After the death of her mother, Marla (Wendy McColm) does some digging through her Fuzzy Head in an attempt to uncover the truth. As she navigates what might be a dream, memories from her tragic past come back to haunt her. What happened to her mother and why?
Fuzzy Head is subtly guided by sound. Often in the background viewers hear something left of center, something that doesn’t necessarily fit into the particular scene in which it exists–but it plays into the film as a whole. We often hear these things, and while they might not initially register as something of importance, the role that they play in Fuzzy Head makes itself clear at some point. Through this interesting use of sound, Writer-Director McColm does a brilliant job of keeping viewers engaged and ensuring that they can’t look away.
I’m always interested in knowing how and/or why a writer or director makes the decision to go nude in their own film. Do they simply like the idea of being naked in front of others? Are they worried about tasking someone else with this? Regardless of the reason, however, the most important thing to consider is whether or not the nudity is warranted in the film. Instances of nudity exist from time to time throughout Fuzzy Head, and it’s McColm that stands front and center in these instances. Are these instances necessary in the film? Not necessarily, but what they do is help to make the film feel more organic. Viewers get a sense of realism in these moments; and regardless of the reasoning behind McColm providing herself the opportunity to go nude, it works in favor of Fuzzy Head ultimately finding success. Even better, the nudity is tactful–doing a great job of not oversexualizing Marla, but remaining rather even keeled throughout. Again, this plays into the idea of realism in an otherwise wacky film–and the balance created as a result of these scenes can’t be overlooked.
It’s important that Fuzzy Head remains dark and gritty throughout, that it really hits home the idea that Marla’s past is troubled and that the expiration of her mother is something that haunts her every move. Viewers are pulled into a film that aesthetically ensures that these ideas are understood, that viewers can truly understand the gravity of Marla’s situation every step of the way. Marla often sits before a dreary backdrop and within a grainy film as a whole–constantly doubling and tripling down on these ideas. Fuzzy Head refuses to relent in this regard, and time and time again, viewers feel the pressure of Marla’s precarious situation.
Fuzzy Head is a murder mystery, a psychological thriller, a comedy, and more neatly wrapped into one film that’s bursting at the seams. The film isn’t overflowing with too much content, however, but rather that it’s filled right to the brim–just as it should be. Every second of the production is full of content, and every bit of content possesses meaning for viewers to dissect. Fuzzy Head doesn’t miss an opportunity to thrive, even in its slowest moments–and as the film barrels forward, it develops deeper and deeper meaning.
This feels like a relatively low-budget production that relies heavily on the artistic and creative ability of McColm. She helms the director’s chair with a prowess that doesn’t allow for mistakes, but does allow for every second of Fuzzy Head to drip with potential. She’s the person for the job, the right person to lead a film that dives deep into the human psyche–and not a second passes in which she doesn’t make this film better–regardless of the position she holds at that moment.
Written & Directed by Wendy McColm.
Starring Alicia Witt, Wendy McColm, Fred Melamed, Richard Riehle, Jonathan Tolliver, Numa Perrier, etc.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐½/10
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