In recent times, our connection to nature seems severed. We’re tapped into screens all day, every day, isolated from the outside world. It’s no wonder one of the most popular insults online is “go touch some grass.” Film can often reignite the desire to experience the world around you, and Peter Collins Campbell’s DimLand reignites that desire while exploring the melancholy of our disconnect from the world. We’ve become solipsistic; DimLand explores that solipsism and fights back against it, delivering a film that is all at once somber but comforting, miserable but joyful, gray but full of life.
Brynn (Martha Brown) and her boyfriend Laika (Odinaka Malachi Ezeokoli) awaken in their cramped apartment, sick and drowsy. After seeing the family cabin she used to visit in her childhood on Instagram, Brynn decides she and Laika should go there on a vacation. When they arrive, the cabin is changed, remodeled in a more modern fashion for future renters. In this, Brynn loses a piece of her childhood but regains one she had long forgotten: Rue (Nate Wise), a shy masked being from another plane of this existence.
Both Brown and Ezeokoli give great, muted performances. Despite Brynn and Laika being relatively quiet people, when their rudeness crosses the line, Brown and Ezeokoli play up their frustrations, complicating the audience’s perspective. In a more generic film, Brynn would be the sympathetic character, as she trusts Rue and treats him kindly while Laika is disturbed by the creature. Here, Brynn has her moments of brash meanness; Laika has his moments of contemplation, keeping himself down to earth. Both actors match the energy of the film perfectly.
Wise’s performance as Rue is just as comforting as it is frightening. Wise’s voice sounds damaged, a high-pitched whimper that keeps the audience engaged; simultaneously, he keeps his movements sparse and his glances are long, making the character induce anxiety as much as comfort. Rue represents the film’s own held contradictions, with Wise’s performance lending a certain unease to the whole ordeal. Rue raises as many questions as he answers, offers specificity as much as vagueness. Maybe it’s a film that says a whole lot of nothing, or maybe it’s a genius meditation on life, family, and memory. The film is more content wading into the mysteries of life than diving in headfirst with exposition and explanations.
Peter Collins Campbell’s writing and direction are splendid; critically acclaimed indie dramas are absolutely in his future. In a mere 75-minute runtime, Campbell creates an entirely unique, melancholic feeling for the film. Entering Rue’s plane of existence, a dark world that mirrors the woodlands Brynn and Laika are vacationing in feels safe. Every time Brynn sneaks out in the middle of the night to visit Rue, rediscovering the trees and rivers she loved as a child, it elicits the same feeling of a sensory deprivation tank, in an endless calm, floating aimlessly in serene peace. To some, this may be boring. After all, DimLand is sold as an indie drama and not a heart-racing or reality warping flick; however, Campbell’s film maintains a steady pace, never feeling outright mundane or disinterested.
The special effects that create Rue’s world are especially engaging, a world shrouded in shadows but illuminated by the smallest lights. In this world, Brynn feels a profound connection to everything around her. Born out of nostalgia, Brynn’s connection is palpable, the loneliness of the outside world distant as she explores nature once again. We could all use some time reconnecting with the planet, after all. DimLand captures the fear of that reconnection, the anxiety that comes with going back to what you had forgotten. It also captures the comfort in rediscovering your peace, your emotions that feel so easy to slip back into. Campbell captures a delicate balance between modern life and nature, fear and relief, conflict and peace. DimLand is all about the contradictions that make up the world and how the quietest expressions often represent the loudest emotions.
