The Swerve’s protagonist, Holly (Azura Skye), is a frail, under-appreciated mother to two thankless sons and wife to a self-absorbed husband. She spends her days teaching English to disinterested teenagers. Her family considers her to be a punching bag—the butt of an everlasting joke. When the film picks up on her story, she is on the verge of emotional collapse. Holly seems disillusioned with the way her life has turned out, but is doing her best to maintain appearances. She is so very tired, but attempting to persevere.
One night, Holly’s highly intoxicated husband, Rob (Bryce Pinkham), comes stumbling home from a work party. He finds Holly in their room and begins kissing her, ignoring her soft protests. Holly half-participates but distractedly turns her head away every few seconds, undoubtedly distressed over the most recent series of unfortunate events she’s been slogging through. Oblivious to her lack of enthusiasm, Rob buries his head into the crook of her neck and begins to have sex with Holly. She does not put up a fight, instead choosing to gaze straight ahead at the ceiling. Growing increasingly overcome with sorrow as each moment passes, Holly tearfully wonders aloud, “Is it always gonna be like this? Is it?” Without stopping or looking up, Rob simply replies, “Yes.” At this confirmation, Holly sobs silently and continues staring at the ceiling. The camera does not cut away.
Director Dean Kapsalis’s feature-length debut The Swerve is a melancholic character study which sees Holly struggle to navigate her own mind as she copes with both trauma and the mundane. Her near-constant stress levels cause sleeplessness, for which she takes sleeping pills that cause blackouts. During one such blackout, Holly makes a horrible mistake and isn’t quite sure whether her memories of the event were real or some sort of nightmare. This is the catalyst for Holly’s breakdown, which we witness for the 95 minutes we are in Kapsalis’s clutches.
The Swerve is a deep dive into the psyche of a person trying, against all odds, to hold it together. The film explores the confines of repression and guilt with devastating honesty. Some audiences may find the film disturbing or hard to watch, not because it’s overly-vulgar or bloody, but because the characters feel so real and mean or, in the case of Holly, utterly helpless. This is not a feel-good story about redemption after trials and tribulations. Kapsalis is not interested in making sure the audience is comfortable. The result is a disorienting ride to the depths of despair from which, much like a car crash, you won’t be able to look away.
Azura Skye is a standout as Holly, playing the role with unflinching candor. She manages to capture all the nuances of depression without being over-the-top or otherwise appearing stereotypically unhinged. Skye gives life and complexity to a character who could have easily appeared dull and irritating. She manages to reflect the feeling of repression on her face and in her body language with ease. Skye’s deft handling of the script allows her to portray Holly as someone who is constantly trying to restrain her discomfort in order to appease others, and simultaneously attempting to keep her internal rage from bubbling up to her rigid surface. By the end of the film, we as viewers don’t know whether we want to hug Holly or shake her, but what we do know is that Skye drew us in and held us there for the entire runtime.
The Swerve is a cinematic experience that plays like a strange dream, the kind where the uncanniness seems to cause irrational fear. It toys with the audience’s moral compass and dares us to re-evaluate what we think we’ve just seen once it’s all over. The film makes the quiet of suburbia suddenly loud and overwhelming, allowing us to better understand Holly’s dissatisfaction with the state of her life.
The final minutes of The Swerve will leave you breathless. While most of the film feels muted, reflecting our protagonist’s restraint, it’s in the final moments that the dial is turned to 11 and all hell breaks loose. The stark contrast between the gloominess of the first 75 minutes and the panic of the last 20 minutes is a welcome, if grotesque, shock to the system.
Somehow both beautiful and repulsive, Kapsalis’s film firmly embeds itself in your mind and is sure to linger long after it’s over. The Swerve is a refreshingly bold thriller that shouldn’t be missed.
