"band aid"
Mister Lister Films
The big takeaway from Zoe Lister-Jones' debut film, Band Aid, is the simple notion that every now and then it's perfectly fine, if not healthy, to yell at your significant other. Hell, in order to get through some seriously complex, underlying emotional issues, you sometimes need to bitch, scream and yell to ensure your feelings are heard. Lister-Jones' perceptible 'relationship under a microscope' beatnik tale does just that, while unmasking Los Angeles as the nucleus (or focal point) of self-aggrandizing thirty-somethings, all trapped in an endless cycle of omnipresent malaise — pining for "life rafts" at the slightest scent of success, even in the face of laughably insurmountable odds. Anna (Lister-Jones) works as an Uber driver, while her slacker husband Ben (Adam Pally) works from home in his boxers, designing logos for faceless companies he reviles. Even as the scrappy, doting duo grapples with failure and insecurities in typical cornball fashion, their frustrations finally come to a head when they decide to dish it out (literally) over some dirty plateware.
And much like any great relationship saga about failed artists (Anna wants to be a novelist, Ben wants to create something he actually cares about), things take a turn for the worst when the pair's shortcomings finally become too painful to overlook. They both know, deep down, that if they don't clean up their act and prove to friends and family that they have what it takes to be adults, then their marriage, dreams and livelihood may never fully recover. This painful realization shakes the couple from their infirmity and prompts an uncomfortable conversation riddled with typical husband and wife grievances — he won't clean the dishes, she won't perform oral sex, etc... — until their anger reaches a literal fever pitch, wherein Anna decides to vent her dissatisfaction and annoyance through song. It's a premise so clever, it boggles the mind Lister-Jones' proposition has never been tested elsewhere on film. But alas, she's claimed first rights, and by virtue of hiring a reportedly all-female crew, boy (no pun intended) does she deliver on its premise.
"Band Aid" unavoidably switches between some taut emotional gears, ping-ponging from severe hostility to upbeat catharsis, but it is the winning chemistry between leads Lister-Jones and Pally which lends the project's musical accompaniment such warmth and layered, believable insight. It also doesn't hurt that SNL and Portlandia star Fred Armisen steps in every now and then to alleviate some of the more emotional pangs, reserving some of the film's best one-liners for his extended laugh-a-minute cameo. Yet born out of the relatable kitchen squabbles, late night melees and post-coital bickering, every song (which are all so good I'd be remiss not to mention Lister-Jones and Co. actually released an EP on Spotify), personifies instantly identifiable relationship hurdles; hence the titles, "Love Is A Drip," "Mood," and "I Don't Want To Fuck You." Each tune is a unique blend of sardonic one-liners and good humor wrapped in genuine pathos, without edging on noticeably saccharine terrain. To say Lister-Jones is a triple threat alone would be a grave underestimation of her talents — she not only co-wrote the film's lyrics, she produced, wrote, directed and starred in what is a demonstrably arthouse refurbishing of Zoey Deschanel's now infamous "New Girl" oeuvre. With a post-modernist spin on Deschanel's affably sweet characterization, Lister-Jones has forged a new feminist film creed, one which eschews the male gaze with self-deprecating comedy, and challenges the very notion of the nagging, sex-restrictive girlfriend/ wife through astute thematic deconstruction.
Which by its very essence, isn't meant to imply "Band Aid" is all games and no fun. The more caustic the flare-ups, the more they're meant to burn like acid — occurring at rather intimate moments, which might potentially verge on therapeutic if they weren't so damn painful to watch. The acerbic barbs are traded like Civil War-era bayonets, flying across the bedroom as we the prepare ourselves for bitter, emotional PTSD. Just as things seem to be going well for Anna, everything inevitably falls apart, and the brutality inflicted on their relationship does not tread lightly — each dwindling flicker of happiness, whether it's the music, her newfound love for husband Ben, or sheer desire to get out of bed and deliver idiots to their destinations in L.A., Anna's inner voice fades like a chorus over a crumbling bridge, and the haunting realizations that constrain her ability to move forward leaves us all to wonder whether dreams are really worth pursuing, and whether they're worth pursuing with the ones we love. Whether in spite of them, or because of them.
"BAND AID" Not Rated. Running time: 1 hour 31 minutes.