Editor’s Note: This was originally published for FANGORIA on March 6, 2007, and we’re proud to share it as part of The Gingold Files.
There are two ways to watch Sublime, the second in Warner Home Video’s Raw Feed line of original horror features and an improvement on the debut entry, Rest Stop. You can view it cold, and take it at face value as the story of George Grieves (Tom Cavanagh), a normal, just-turned-40 family man who goes in for a routine colonoscopy and wakes up from anesthesia to find himself in a hospital of horrors, where he undergoes a series of increasingly surreal and unpleasant experiences. Or you can take a look at the DVD’s interview section first (save the audio commentary for later, of course), and see the movie with the foreknowledge that George is named after our current president, that he’s meant as a stand-in for our country and that the strange events and characters that plague him represent sociopolitical issues currently troubling America (for which the movie “grieves”).
Clearly, first-time feature director Tony Krantz and screenwriter Erik Jendresen (Band of Brothers) are intellectually aiming far higher than many low-budget fright filmmakers, and there’s a patina of Artistry to Sublime that you don’t find too often in the direct-to-DVD world. Teamed with cinematographer Dermott Downs, Krantz demonstrates a knack for eerie imagery and composition (with the disc’s 2.35:1 transfer looking quite spiffy, accompanied by creepy 5.1 Surround audio) as George’s situation goes from bad to worse, playing off relatable fears of what could go wrong at a medical facility. Cavanagh, previously best known for comedic roles like the lead in TV’s Ed, has an everyman likability that makes him consistently sympathetic, and helps carry the audience along wondering exactly what’s happening to him and why. Krantz has served in the past as both an agent and producer for David Lynch, and the influence shows—as does that of a previous feature that won’t be mentioned here, as it would give away an ending that eventually becomes fairly predictable anyway.
But the longer the movie goes on (and at 113 minutes, it is long for this sort of film), the more it becomes clear that its creators have put Meaning first and narrative consistency second. In a movie where everything and everyone stands for something else, their metaphorical significance has clearly taken precedence over assuring they make sense in the context of the central story. For example, using Henry Fuseli’s famous painting The Nightmare to foreshadow a couple of key setpieces is a nice visual gambit—but is it believable that an ordinary couple like George and his wife Jenny (Kathleen York) would hang this particular piece of art in their bathroom? Later, when George—who hasn’t shown a racist bone in his body in previous scenes—is threatened and mutilated by an African-American hospital worker named Mandingo (Lawrence Hilton-Jacobs) who literally embodies white fears and bigoted attitudes toward blacks, one has to wonder if those attitudes are being examined or simply exploited. There’s more than a hint of a conservative streak expressed by the filmmakers through George’s concerns as reflected by the scenarios he’s confronted with—such as the moment he sees his teen daughter (Shanna Collins) kissing another girl.
It’s likely that a good deal of the symbolism will be lost on casual viewers of Sublime, but it’s all explained in detail in the commentary by Krantz and Jendresen. How you respond to it will depend on how seriously you can take the director’s statement that a shot of Dr. Sharazi (Cas Anvar) holding George’s colonoscopy tube is designed to “play the political significance of this Iranian doctor sticking a thing up the rear end of the United States of America.” (Some might find that just as amusing as Dr. Sharazi’s entrance line, “Welcome to the Outback Snakehouse!”) By the end, even Jendresen seems to think all the political analysis is a bit much (“Are you planning on running for office?” he gently chides Krantz), and for listeners who agree, those observations are balanced by a healthy amount of production info, plus effusive praise of the cast.
In addition to a complete look at the “surgical exorcism” video glimpsed on a character’s computer (which allows for greater emphasis on the Exorcist-like aspects), the DVD is rounded out by that Krantz interview and one with Jendresen. These repeat several points from the commentary, but also allow the duo to expound further on how the movie deals with the subject of fear and how this and other themes are expressed through the characters. In both onscreen chats, a couple of faux pas are left in (Krantz asked to repeat his response to a question, Jendresen’s microphone being readjusted), and given the nature of this project, it’s tempting to ask: Is this intended to reflect how such sessions are manipulated, and thus comment on the unreliability of videotaped discourse and mass media in this country in general—or just the result of a lazy editor?
