Prime Time: The Horror At Gallery Kay (2018)

Love is funny, eh. Find the right partner for you and you can become a little bit less of what you used to be and a little bit more of what you want to be. Which is all well and good, especially as you become better for yourself while also appreciating your loved ones, but can easily take one turn towards something very damaging and dangerous. There's a difference between spending your first date desperately holding in that fart that has been grumbling to be let out since you arrived at your meeting point and holding in parts of your personality that you decided to hide in order to make yourself seem like a much better person than you think you are. And I am going to bring this review to a grinding halt just now just to remind anyone reading this not to do that. I may not be any kind of expert on relationships nowadays, but I've enjoyed years of increased happiness by simply being honest about who I am, the good and the bad. And do you know how worrying it is to say to anyone on a date "well, I watch about 15 movies a week, do a podcast, and blog daily"? But fuck it.

Back to The Horror At Gallery Kay, which happens to be all about love, really. And happens to be about how we change while in a relationship, and how there sometimes comes a point when you have to decide if you're happy with the changes, happy with where you are at, and happy with what the future may hold. Maine Anders and Rosebud play Petra and Olive, respectively, and the two of them are attending a counselling session with a counsellor named Bozill (Brian Silliman). Various issues come up for discussion, but the big item on the agenda seems to be whatever may have happened at a certain gallery.

The debut feature from director Abe Goldfarb, as well as the first film from writer Mac Rogers, The Horror At Gallery Kay feels both wary of the path it wants to go along, yet also incredibly confident in the way it relentlessly keeps going along. The direction may not be all that stylish, and the black and white cinematography isn't used in a way that really improves the visuals, but it's competent enough, and Goldfarb keeps the focus on things that matter, whether it is the strain between the central couple or the little details becoming harder to overlook on the way to an ending that is quite . . . out there, to say the least. Rogers has come up with in intriguing idea, and a very unique way of using certain genre (or maybe I should say sub-genre) trappings to explore what it can mean to a relationship when someone is slipping away as the other person feels just as strongly as they always have.

The big plus here are the leads. Both Anders and Rosebud are very good in their roles, batting the dialogue back and forth between themselves and Silliman (who does well in a role that often feels like him simply being present as a witness, rather than an active counsellor). There are a few others who appear onscreen, but it's Anders, Rosebud, and Silliman who are front and centre.

Unfortunately, despite the best intentions and good work of everyone involved, this didn't work for me as well as I wanted it to. People had recommended it, I was in the right mood to sit back and take it in, and I was rooting for it to win me over. It did a good job, for what it was setting out to do, but it just didn't ever turn into something that I would love, or unreservedly recommend to others.

I do, however, recommend it. It's a good film. I just don't think it's anything great.

6/10

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