They Look Like People

 Ben (MacLeod Andrews) doesn't just suspect that there are monsters among us - he knows it; He's seen through them, even though They Look Like People. They taunt him while awake and in dreams, and people call him to tell him the end is nigh - in fact, the time where the monsters will attack an unsuspecting, hopelessly infiltrated humanity is extremely fucking nigh. If you'll forgive the reference.

 Before he runs to the hills, though, Ben looks up an old childhood friend, Wyatt (Evan Dumouchel) - the two reconnect and Wyatt, recognizing his estranged buddy seems to be in a rough situation, invites him to crash a few days in his tiny apartment.

 Wyatt has got a lot going on himself; For one, he's overcompensating for his insecurities by working out and engaging in some performative douchebaggery. Sorry, 'dominating'. He's not quite shown reading Jordan Peterson, but he's got one of those self-help tapes with ridiculous, overblown motivational compliments. The 'You are a powerful tree but with diamond-hard penises instead of leaves' kind of thing, read by a breathless female narrator*. He's also trying to ask Mara, his young boss (Margaret Ying Drake), out on a date.

 As Mara and Wyatt tentatively develop a relationship, Ben becomes increasingly erratic, seeing monsters everywhere. They Look Like People's gentle, slow-burning psychological horror often takes a back seat to something that feels more like a hangout movie or a quiet indie dramedy. There's more  than a little bit of tension as to whether Ben's delusions are going to come to violence, but I was actually more worried about whether his visions are real or not, because the film shores up one of the two possibilities so much that I started dreading it would try to subvert that and spring a final surprise.

 I won't say whether it does or not, but while the script writes itself into a bit of a bind by the end, it still manages a strong, satisfying resolution.

 Writer/director/editor/producer/cinematographer/sound and production designer Perry Blackshear has crafted a lovely, heartfelt film that manages to feel authentic while still throwing you off with some unorthodox choices. There are some clunky interactions, but for the most part it's all handled with real warmth, reasonable subtlety, and grace. The acting is very decent, especially Dumouchel, who does a great job imbuing a very flawed character with humanity, vulnerability and uniqueness. Both central couples (Ben and Wyatt, Wyatt and Mara) have good chemistry.

 There are a couple special effects - all of them simple and very lo-fi, since the budget here is only a smidgen above the 'a couple of friends and a camera' level, but some scenes manage to be fairly creepy. The rest... not so much. The shooting style is close, intimate handheld shots for most of the film, growing a little more wobbly as Ben's mental state deteriorates; Stylistically there's not a lot to distinguish it from any number of DiY indie movies, but it's effective.

 Most of all, though, it's the well-developed, very likeable characters that stand out, which is good because this is a deeply character-driven film. By the end I wanted all of these goofballs to avoid their presumable genre-mandated horrible fates; I can think of no end of films where the opposite was true, so this one is definitely doing something right.

*: This actually gets an origin story of sorts in one of the film's clunkier (but still cute) touches.