Review: Parachute

Year: 2023

Runtime: 97 minutes

Director: Brittany Snow

Writers: Becca Gleason, Brittany Snow

Actors: Courtney Eaton, Francesca Reale, Thomas Mann, Dave Bautista, Joel McHale, Gina Rodriguez, Kid Cudi

By Nadine Whitney

“I want to be okay with me” – Riley

Writer and director Brittany Snow’s debut feature “Parachute” is an intimate and impartial examination of the difficulty in dealing with persistent mental health issues and the toll they take not only on the person but those who love them. There are no easy fixes, no magic cures, no perfect person who makes it all better. There is only active management and gradual recovery. Even recovery itself can be temporary. As the twelve-step program Riley Hart (Courtney Eaton) is not quite embracing states: One day at a time.

Riley is dealing with disordered eating, body dysmorphia, and what appear to be attachment issues which could stem from numerous sources. We meet Riley the day she has been released from rehab. While she’s waiting for her mother, Olivia (Celeste Oliva) to pick her up from the clinic she’s scrolling through Instagram looking at people she believes to be exemplars of beauty. She is fixated on her imperfection. The day is dreary, she is under a small umbrella. Her compulsion is to call her ex-boyfriend, Hunter, who perhaps cheated on her with someone else – or perhaps he just had images of other people on his phone. She replays his voicemail over and over, “I do love you.”

Instead of Olivia arriving to ferry Riley home it is her best friend Casey (Francesca Reale) whose warm embrace pulls her straight back into the “real world” – where she meets Ethan (Thomas Mann) who is best friends with Justin (Scott Mescudi). Murdering a karaoke song – Justin has caught Casey’s eye. Noting Riley’s quiet discomfort Ethan breezily and wholeheartedly charms Riley.

Within a matter of hours, they are telling each other secrets and almost having sex. Riley isn’t supposed to start dating anyone for at least twelve-months post discharge from the mental hospital. A buffer period where she and Ethan become “best friends” – but something more. Ethan clearly loves Riley regardless of her dangerous self-loathing tendencies. Ethan also has his own set of issues – he’s the son of Jamie (Joel McHale) who is an alcoholic. Ethan tends towards co-dependent. The blanket forts and crime shows shared with Riley – the on demand late night chats – the platonic nights out either in a foursome with Casey and Justin – act as a panacea for them both. Riley is getting the attention she craves, and Ethan is giving her his heart. Neither are moving forward. They are treading water.

Riley’s penchant for self-obliteration comes via her inability to see herself clearly. It isn’t just the disordered eating, the anxiety, and the violent pinching and slapping of her own body which makes her feel wired incorrectly. It is the self-awareness that she is doing the wrong thing deliberately.

Over the space of three years, we watch Riley take a step forward and then two steps backwards. The backwards steps usually involve her stepping on Ethan who desperately wants Riley to see that she is beautiful. “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes,” he tells her. She wants to be seen the way Ethan sees her, but she doesn’t trust that he won’t abandon her. Her sense of self is tenuous. She manipulates even when she’s telling the truth. She lies to her therapist Dr. Akerman (Gina Rodriguez). She dates Max (Jeremy Kucharek) the hollow bartender at the Mystery Theater Restaurant where she works and wants Ethan to be happy for her. She neglects Casey. Riley’s insouciance might not be deliberate, but it is damaging.

A thanksgiving lunch at Ethan’s parent’s home opens Riley’s eyes to his pain. Jamie becomes effusive in a Thanksgiving speech, then abusive. In front of his long-suffering wife, he tells Riley what a waste Ethan is. How his life was ruined by having a kid too early, but at least he made something of himself unlike his one-hit-wonder musician son. Ethan snaps and yells at Jamie, “Do you think I wanted any of this? That this is fun for me?” It is almost an echo of what is going on in Riley’s mind twenty-four-seven, and like Jamie she’s pulling other people into her vortex of need.

Riley and Ethan finally become a couple but the reality of having to treat Ethan as a partner and not a constant bolster isn’t the grand romance she hoped for. Riley expects people to intuit her desires – to know when she isn’t comfortable. When Casey and Justin get engaged it pushes Riley into a meltdown. Her ostensible forever person is standing next to her holding her hand and her instinct is to disentangle, flee, and reject him.

No matter how many times Riley hears that she is loved she won’t believe it without wearing people down for proof. Even when they do prove it, it isn’t enough because she fundamentally believes she is unlovable. A belief which is reinforced by her dismissive and absent mother who refuses to acknowledge that Riley’s disordered eating is an illness – it is Riley being perpetually a truculent child who is unable to grow up or take care of herself.

In a hierarchical society with multiple strata signally what “success” comprises of it is difficult not to judge oneself against the achievements of others. Someone is always better at whatever it is you do. Someone’s hair is prettier. Someone has found contentment where you could not. Someone is apparently “doing fine” when you are struggling. External validation is the benchmark for worth and love.

Mental illness and addiction are an added hurdle. Fighting overwhelming impulses becomes emotional myopia but also means certain people can detect weakness because of their experience. “Parachute” allows Riley to be wrong, to be hurtful, and acknowledges that being unstable is a mitigating factor but not a catch all excuse for bad behaviour.

Bryce’s (Dave Bautista) Mystery Theater Restaurant where Riley and Casey work is on the brink of closure because his ambition outweighs his talent as a writer. Riley’s talent for putting the pieces together in a puzzle opens new horizons for them when he trusts her to pen a new script. Avenues exist for Riley to make and be positive change.

Brittany Snow and co-writer Becca Gleason’s script rings with authenticity despite some small narrative issues. For example, we meet Olivia far too late in the film to understand the impact she has on Riley’s behaviour and self-esteem. Possibly Snow and Gleason made the choice to focus on Riley’s search for a “parachute” because she feels orphaned. She lives in a huge apartment, but it is not her home – it belongs to Olivia.

Courtney Eaton’s encompassing vulnerability as Riley makes “Parachute” compelling. Eaton is beautiful, but she is also able to project the uncertainty and uglier aspects of the character without losing the sympathy of the audience. Thomas Mann as Ethan is the personification of a warm and light embrace which becomes weighted over time. The relationship between Riley and Ethan is life changing for both as they learn that holding tight is also letting go.

“Parachute” is a mature character driven drama which is simultaneously polished and imperfect. Humans are imprecise and brains are wells of ambiguity. Brittany Snow suggests we can write a better story for ourselves if we are brave enough to recognise that we need to first pick up the pen. “Parachute” observes a life in freefall with delicacy, significance and the waft of an upwards breeze.

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