‘Sweetness’ Review – Misery Meets MCR in Emma Higgins’ Bold Debut About Teen Angst and Obsessive Fandom

UPDATE: This review was written after we screened this film at the 2025 Fantasia Film Festival. We really like this movie, but it’s best enjoyed with a crowd and some friends! So go support this one if its playing in a theater near you! Writer/director Emma Higgins introduced her debut film, Sweetness, at the Fantasia International Film Festival by saying it was for “girls who shop at Hot Topic, wear too much eyeliner, coloured hair, people on SSRIs, the emos, for Gerard Way of My Chemical Romance—it’s for anyone who has ever loved a musician or had a broken heart or [felt] unrequited love. It’s for the horror fans and it’s for Canadians.” It’s the perfect intro to this gem of a psychological thriller, which I adored. I really hope this movie takes off, and I look forward to seeing it get a theatrical release, so more people get a chance to see it. It’s a great sign of the current state of Canadian filmmaking! Made with an all-Canadian cast, crew, and production, the movie was shot in North Bay, Ontario and is set in a fictional small town in Ontario, to boot. I make such a point of this because it’s refreshing to see a movie set and made in Canada that feels this high-calibre. Obviously, there are homegrown cult classic gems like Ginger Snaps (which feels like an influence here, to some degree), but this gives me some hope for the future of the Canadian film industry. This thing is slick, well-shot, cleverly written, and well-paced, with an excellent cast and great balance of tone. The Fantasia crowd was eating it up too, hooting and hollering at the film’s twists and turns, which only enhanced the experience of seeing it on a big screen. Sweetness follows Rylee (Kate Hallett), a lonely sixteen-year-old girl who’s bullied at school, is grieving her mother, and has a fraught relationship with her emotionally stunted cop dad (Justin Chatwin) and his new girlfriend (Amanda Brugel). Her only source of solace amidst all of that turmoil comes from the songs of her favourite band, Floorplan, led by a Gerard Way-esque pop star named Payton Adler (Herman Tømmeraas), whose lyrics suggest he may be the only person in the world who truly understands Rylee’s angst. What starts as a simple story about teenage obsession slowly devolves into cringe-inducing sickly sweet delusion after a chance post-concert encounter leads Rylee to discover that Payton is a dysfunctional drug addict, pushing her to take it upon herself to fix him. I’m a sucker for stories about desperate people who get themselves into a hole and inevitably end up digging themselves deeper and deeper. Every time I wondered if the movie would go there—it did, and each time, I got more and more on board. Sweetness was the first film at this year’s Fantasia that really got its hooks in me and had me feeling elated walking out of the theatre after. One of its big strengths is that it knows exactly what it is and delivers on the promise of its premise without overstaying its welcome. That largely comes down to the tight script and balancing act performance from Kate Hallett. Despite what very easily could have tipped over into an unbelievable or hard-to-swallow premise, the film never broke my suspension of disbelief. And every time it upped the ante, I bought in further, which is a difficult thing to pull off. Visually, the movie is also incredibly self-assured, especially for a debut feature on a relatively small budget. It just has a ton of style, from the poster design to the title font to the score and original songs by Blitz//Berlin, which have just the right amount of pop cringe. It all feels polished and adds to the style and tone of the movie. But the real star here, as mentioned, is Hallett as Rylee. The character is a tough one to pull off, because Rylee has to be sympathetic and easy to root for, while descending into more and more questionable moral territory as the movie progresses. In the Q&A after the screening, Higgins said she wrote the character as the heroine of the story—because she is. Rylee believes wholeheartedly that she’s in the right every step of the way. And the only way a story like this works is if the script is on her side. We, as an audience, may or may not be, but Rylee is the protagonist and the heroine and the driving force. As Higgins elaborated, it’s the plot that’s in opposition to her. Rylee’s the hero of her own story, even though her actions may be less-than-heroic when taken in a broader context. As wild as the film gets, it’s rooted in the emotional truth of being a teenage girl. A lot of teenage girldom is often dark and difficult and lonely and crazy-making. By tapping into those emotions, we can always at least understand what’s motivating Rylee, even if we can’t necessarily condone the outcome. It’s that tension that the movie holds in perfect balance. In lesser hands, the character could easily have fallen flat and brought the whole movie down with her. It’s to the film’s credit that it always treats Rylee as a sympathetic character. She may be an emotional, delusional, grieving, obsessive teenage girl, but the film takes her seriously, which makes us as an audience take her seriously and see her as more than one-dimensional. That’s not to say the movie takes itself too seriously. Part of why it works so well is that it doesn’t and has a very dark sense of humour about its subject matter. The film consistently delivers laughs, thrills, chills, sweetness, and violence, making a perfectly balanced cocktail for a good time at the movies. Verdict Sweetness gets a strong recommend from me. This psychological thriller gem has an excellent handle on tone and style, with great performances and an awesome script from writer/director Emma Higgins. It’s a modern-day

