Out of Fantastic Fest, James Cullen Bressack’s found footage film I Have Proof sluggishly meanders for most of its lean 77-minute runtime. The writer/director uses magnetizing guerrilla filmmaking to create a grungy, glitchy journey into the mind of a madman. It’s visually affecting, hitting emotional nails with the propulsion of an air rifle. But the deep character study suffers from a directionless middle that not only tests the audience’s patience, but also nearly undercuts the delightfully disturbing final 20 minutes. Bressak delivers the necessary sucker punch for the film’s ending with glee; it’s a tad deflating that it takes so long to get to such an unhinged place.
Alex (Larsen Deane) claims to have proof that reality isn’t reality at all. It’s all an illusion, a hallucination stemming from mass hysteria. You won’t believe it until you see Alex’s proof, and he’s ready to show you. He also doesn’t talk much; he holds up signs, including one assuring the viewer that he’s not suicidal. He’s in danger (we all are), and he makes it his mission to expose the man behind the curtain. Deane’s performance is appropriately diabolical and deranged, pouring an aloofness so bizarre that it’s like doing acid on a roller coaster. The images snap, jerk around, and effectively heighten Alex’s collapsing mental state. Bressack and Deane expertly hone in on the fragility of existence through an outsider lens. The filmmaker disrupts the audience’s balance, but it’s a cool trick that runs out of steam within 15 minutes, leaving you feeling cold and detached.
When I Have Proof rebounds, Bressack pulls you back into a sticky web of matrix-bending and body horror that could make anyone a little bit squeamish. Deane slowly calculates his performance with biting menace, yet there’s a tendency to retread stale beats midway through until hitting the breakthrough around the 55-minute mark. Pinches of dread aren’t enough to keep the film’s motor running, and many viewers might check out on seeing through to the finale. But it’s in everyone’s best interests to push through for the gruesome payoff.
There’s a gem of a short film buried within I Have Proof. As it stands, however, it’s a funeral dirge with seemingly no end. James Cullen Bressack explores themes of disenchantment with society, loneliness fed by the monstrous digital age, and rampant misinformation that’s caused us to never take someone’s word at face value. And that will ultimately lead to our civilization’s fiery demise. For now, all we have is time, and Bressack stretches it out unnecessarily. We beg for it to snap, but it never will.
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