Not a sob story, but an interesting contemporary take on the Celtic legend of the banshee, Cry weds an original premise to solid storytelling in the true indie spirit of filmmaking. Are there a lot of films dealing with banshees? I’m not sure. There’s the forgettable Vincent Price vehicle Cry of the Banshee whose plot details I’m a bit hazy on (see, I told you it was forgettable). But whereas that movie was period cheese of the lowest (highest?) order, the filmmakers behind Cry seem to feel their material deeply—and at times this sensibility is, sadly, at odds with the limitations of micro-budget video, whose hallmarks are evident from square one.

That’s not to say that the production values or filmmaking itself feels slipshod—far from it. Very far from it. Director Scott Klein and his crew show ingenuity and resourcefulness throughout, but one senses that their reach consistently exceeds their grasp, a “fault” of many young artists… but also, clearly, a trait that makes them worthy of being called artists in the first place.

Indeed, one cannot help but applaud Klein’s desire to amplify the story beyond the clichés of the horror-thriller genre, by developing characters and situations to their fullest, but the truth is that the film is still a tad too long. That’s not to say that the content and characters don’t deserve a feature-length treatment, but rather that the pacing can be a bit too leisurely at times, even for the carefully crafted, character-driven drama that’s presented. In fact, I often felt while watching it that Cry’s central storyline might be better served as a comics periodical (like the one featured in the story) or even a limited manga series. There’s a richness to the various backstories and an attention to story details that one doesn’t find even in studio horror releases.

For these reasons, I’ll venture that for the mainstream indie film crowd (if that’s not an oxymoron), this excursion into creepy territory may be just the kind of thoughtful, non-threatening exercise they’re looking for in genre titles. The horror indie crowd, I think, would demand more in the way of the visceral—and I don’t mean necessarily in terms of blood and guts, but rather a rawness of emotions or a psychology that's genuinely disturbing.

Yes, such moments do occur in the film, especially in the late-going, but not with the frequency that horror audiences typically demand. Many of the ghostly sequences are interesting, even intriguing, but they’re rarely full-on scary.

On the other hand, to argue against myself, the investment in the characters rather than shocks pays off because by the third act one really does want to find out what happens to Kara and her roommate-brother, Michael. Much of this emotional investment can be attributed to lead Colleen Conroy, who’s a real standout here. I’m not sure what else is on her resume, but one can easily see her becoming an accomplished actor on stage or TV, not just in film. Her line readings really take the dialogue and make it her own. I also enjoyed Joey Klein’s performance as he gamely takes on a weirdo role and plays it both convincingly and straight, with just enough understatement to keep me guessing about his character.

Speaking of dialogue, on a scene-by-scene, line-by-line basis the script can be quite strong. You believe the world of Kara’s magazine editor, for instance, the dialogue ringing authentic and true, as if informed by a lot of real-life experience. In fact, the strength of the dialogue reminded me of a stage play, particularly given that there are a few articulate characters who are given to lengthy speeches. On the stage, in the spotlight, the play of the language and ideas might be entrancing, not just intelligent, but here the effect is one more element that slows down the plot to a slow simmer. Similarly, Klein’s tendency to use two-shots in a fairly long takes is a nice showcase for the acting, but also gives a heavier feel to the proceedings than they deserve; but again, even that might work if it were not for the barebones interiors. Often when the characters are talking there’s too much time to notice that the backgrounds are drab to the point of being sterile. For scene after scene we’re treated to blank walls, with nary a framed poster in sight even though much of the action takes place in the home of two young, interesting and engaged people, one of whom also happens to be a photographer. Of course this austere visual aesthetic might be intentional, but it doesn’t quite work with the video lighting and lack of color saturation, instead giving the impression that there wasn’t much time in the production schedule to prep the locations.

Still, at some point such observations become nitpicks. Overall, there is much to admire here. Now I just wish someone would give Klein and Company a few million bucks so we could see what they’re really capable of.
CRY - Trailer #1