All I can say is that it’s amazing to be able to take a unique, untold story and make it something that the audience can connect with. If you have story worth telling, you should tell it. If you have passion for something, then it’s worth all the hard work. But before starting a project, you have to consider if you are ready to put everything into it.
The compelling and emotional teaser is eloquently cut and scripted. “Come from somewhere nice?” asks a London cabbie, while Ava is silent, wracked with angst. This film is not about tourism.
For much of the film’s short duration, we see Jasper zipping through the city streets on her bike, eyes staring directly forward with a sharp gaze that is intermittingly interrupted by the harsh voice of her dispatcher. Most of the time, we see Jasper’s body hunching forward, pushing herself ahead as she moves through the cars and pedestrians in her way.
Why so many become enraptured about lesbian sex on screen is already asked and answered: it sells. It is a well-known male fantasy, but as far as a female fantasy, this depends on how the scenes are shot. Maroh has already addressed the problems. The nearly 10-minute sex scene is considered “long” by both standards, and the primary selling point of the film.
As a storyteller, Stacie Passon wastes no time and rather than explaining everything in dialogue, her picture language is both economical and meaningful. The interior sets of the family home have a hygienically sealed cleanliness and smoothness.
Abby’s either on her way out or on her way back in or she will continue hooking and all of the choices will be fine, but I think the central question of the film is, “ I belong to only you but you don't want me,” and that is where the film ends for me—that is the resolution and acknowledgment of the question in 93 minutes.