuses to eat. Sullivan's character is so closely bound to her microphone that it’s easy to wonder if she’ll ever get up. When she finally steps outside for a smoke, the sight of fresh air feels like a breath of relief.
Sullivan delivers a captivating and nuanced performance that serves as the film's anchor. While her role mainly involves reacting to voices on the other end of the phone at first, the finale allows her to amplify the terror through a chilling performance reminiscent of her intense and gory role in ‘Evil Dead Rise.’ As the narrative races towards its violent climax, revelations cast a monstrous light on her past, transforming her into both the villain and victim of her own story.
‘Monolith’ also serves as a cautionary tale about journalistic ethics. Sullivan’s character sets aside ethical considerations as she plunges into the story, convinced this could be a career-defining breakthrough. Yet, is she truly informing the public about an otherworldly mystery, or is she merely spreading global panic? Seeing her subjects as an impersonal monolith, a mere collection of sources rather than individuals, she sees no issue with exploiting their stories for personal gain. By not fully condemning Sullivan’s complex character, Campbell’s script challenges us to consider our own actions in similar circumstances.
AFTERTASTE
3.5