Enter scene: Brooklyn, summer 2020. Terry (John Early) is a pandemic rock star, practicing the masking advocacy he preaches even when indoors, especially when in the presence of his wild-card neighbor Coco (Rebecca F. Wright). Downstairs in Terry’s “party house”—the home actually belongs to Terry’s ex, Leo (John Roberts)—is his cousin Bahlul (Qaher Harhash), who’s laid up with an injury and passes time writing in a diary or smoking cigarettes with Coco. A frantic multitasker, Terry is on the phone with his friend Karla (Hammel) when he slips on the remnants of an uncooked chicken cutlet around 7 pm (How can we know the time? Because Terry had just ducked out the window to bang pots and pans, in tribute to the front-line medical workers.), and rendered immobile. Karla, in an impulsive act of chivalry—and stir craziness—springs into action, summoning an Uber to escort her crosstown.
An Unapologetic Steamroller
The rescue mission enables Karla to aid her friend Terry and feed her curiosity about the enigmatic Bahlul. There’s also the matter of Karla’s girlfriend Vanessa (Amy Zimmer), a writer who parlayed the details of her relationship with Karla—and the story of Karla’s gender transition – into a best-selling novel. Living in the Greenpoint apartment rent-free is some consolation for Karla, but as she explains, nothing is free. In the car on the way to Williamsburg, Karla speaks to the driver in the first of a series of comical misunderstandings about culture and geography, a running thread that almost overstays its welcome. A pleasant surprise is that most recurring jokes and the Covid humor in particular lands, effortlessly weaved into the story, and calling attention to itself only to allow the other characters comment on, or mock Terry’s insufferable safety warnings and Lysol-wiping.
Karla is an unstoppable force, a scene-stealer whose absence the film does struggle to overcome. That’s not to say Karla’s co-conspirators don’t have their moments. Terry fumbles around like a damsel seeking distress, eager to say or do the right thing (Brooklyn movie pun unintended) but he’s an easy target, thanks to know-it-all misfires (“Turkey isn’t in the Middle East.”) and inability to say no (Leo crashes Terry’s July 4th party, and takes over). Bahlul is harmless until he speaks his mind about Vanessa’s book or his own literary ambition, which explains the narrator volley, from Bahlul to Karla. Then, there are the true agents of chaos: Ronald (Ali), the put-upon delivery worker who blackmails Karla, and Leo, whose home invasion (“It’s still my house!”) turns their evening into a bacchanalia and concludes his own night at the hospital, an explosive coda which mirrors the delightful excess of “Magnolia” (1999).
Scoring a Theatrical Release
It’s tempting to connect the dots between a director and her influences, especially for a debut feature. (I mean, are Vanessa’s considerable curls not a spitting image of Susan Weinblatt’s hairdo?) Closing the ND/NF Festival, “Stress Positions” has already secured a theatrical release (opening in New York on April 14), and has the backing of Palme d’Or whisperer Neon. And while certain cinematic details might be callbacks to earlier work, Hammel’s film is a whole new beast, upending and avoiding simple categorization: the Covid comedy, the Brooklyn bildungsroman, the queer Millennial rom-com. For a title which implies submission, “Stress Positions” never does let up, doling out humor and scorn evenly, vaulting effortlessly from screwball hijinks to show-stopping action. Hammel, always on the attack, lands repeated knockout blows aimed directly at this lovable community of misfits, patriots and all those fellow lonely-hearts who suffered together and apart, in quarantine NYC.
The New Directors/New Films Festival runs from April 3rd – April 14th.
