October Moth

John Kruse’s independently produced October Moth is a tiny film with a tiny budget, practically a two-character stage play performed in the dark, yet it explodes with epic force. Combining elements of psychological thriller, Gothic melodrama, and even horror, the film stars Lee Patterson as Finlay, a mentally deranged young man prone to delusion, paranoia, and acts of violence; his sister Molly (Lana Morris) has been his sole caretaker since their parents died and left them the little farmhouse on the moors of Yorkshire. When Finlay extracts an unconscious victim from a car accident, carries her home, and puts her to bed, it’s because he’s convinced that his mother returned home (“She was washing dishes,” he explains). If that weren’t bad enough, he soon becomes equally convinced that his father is back, hiding somewhere on the farm, and must be killed. Even Molly is threatened by her brother at gunpoint and unable to seek help. Punctuated with moments of suspense (there’s a sudden shock toward the end that will jolt you), the film offers up a bounty of chiaroscuro compositions that rival some of noir’s visual masterpieces (think The Night of the Hunter, 1955): a local man escapes over a moonlit hilltop in the distance, a blaze in the street forces a car to veer off a cliff.  Set entirely at night, owls hoot, woodwinds groan, and a storm rages outside for much of the film.