We have a duty to look after ourselves, no matter our lots in life. It’s an uphill battle with bureaucratic red tape, and it’s easy to disregard it as a time-consuming nuisance. But, we owe it to us and our loved ones to seek out self-care. Without it our support systems fall apart, and our networks broadcast nothing but radio silence. Lost Transmissions, Katharine O’Brien’s latest film, documents the side effects our friendships can suffer when our mental health is ignored. Unfortunately, it gets drowned out by its own uncertain static.
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Under inebriated revelry is how Hannah and Theo’s paths first cross (played by Juno Temple and Simon Pegg, respectively). Hannah, a call center attendant with quiet musical aspirations, and Theo, a rock-star-turned-producer, bond as they plunk out a duet on the party host’s piano. They take a mutual interest in each other – Theo in Hannah’s hidden talent that he’s determined to bring to the surface, and Hannah in Theo’s erratic but friendly eccentricities – and from there a deep friendship grows. Theo produces Hannah’s first professional EP, which gets her a lead writing gig for pop star Dana Lee (Alexandra Daddario). But underneath Theo and Hannah’s friendship, a discomforting reality bubbles. Theo attempts to convince Hannah to stop taking her antidepressants, hoping it will unleash her musical potential. Then, he starts acting strange: a lack of focus, distemper, and recklessness far beyond the level of care-free goofiness. There’s also paranoia – particularly concerning the existence of interdimensional communications, and society preventing him from uniting with the Princess of Time. Hannah quickly realizes that Theo has schizophrenia and has stopped taking his medication. What’s more is that this isn’t his first relapse, and Theo’s friends — from his former manager (Jamie Harris) to his longtime friend (Rachel Hazlewood) – are less reluctant to help him this time around. As Theo’s safety net frays, Hannah becomes the lone protector to tail him around Los Angeles and keep him safe. If anything, Lost Transmissions is a sobering metaphor for America’s approach to mental health. Either through society’s willful ignorance or their culpability in systemic suppression, Theo and Hannah’s struggles are rendered virtually invisible. Dana Lee has no empathy for Hannah’s distress; doctors filter Theo through their facilities at breakneck speed; no one sees Hannah chasing a disheveled Theo through the Hollywood Hills at night (even someone in their underwear by a wide-open bedroom window doesn’t notice the frazzled couple run past). That is, of course, besides the police, who only view Theo as a threat. Even as the couple flits along the outskirts of fame, they are only granted so much sympathy from everyone else. It’s through this sense of forced normalcy that O’Brien hammers home two complimentary truths: mental illness does not discriminate based on class, and regardless it never was or is an enviable condition. The washed-out, naturally-lit camerawork reinforces this sense of commonplace, as does O’Brien’s straightforward approach that generally omits hyperbolic thrills. The two lead performances also bolster the film, with Temple silently managing Hannah’s slowly-boiling anxiety and Pegg fantastically committing to Theo’s tormented alienation. On occasion, particularly during narrative lulls, Lost Transmissions dips into a stylistic ambience that is welcome but too short-lived. This results in an uneven effect that’s too underpowered to carry much weight. The camerawork also leaves something to be desired, too, especially its shodddy sense of framing. (While that’s arguably a personification of Theo’s shattered attention span, it’s more so a distraction from the story at-hand.) And the grasps at the shallowness of the entertainment industry themselves feel, ironically, a bit shallow, and somewhat out-of-place against the rest of the film’s thematic backdrop. But what really taints Lost Transmissions is its flirtation with the philosophy of un-medicating oneself for artistic growth. It’s evident that stopping medication a dangerous precipice, but the film’s winking suggestions to the contrary really muddles the message. When he’s off his meds Theo goes on distempered rages…but he sure can mix a song well! Hannah, who initially balks at discarding her antidepressants, decides to stop taking them at a most inopportune moment. It’s all a tangent of the “suffer for your art” ideology, which by now is a trope that’s dangerously rote. Ultimately, this is a story about how two flawed adults don’t take their mental health seriously and hurt themselves and others as a result. But at a time when a society that already stigmatizes anxiety and depression continues to have reportedly high levels them both, Lost Transmissions feels like a somewhat sloppy address of the issue. It makes us question O’Brien’s overall goal, and if this real life-inspired narrative is meant to inspire change or simply act as a tourist-like view of tragedy. Lost Transmissions filters mental illness through the callousness of a society both obsessed with and perturbed by fame. It scrutinizes the apathetic void in which the most vulnerable among us are abandoned and indicts its very existence. It’s a shame that it takes that apathy to heart, leaving us with something too dissonant to cause a lasting sting. Rating: 5/10 Leave your thoughts on this Lost Transmissions review and the film below in the comments section. Readers seeking to support this type of content can visit our Patreon Page and become one of FilmBook’s patrons. Readers seeking more film reviews can visit our Movie Review Page and our Movie Review Pinterest Page. Want up-to-the-minute notifications? FilmBook staff members publish articles by Email, Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, Pinterest, and Flipboard.
