TORONTO LIFT-OFF FILM FESTIVAL 2021:
Craig (Josh Brekhus) is thirty, single, and behind on rent. So, when his two landladies, Suzi (Rachel Sondag) and Gwen (Myesha Gosselin) call him upstairs to talk, he is certain he knows what the conversation will be about. To his dismay (and his relief?) Craig isn’t being summoned for his money, but rather for his Sperm. The landlady couple upstairs wants a baby, and Craig is their choice for a donor. Does he have what it takes to grant their request, or is the whole thing a bit too much for him to handle?
We’re all on a journey called life, but that journey for each and every one of us is immensely different. No one fully understands what the people around them are going through, and it’s important to realize this early in life, or that aforementioned journey will become far more difficult than it needs to be. Sperm captures this idea, and it projects a series of uncomfortable, but somewhat familiar feelings onto its viewers. As Craig plays out all of the possibilities of Suzi and Gwen’s request, he comes to the realization that he is lesser than he had hoped, sadly, a feeling that nearly everyone faces from time to time. Sure, Sperm is a comedy about the awkward conversation between prospective parents and the potential donor, but it manages to capture genuine human emotion throughout its entirety.
The slightly exaggerated nature of the acting simply supports the fact that the writer (Brekhus) and director, Kirsten Kearse truly understand humanity, and, as a result, their audience. I’m floored by the fact that this duo is so wise to the ways of the world, and captivated by the way in which Brekus, Sondag, and Gosselin are able to convey emotion throughout the course of Sperm. Why add this level of human emotion into a film that is so clearly meant to be a comedy? Well, those films that tend to focus entirely on humor and void itself of emotion fall away from their audiences, and the emotion present in Sperm builds a veritable bridge that connects viewers not only to the characters, but the film as a whole.
There is a scene, after Suzi and Gwen have posed the question to Craig, that the three lay on a bed, contemplating not only the aforementioned question, but the realm of possibilities that follow. This particular scene is filmed using an overhead closeup shot that aims to capture the emotion present, not just in the script and the dialogue, but on the faces of each of the film's ensemble cast. Sperm is uncomfortable as a result of its taboo topic, but it’s this one scene (more than the rest) that most accurately conveys the emotion that each of the characters would be feeling at this point in time. These three actors accurately convey said emotion as they reel viewers in and drown them in sentiment. Now, to be clear, Sperm never goes so far as to draw viewers away with the flood of emotion, but rather it relays a familiar feeling of uncomfortability that we have all grown (at least somewhat) accustomed to.
Sperm, on the surface, is a silly comedy about Craig and his landladies, stuck in a box of discomfort and ambiguity, but there’s so much more to Kearse’s film. As viewers begin to care for the characters on screen they also begin to understand the relevance of all that Kearse and Brekhus are attempting to purvey. That relevance, far more than the comedy, is what links viewers to each of the film’s characters and allows Sperm to find success. Through a series of brilliant camera angles--particularly the one mentioned above--solid acting, and a beautifully twisted script, Sperm comes out smelling like roses. It’s a wonderful journey that may not technically be for everyone, but contains a powerful message that the world should hear.
Directed by Kirsten Kearse.
Written by Josh Brekhus.
Starring Josh Brekhus, Rachel Sondag, Myesha Gosselin, Anthony Perez, & Debra Olson-Tolar.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐½/10
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