Starfish

After the loss of a loved one, nothing is ever the same. When Aubrey (Virginia Gardner, who also impressed in the recent Killer Party but here gets a more substantial role) loses her friend Grace (Christina Masterson) her world is turned upside down. She retreats to Grace's apartment to spend time among her things: a tortoise called Bellini whom she has clearly been introduced to before, assorted starfish and jellyfish in a well-kept aquarium, starfish-shaped fairy lights and ornaments. The dent in the pillow where Grace's head rested not long ago and will never rest again. There she tries calling her mother, makes a half-hearted attempt to watch television, and closes her eyes to disturbing dreams.

So far, so familiar - many an indie film has trodden the same path, albeit few of them as gracefully. Come the morning, though, things look very different. The snowy streets are deserted; palls of black smoke hang in the air. Then Aubrey sees people running. Stepping outside, she encounters something definitely not of this world, and all she can do is run for her life. A subsequent radio call, a strange signal and the discovery of a cassette labelled 'this mix tape will save the world' set the stage for a film as singular as it is surreal.

There are ideas around signalling and communication between dimensions that can be traced back to HG Wells, HP Lovecraft and Frank Belknap Long, if not before. They never end well. Recent takes have included Banshee Chapter, The Signal, The Endless and, more obliquely, Berberian Sound Studio and Pontypool, yet this remains an under-explored area of science fiction and one with tremendous potential. Starfish carves out its own space by intertwining this with the experience of grief and, indeed, it's possible to interpret the whole thing as Aubrey's hallucinatory response to loss, her attempt to make sense of the innately unreasonable business of death. Starfish imagery crops up throughout, reminding us of the strangeness of the world as we already know it. The variety of form represented by this small cluster of living things invites speculation about what else might be possible.

Wisely limiting our glimpses of alien things, director AT White keeps the focus on Aubrey's emotional response to what's happening around her. This will no doubt frustrate some viewers but Gardner is quite capable of holding the viewer's attention and Aubrey's conscious efforts to manage her emotional experience again reflect that journey through grief. Fernanda Guerrero's incredibly detailed production design contains layer upon layer of story in itself and enables us to feel Grace's presence as a character, as an influence Aubrey cannot escape. Grace had discovered something, says the voice on the radio. It's up to Aubrey to try and make sense of it. But can the voice be trusted?

Aubrey also has a legacy of guilt to deal with (and she'll have more if she doesn't keep taking poor Bellini outside in cold weather). Wearing a furry coat and animal hood, she takes on the character of a shaman, hinting at far older experiences of interaction with the uncanny. To whom does she owe allegiance? White keeps us guessing, keeps us rooting for her anyway, as pieces of a pattern are reassembled and, one way or another, things move toward their end.