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‘Together’ Review – Alison Brie and Dave Franco Stick Together in this Darkly Funny Romantic Horror

Have you ever felt like you were losing yourself in a relationship? Writer and director Michael Shanks takes that fear and turns it into the central horror of his debut feature Together. Tim and Millie (played by real-life spouses Dave Franco and Alison Brie) have been together for a decade when they uproot their life in the city to move into a big beautiful home in the countryside. Millie is a schoolteacher and Tim is an aspiring musician, but he’s unsure of his place in the world and in his relationship. When we meet the couple, he seems to have lost his sense of individuality (tellingly, at their goodbye party with friends, Millie points out how cute it is that they inadvertently wore matching outfits—we cut to Tim changing his shirt). He doesn’t really know who he is outside of his relationship, and he’s chafing against that—he loves Millie but feels trapped. When the pair encounters a supernatural force in the vicinity of their new home, it puts the limits of their relationship to the test. The marketing of this movie gives a lot of its premise away, but I want to stress that it works best if you go into this one knowing as little as possible. What I can say is that this is a very strong directorial debut from Shanks. It’s marketed primarily as a horror film, but it’s also a very funny and very romantic movie at heart. It does a remarkable job of weaving those different threads together and balancing its different tones. There are consistent laughs, but also very effective scares, creepy moments, and body horror, not to mention a genuinely romantic core. Brie and Franco bring their real-life chemistry to the screen to make the film’s central relationship feel lived in and make us want to root for them, despite the obstacles and struggles they face. A recurring motif in the film is the idea of being oblivious to something rotting right under your nose, like a dead rat rotting away behind a light fixture. The rot creeps in so gradually that you don’t even know you’re breathing it in. At first, Tim and Millie’s relationship seems to have gone the way of the rat. They’ve clearly lost touch (ha!) with one another, and we wonder if the relationship has simply gone stale after all that time, even if they’re still in the room, breathing in the stink. But by the end, it’s clear that Shanks has a more hopeful, if twisted, view of love and relationships. The movie walks a fine line between exposing the flaws of its central relationship and asserting that they’re still right to fight for it anyway. One of my favourite things about horror as a genre is its ability to take grounded human experiences and emotions and amplify them through metaphor. This film takes the fear of commitment and of sharing your life with someone and amplifies it to its logical extreme as a metaphor, raising questions about what it actually means to build a life together and make compromises and become one half of a unit that is a couple. On top of the great tonal balance and central performances, the visual effects are, for the most part, phenomenal, with a perfect marriage (ha!) of practical and digital effects, aside from one pivotal moment that doesn’t quite land. Beyond that, the body horror is visceral and effective with just the right amount of restraint. The movie is a little heavy-handed at times, telegraphing certain reveals a little too much. But I really loved a lot of what it’s doing and had such a fun time with it at Fantasia, where the unparalleled crowd experience really made this a blast to watch. Verdict Together is the perfect horror rom-com for anyone who’s ever felt trapped, co-dependent, or lost in a relationship. But it’s also for the hopeless romantics and horror fans. It’s a remarkably well-balanced mix of genres and tones, anchored by the lived-in chemistry of its leads.

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