Happer’s Comet review – a pandemic-shot film of exquisite reflection and beauty

The pandemic-shot film, including the likes of Almodóvar’s The Human Voice and Euphoria-auteur/war criminal Sam Levinson’s Malcom & Marie, tends to revolves around a small cast and crew delivering a single idea, in a single location. The emphasis is on isolation, though the results are often far from singular. Tyler Taormina proves a real exception: you could not come up with a more satisfying lockdown film than his new Happer’s Comet, which shows how far the director has come since his Adult Swim-lite comedy Ham on Rye.

It’s the dead of night in a suburban Long Island town. Crickets chirp, street lights flicker, occasionally a car goes by. A few people cross the town on rollerblades. But where do they fly to? With this extremely minimalist foundation, Taormina layers moment after moment of exquisite pause, reflection and beauty. In a diner, a man counting cash thinks he hears something outside. A mechanic listens to the radio at his shop and aspires to get into shape. One guy skates around, recording the ambience of the town, in a meta-wink at the existence of this very film. In the moment, none of these scenes feel disconnected.

The film was shot by Jesse Sperling, who along with Taormina was the only crew member. During the 2020 pandemic lockdown, the two Long Islanders returned home, and shot at the weekends in neighbours’ houses. After each shoot, they would devise the next week’s scenes, giving the film a real sense of progression. This emphasis on movement, in such a quiet film, is what makes it so accessible and entertaining. Even when seemingly little is taking place, the viewers’ eye is still drawn to a specific mystery that we hope the next shot will uncover.

Happer’s Comet creates a specific sensation, which I hope the reader has shared, like when one wakes in the middle of the night to find the light from a street lamp or the moon whispering into the room, and the silvery light casts a glow in the darkness so vivid that each object and the walls of the room look like they have changed colours to take on a blue hue. It’s as though waking into a new world, and it’s rare to see that captured on film with such directness.

It leads to an incredibly potent finale that recalls Apichatpong Weerasethakul and Kenneth Anger. Like them, its abstraction feels anything but intellectual. If there is a film released in 2022 with a more economical route to moving the viewer’s heart than this, I would certainly like to see it.

Happer's Comet was screened as part of the Berlinale Film Festival 2022. A UK release date is yet to be announced.