MATT & MARA (B+) - Mara, a creative-writing adjunct professor, is discombobulated throughout this indie endeavor, and it is to Deragh Campbell's credit that the character can hold your interest in that state for 80 minutes. She is numb to her husband and toddler, and she is being hounded by an old friend, whose passive-aggressive antics push her buttons.
Matt (Matt Johnson) is Mara's pal from grad school. He reminds her -- by pointing out that he really shouldn't remind her -- that he's a published author and she is not. It has apparently been years since Matt has graced her presence in Toronto, but their deep platonic connection has never waned. As her husband forsakes her for an album his band is recording, Mara will be vulnerable to Matt's goofy charms. The question is, will they cross a line during a road trip to a conference that Mara is presenting at across the border in New York.
Johnson is one of our favorites, both in front of and behind the camera, most recently in "Operation Avalanche" and "BlackBerry." He has a rubbery face and impeccable timing, with an improvisational ease. Campbell here does everything with her face, especially her eyes, suggesting a deer-in-the-headlights daze from everything life is throwing at her, whether it is her marriage or her students or a general numbness over her career. She has a delicate voice but a determination to push through whatever phase this is in her life.
Writer-director Kazik Radwanski (who also used Campbell in "Anne at 13,000 Ft.") chronicles every tic and furrowed brow of Mara, and he lets his two stars vamp and bicker. There are a couple of deep conversations -- at one point Matt offers his philosophy of existence by saying, "I'm letting my imagination reach right to the level of my own stupidity which makes it my reality" -- but he also keeps it loose, like with a scene in which a barrista rudely drives them out of a coffee shop at closing time or when the two practice smiling at strangers on the street. This is smart neo-Mumblecore, propelled by two talented leads.
SLOW (B) - This offbeat character study out of Lithuania explores the lifestyle of the asexual. It's a laconic slice-of-life that manages to wring joy and pathos out of a tender love story.
Dance teacher Elena (Greta Grineviciute) has a meet-cute at her studio with Dovydas (Kestutis Cicenas) a sign-language interpreter, and after a few hangouts he drops the A-bomb on her: He has no interest in sexual relations with another person. After getting over the initial shock (it's not a joke, Elena immediately learns), Elena booty-calls an ex, but the sex is so underwhelming that she returns to Dovydas and agrees to explore a relationship full of kissing and cuddling but no serious rounding of third base.
Writer-director Marija Kavtaradze takes a low-key approach and refuses to sensationalize the topic. The narrative unfolds steadily, as the couple rewrite the rules of a romantic relationship. The highs are not too high and the lows are not too low. The actors are attractive but average-looking, with regular-sized personalities. Grineviciute captures the quiet torture of a woman who has finally found a suitable partner and true love but cannot close the deal in a way that suits her physical needs.
BONUS TRACKS
"Slow" has a pop/techno soundtrack that features a couple of songs from Sweden's Irya Gmeyner, including "Dancing in the Park":
And "Electric," from Gmeyner and Martin Hederos:
And from the movie's climax, April Snow (Gmeyner's alter-ego) with "We Fucked It Up":
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