I’m at your door
New-Gothic New York where the noir-esque alleyways and underbelly become nothing more than a figment of the thorny vines that strangle every last breath of romanticism. Dracula’s Castle becomes an abstraction, where packs and packs of bats descend onto the flesh and Dracula himself bares his fangs at other vampires as he wanders about in the tremble of urban structures.
Where Nosferatu and Dracula establishes a dichotomy between the Other and the Self, Ferrera erases this boundary where the typical image of goodness is displaced and cruelty becomes conflated with virtue. There only remains the guns, the smoke, the mist. New York.
Its a meditation on trauma.
We never see the bus jacking. We don’t know the mans motives for doing such a heinous crime. We only see it’s devastating psychological impacts on 3 damaged survivors. This is not a story about victims, this is the story of moving on. This is a story of recovery. This is the story of human triumph over darkness.
As equally bleak as it is hopeful, it’s generally a tragedy but it never feels overtly…