IFFR 2021 - Feast
IFFRAs far as bizarre, immoral crimes go, Feast, from director Tim Leyendekker, looks to adapt one of topical and modern relevance. The Groningen HIV case did not need a dramatic reconstruction, but Feast offers just that. A pocket of recent history that few outside of its case will be all that aware of. Looking through the eyes of perpetrators, authorities, scientists and more, there is a feeling throughout Feast that seems to cling to documentary stylings without any real reason to do so. For this to work, Leyendekker must employ better alternatives to the futile efforts of fictional set pieces and whataboutisms that he presents here.
Filled with artificial characters that attempt to bring life to the real-world case, Feast cannot rely on the stubborn blandness of its performers and, therefore, must look elsewhere for that hook of interest. Leyendekker never quite finds what he is looking for, the result being poor dialogue that musters up enough courage to talk about sex, its impact, and nothing more. Characters that feel more like objects than they do actual people, they speak in monotone voices of their depressions and their ailments, and they speak with such bored tones. Fertility dominates early conversations, moving through to a documentary style toward the end that blends so many framing shots, narrative styles and aspect ratios that, inevitably, means Feast has no idea what it wants to be.
With no respect for pacing or conventional methods of keeping the entertainment or artistic value alive, Feast staggers around, starved of content, stretching its scenes to the limit in the hopes of eating up a running time that can barely keep itself together for the first act – let alone an entire film. Presented as some faux, distant documentary, there is no chance Feast can get into the mind of an audience without its odd blend of provocative and muted scenes. Fastidious it may be, Feast can never get the balance between adaptation and fiction right, and what follows is a piece of frustrating and ineffective scope.
Its unkempt arthouse approach keeps Feast from reaching the real core of its message. At times, Feast feels like an odd, distant documentary, while other times it shows intimacy and tries to touch upon the obvious emotions such a narrative can provide. Leyendekker has moments of interest, but can never quite capitalise on them in any way that feels productive for the narrative or important for the cast. Instead, there are brief moments of wonder that do nothing more than frustrate and underwhelm, even when there is a key and crucial story to be told. Scenes are either stretched to their limit or not simple enough to be short and sudden, and with such horribly poor pacing, it is hard to drag any sort of meaning out of Feast.