Nobody’s perfect
Until I Hear From You is therapeutic, graphic
Laura Blakley Staff
A video camera set up on the kitchen table points at Rob as he tries to think of what to say. Played by Daniel MacIvor, Rob apologizes over and over. “Alan, I’m making my apology permanent,” he says, as he moves to the roof of his apartment building to “shout [his] shame to the neighbourhood.” He gets sidetracked, he repeats himself, says that he wants to change, and documents his attempts to do so.
Until I Hear From You is an uncomfortably graphic portrayal of the hurt that follows the dissolution of a relationship. Rob goes from feeling guilt-ridden to betrayed, to defiant when his ex-boyfriend Alan doesn’t call. Rob changes the perspective of the camera so the viewer no longer watches him. Instead the viewer sees what is intended for Alan, as Rob vows that “this is all you will see, until I hear from you,” which of course, never happens.
Rob is alone and unsupervised. He needs attention. If you can give it to him, he will love you until someone else distracts him, and then you can sit back and watch the movie he has made that shows you how he has moved on.
In the middle of the first day of his apology, with the camera on, he “slips up” with his neighbour. “I could have cut that part out, but I didn’t,” Rob says, even though there was no graphic sex scene.
What follows are the documented days and weeks of Rob talking to his friends and neighbours, trying to forget Alan and failing miserably. After a time I started to wonder if he would realize that the very act of continuing to film the apology and the “I’m-so-over-you” part of his life is a sign that he is not, in fact, over his ex.
Love in all its forms, including failure, has long been the fodder of art and discussion. We’ve all felt something for someone else, had hope that it would work, and had those times when we just walked away feeling like a fool. Filming someone in the course of a love-recovery could be the worst idea for a movie simply because it’s too painful, and too familiar.
Until never really feels resolved, but healing processes rarely have a distinct finish. There is the parallel sub-plot of Rob’s recovery from an attack suffered at the hands of some coke-heads he invites into his apartment. The video montage that follows shows the effects on his face, and we get to see the changes he makes in his life during that time, as he celebrates a year of sobriety.
Maybe it would make you uncomfortable to see this guy at his lowest, and maybe you want to tell him to just suck it up and forget about Alan. It’s possible that you’ve seen this scenario a hundred times already in your own mirror, and it may be therapeutic to hear someone else say the things you were too embarrassed to tell. MacIvor’s character is painfully human and will make you wonder if one can ever tell whether someone has moved on.
For more information or tickets to see Call Me: The Short Films of Dan MacIvor, which includes Until I Hear From You, at the third Annual Gala Evening of the Winnipeg Film Group on February 10, call Cinematheque at 925 - 3454.
