Hoop tober No. 10 #24

I don't need my faves to be admirable people but I'm nonetheless glad that Larry Fessenden is out there. He moves, walks and talks like a dissipated bohemian (on this night, as on other occasions I've seen him, he gave an air of tolerating the Q&A but being eager for the afterparty) but everything that comes out of his mouth is informed by a gentle spirit and a passion for the countercultural power of art in general and monster movies in particular. He speaks with evident pride of the side of his career that has involved mentoring younger filmmakers... again, he acts as though he is slightly bemused at the notion of a ne'er-do-well like himself serving as a role model, but you don't just trip and fall into such a position, it takes a lot of patience and dedication. In that frame, it was especially touching to see him be presented with a lifetime achievement award by Jenn Wexler, who has worked with him for years and is now a two-time feature director herself.

I'm obviously sentimental about Fessenden, so you'll have to take my word for it that, apart from those tender feelings, Habit is an unprepossessing banger. A philosophical, melancholy reflection on human frailty in the ragged garments of a sexy indie made on a shoestring.

Sam (played by Fessenden who also wrote and directed and edited the film) has just lost his father, which exacerbates the feeling he already has (inadequately masked by his drinking) that he is on the downward slope of his life. Nothing like a few erotic thrills to take the edge of that malaise, and that seems like what Sam has found when Anna (Meredith Snaider) ensnares him at a Halloween party. Sam can't believe his luck, but the joys of the affair start to inexplicably curdle.

The movie has what every low-budget movie wishes it had — a pungent sense of time and place. I arrived in NYC in 1995 and the poignant rush of feeling yanked back in time to that era was dizzying. And the nuances in characterization reach exquisite levels at times. The blithe selfishness of Meredith Snaider is a more profound statement, in the subtle touches of the performance, than any of the more writerly editorializing about parasitism that Fessenden unwisely slips in a late scene. And I love a movie that plays the game of "Is she a vampire or is Sam losing his wits?" in a way that feels a little fun and a little sinister. It was a fun movie to watch at Brooklyn Horror because it's a movie that's respectful of genre conventions without ever becoming slavish.

Brooklyn Horror Film Festival.