Unnamed Footage Festival 2025: ‘What I Remember’ explores gender and a tragic disappearance
Alex Hera stretches her short film into a full-length feature.
Rating: 3 out of 5.
Some of the best horror films explore gender and sexuality. From Cat People (1942) and Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde to modern fare like I Saw the TV Glow, there is a wealth of genre stories that use horror mechanics as metaphors for the inner turmoil, the push and pull against society and faith. Writer/director Alex Hera’s What I Remember firmly roots itself within the same sphere as these films and achieves in transmitting its story right to the audience. It’s unconventional in that there are no body-rattling jump scares or even the more subtle kind. Hera builds tension and mood from the ground up, taking your hand as the story unravels and things grow darker by the minute.
The film opens with the reveal that Ryan (Cabe Thompson) has disappeared. His best friend and love interest, Sam (Alexandra Boulas), leaves him several voicemails, which we hear over an otherwise serene scene of her on the beach. A pastel sunset covers the sky behind her, and the waves lap at the sand. The film references both the past and present throughout the film, equally giving ample build up to Sam and Ryan’s relationship and the anxiety over trying to find him. In knowing Ryan has vanished, the viewer goes along for the harrowing ride, just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
While out for one of his nature hikes, Ryan video records a heated argument between Sam, whom he hasn’t met yet, and another man. When things get physical, Ryan steps in to “save” Sam, and she promptly punches the other guy before dashing away down the trail. Ryan and Sam bond over the incident and walk down the mountain to the neighborhood. Ryan wonders if he’ll ever see Sam again, and she plays coy. Naturally, the two strike up a quick infatuation with each other. Things begin as a platonic friendship before budding into something else entirely. The first half of the film spends its time introducing us to the characters, their backstories, and their chemistry. When we enter the back half, everything shifts as Ryan begins questioning his gender, first expressing interest in women’s clothes and nail polish.
Sam immediately accepts Ryan and his curiosity about femininity. It’s heartwarming. She then offers to paint his nails and allows him to go through her closet. He tries on various tight-legged jeans, spiked bracelets and belts, and crop tops. Through this healthy exploration, Ryan slowly begins to understand himself on a deeper level – even approaching his mother about birth names. If he had turned out to be a girl, she would have likely named him Rachel. Ryan urges Sam to call him by that, not permanently but as a gauge on whether it fits him. There is no talk about pronouns, but there doesn’t need to be. The film does a masterful job of dissecting the gender journey and how transformative it can be to simply express what could be your most authentic identity.
The name Hayden Thomas is mentioned several times. It’s only in the third act that we learn he was a gay man who disappeared many years previously, hinting that there are plenty of bigoted folks in town. When Ryan goes missing, it stands to reason that he could have bee a victim of a hate crime, even though the film never explicitly states it as such. Sam remains distraught. She drives out to the woods and searches on foot for any signs of his whereabouts. Against her better judgement, she does it alone and can only hear the deafening silence around her. It’s a stunningly sad story.
Hera colors What I Remember with crackling embers. They zipper the story with natural, strong dialogue as the driving force behind the story. It’s not action but rather character. With the building blocks in place, that’s when Hera unfurls the mystery with detail about how it all impacts those around Ryan, from Sam to her roommates. If you’re looking for a fright fest, look elsewhere. It’s far less about horrifying you in the traditional found-footage sense but inducing inescapable dread. What I Remember is a melancholic set piece about the ravages of isolation as one explores their identity and a desperation to get out. As the United States devolves into a devastating oligarchy, films like this are increasingly relevant and might save us all.
