{Sundance 2023} My animal – review

“Love can make a beast out of a man, but love can also make a beast beautifulShelley Duvall’s Faerie Tale Theater ushers in the lycan queer coming-of-age My Animal.

The TV shined a light on protagonist Heather (Bobbi Salvör Menuez) who grew wilder and sputtered down these words of hope and love before violently howling at the moon.

This Beauty and the Beast prologue sets the tone Jacqueline Castel‘s feature debut, a neon-drenched, strange she-wolf tale of self-discovery.

The film, which will premiere at the Sundance Film Festival, suggests there’s nothing more powerful and terrifying than being young and in love, using a werewolf metaphor to portray otherness and isolation.

Brought to life by Menuez’s understated performance, Heather knows a thing or two about alienation in her 1980s snowy town. A Lycan excited at the sight of female wrestlers fighting, this silent protagonist struggles with her most visceral needs.

Her alienation works on a double level. Heather is a strange woman in a town where nothing ever happens and an impulsive, potentially deadly monster who must be chained to her bed every full moon. Not having much going on herself, Heather tries desperately to suppress what makes her unique and consistently fails.

Dealing with casual bullying and sexism, especially when she insists on joining the local hockey team, she can barely contain her anger. This veteran goalkeeper is also abused by her own mother (Heidi von Palleske), who finds solace in the bottle, and her younger twin brothers (Charles and Harrison Halpenny).

Her lycan father (Stephen McHattie) is the only character who is ever kind and understanding. He provides Heather with a wise, benevolent guide in an otherwise indifferent, if not overtly hostile, environment.

Red like a chromatic thermometer for Heather and Jonny

Dreaming of a normal life from behind the concession stand of the local ice rink, the main character immediately falls for newcomer Jonine/Jonny (Amandla Stenberg, also executive producer). A figure skater who just moved to the city understands isolation.

Their unusual yet instant connection lights up in vibrant reds as they quietly brave dysfunctional families, worthless boyfriends and self-loathing. Cinematographer Bryn McCashin’s use of red dominates the film. Acting as a chromatic thermometer to Heather and Jonny’s explosive relationship, crimson neon visions alternate with mundane, muted scenes.

Castel makes a sensual film that exudes sexiness and style thanks to the natural chemistry between Menuez and Stenberg. The director focuses on unlocking Heather’s bold imagination as she struggles with her true nature and whether or how much to tell Jonny. Beautifully choreographed and inventive, the sex scenes feel organic, with one featuring eggs that will make you look at that protein source differently forever.

My Animal screams strange, sensual supernatural romance

My Animal screams wild, sensual supernatural romance and could become a new entry in the young adult queer cinematic canon. (Paramount, which acquired the distribution rights, is clearly aware of this.)

It’s especially refreshing to see a father wholly supportive of his daughter’s desires and kick the toxic, patriarchal family dynamic to the curb. But Heather’s quirk and sassy good looks aren’t spared by the town’s bullies, and sadly, neither is Jonny. She may be cooler than the other kids trapped in this provincial town, but her relationship with Heather is uneven. Their rises and falls are never properly addressed or resolved. The movie never reveals her backstory except for a few moments of loneliness and the origin of her male nickname.

These details give Jonny the look of a cool girl, and it’s understandable why Heather would pursue her, but it still feels a little flimsy. This is perhaps one of the film’s biggest flaws. My Animal is so determined to work Heather out that it almost accidentally allows Jonny to live in the realm of fantasy. She serves the protagonist’s story and evolution, but never really gets out of her love interest status. This feels all the more disappointing as her background and past would have added a reflection on racial injustice and internalized homophobia to the film.

A genre-transcending identity story

My Animal seems to be content with its fragmentary structure without ever going for a cohesive story, bending genres around Heather. While Jae Matthews’ script depicts the dull limbo adolescence can feel for some, its aimlessness can be frustrating. The plot never really settles down. There may be something about the movie that speaks to the idea that bored, enthusiastic teens might not give rise to the certainty that something better awaits. However, you can still find some joyous moments of truth in certain rites of passage.

There’s a very sensory scene where Heather joins Jonny and her friends at the casino. It’s a coven of outcasts who are their unashamed selves through sour, dizzying and giggling between shiny slot machines. But it’s a full moon and Heather has to run home before it’s too late. Missing curfew would not only land her under house arrest, but would also turn lives upside down. That urgency, combined with a sense of imminent danger, is the closest thing to a teenage experience Heather will ever have, and it’s exciting.

Nothing really gory ever happens in the film, and if you look to My Animal for the sheer, chilling horror of werewolf stories, you won’t find much here. What you’ll find instead is a bumpy tale of self-acceptance, enriched by its lycanthropy element but, like Heather, undefined by it.

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