Thrilling, powerful and sinister are the three adjectives that most perfectly define the experience of interacting with I'm Still Here. The film takes us into the very uncertain, and therefore, doubly horrifying reality of a woman called Maggie who is hiding in a basement while waiting for her parents to come back. The latter had ventured out in search of supplies seven days ago and have not been heard from since.
In the process, the film invokes the deeply disconcerting situations of emotional isolation, along with a physical kind, allowing it to be a more hard-hitting story in a world that is only beginning to get back on its feet from the lonesome existence of a pandemic. The physical threat is never truly revealed to the viewer, thereby allowing it to invoke fear of a distinctive visceral kind, individual to each mind, one heightened by concealing more than what the story reveals. However, in addition to this, it is the oppressive internal, emotional threat that truly captures the viewer's attention and ensures they are unable to look away even in the face of something potentially fatal awaiting the protagonist.
There is further much to be said about the expert and sophisticated manner in which sound is employed to conjure the world Maggie inhabits. Markedly, it is indeed another woman's voice on a walkie-talkie, Emory, that allows decisive and crucial forward movement of the plot. As the two women find themselves a space of companionship, solidarity, and hence, much-needed strength during a moment of paralyzing panic, the film conveys all of its intentions in a notably effortless manner. Moreover, it would indeed be quite something to see the short film as a longer project.
Read LessIn the process, the film invokes the deeply disconcerting situations of emotional isolation, along with a physical kind, allowing it to be a more hard-hitting story in a world that is only beginning to get back on its feet from the lonesome existence of a pandemic. The physical threat is never truly revealed to the viewer, thereby allowing it to invoke fear of a distinctive visceral kind, individual to each mind, one heightened by concealing more than what the story reveals. However, in addition to this, it is the oppressive internal, emotional threat that truly captures the viewer's attention and ensures they are unable to look away even in the face of something potentially fatal awaiting the protagonist.
There is further much to be said about the expert and sophisticated manner in which sound is employed to conjure the world Maggie inhabits. Markedly, it is indeed another woman's voice on a walkie-talkie, Emory, that allows decisive and crucial forward movement of the plot. As the two women find themselves a space of companionship, solidarity, and hence, much-needed strength during a moment of paralyzing panic, the film conveys all of its intentions in a notably effortless manner. Moreover, it would indeed be quite something to see the short film as a longer project.
The birth of 'I'm Still Here' was very utilitarian; from the moment I first saw the wonderfully evocative basement location, I knew I wanted to interpret that space cinematically. As a filmmaker, you're always looking for interesting things in your toolbox, and the basement was a location I had unfettered access to. From that point, it simply became a question of "what kind of story can I tell in this space?". And the rest was history, as they say.
I've always been a huge sucker for genre storytelling, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to really lean into that impulse. The location seemed to demand a story where things are heard, but seldom seen, and the alien invasion genre was never far behind. What I've only realized in hindsight is not only was 'I'm Still Here' my love letter to the wonderful white-knuckle thrillers of a bygone era of movies, but was also my veiled attempt at processing the collective trauma of the pandemic.
I've always been a huge sucker for genre storytelling, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to really lean into that impulse. The location seemed to demand a story where things are heard, but seldom seen, and the alien invasion genre was never far behind. What I've only realized in hindsight is not only was 'I'm Still Here' my love letter to the wonderful white-knuckle thrillers of a bygone era of movies, but was also my veiled attempt at processing the collective trauma of the pandemic.
Justin SuttlesDirector, I'm Still Here
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