If titles are useful indicators of what a film has in store, then The Sensation of Sight must be a very profound 134 minutes. Trouble is, first time director and writer Aaron Wiederspahn's ambitions heavily outweigh his ability to actually make a profound film. As is usually the case, wanting to be profound and actually being profound is an ocean apart and, unfortunately, TSOS is no exception.
TSOS's multiple characters all wear their angst on their sleeves and each of them stumbles through life burdened by their past, tortured in the present and bouncing off each other for the sole purpose of pulling out little bits of profundity from one another. This not so subtle device is used in excess as a means to propel the story and illuminate each enigmatic character's back story one tidbit at a time. But little of TSOS's overt melodrama feels sincere, instead it's authorial voice screams from rooftops at how deep and emotionally powerful the writer's words are. The stabs at deeper meaning are telegraphed through a series of overwrought contrivances, making it very difficult to identify with characters who do unnatural things, spew writerly dialogue and awkwardly interact with one another for the sole purpose of forwarding narrative. In many ways, TSOS is reminiscent of Paul Haggis' Crash, another heavily contrived film that will stop at nothing to prove to you how profound it is. While Crash barely manages to pull off the impossible, TSOS falls short.
Despite it's weaknesses, TSOS does possess a quiet charm, a quality that comes through in it's slow pacing, attention to minutiae and simple yet poetic photography. It also possesses an effectively minimal soundtrack punctuated with occasional injections of indie rock gems. Nevertheless, Wiederspahn's inexperience as a filmmaker seeps into TSOS and it never manages to escape the suffocating voice of its author. There's a good chance Wiederspahn has the tools and the sensitivity to mature into a uniquely talented and individual filmmaker, but unless you've got 2 plus hours to dispense on potential, you might be better off waiting for his next film.
TSOS's multiple characters all wear their angst on their sleeves and each of them stumbles through life burdened by their past, tortured in the present and bouncing off each other for the sole purpose of pulling out little bits of profundity from one another. This not so subtle device is used in excess as a means to propel the story and illuminate each enigmatic character's back story one tidbit at a time. But little of TSOS's overt melodrama feels sincere, instead it's authorial voice screams from rooftops at how deep and emotionally powerful the writer's words are. The stabs at deeper meaning are telegraphed through a series of overwrought contrivances, making it very difficult to identify with characters who do unnatural things, spew writerly dialogue and awkwardly interact with one another for the sole purpose of forwarding narrative. In many ways, TSOS is reminiscent of Paul Haggis' Crash, another heavily contrived film that will stop at nothing to prove to you how profound it is. While Crash barely manages to pull off the impossible, TSOS falls short.
Despite it's weaknesses, TSOS does possess a quiet charm, a quality that comes through in it's slow pacing, attention to minutiae and simple yet poetic photography. It also possesses an effectively minimal soundtrack punctuated with occasional injections of indie rock gems. Nevertheless, Wiederspahn's inexperience as a filmmaker seeps into TSOS and it never manages to escape the suffocating voice of its author. There's a good chance Wiederspahn has the tools and the sensitivity to mature into a uniquely talented and individual filmmaker, but unless you've got 2 plus hours to dispense on potential, you might be better off waiting for his next film.