By William Blick.
Towns’ is unafraid to ask hard questions about education, religion, morality, censorship, gender bias, and civil rights. He does so in the format of a dystopic, sci-fiction vehicle in 90 minutes on a limited budget, with limited actors, to impressive results….”
Jim Towns’ new film, Mercy is a startling piece of dystopic cinema that mirrors the all-to-relevant events and fears that the public face today. The filmmaker seems to have snipped the plot right from current headlines. Using flashbacks to Salem witch trials, quick editing, and intimate dialogues, the story tells of Mercy, an outlawed literature instructor that holds classes in English Romantic poetry over Zoom in secret under an evidently looming, oppressive “big brother” fascist government.
This film is different from Towns’ previous work, the revenge thriller Killer Ex (2024), as it treads into political thriller and sci-fi territory. Mercy is impressive considering the obviously very meager budget. The acting is somewhat limited, but effective enough to build suspense. Towns is not shy about his political leanings in this film, and it could be construed as somewhat heavy-handed. Yet, something struck this viewer as alarming, and it is anticipated that others may be startled as well.
In the age of book banning, intolerance, and hatred, Towns’ bold film ventures into well-tread territory, yet somehow this modest entry adds additional layers to the dystopic vision. The influences of the film are clear. One can see shades of Orwell’s 1984, Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale, and even Lucas’ THX-1138.
“That’s why we live like this,” Mercy’s partner says as the couple endures the oppression that the regime of the nameless state inflicts on its citizens. Towns paint a grim future, wherein basic rights are violated or eliminated altogether, and it is not a pretty picture here. Anyone who believes in the desire to protect freedom of speech and expression may find this film compelling.
With the fascist government in power in the film, “all bets are off” as human rights are violated and all in the name of keeping people “safe,” art and literature is censored, women’s rights are curtailed, and same-sex relationships are outlawed. There is even a curfew. Towns’ direction and tone have a sense of urgency like a smoldering fire, and it will surely elicit an emotional response from viewers. He keeps the film intimate and focuses on few characters, and this harnesses the energy into a slow burn. As the film progresses at a minimal 90 minutes, more rights of Mercy are stripped as she struggles to unite with her partner and elude the “authorities” who will conduct something called “processing” or rather brainwashing on her.
The question is: “Haven’t we seen this before?” The answer is “Yes, but not like this.” Towns is a Pittsburgh native, a town where indie horror was pioneered by no one other than George Romero in his The Night of The Living Dead. While there is no zombie invasion, Mercy succeeds in creating a cold and crumbling world onto itself that tries to ask viewers to “question authority”? -an adage of the 1960s, but more relevant today than ever.
While I make no claim that this film is action packed, it does have that Je ne sais quo that elevates the film above sheer exploitation of current fears and anxieties. Using digital photography, limited location shooting, eerie lighting, and claustrophobic shots of faces on computer screens, Towns creates dread as well as provides anxiety-provoking viewing that is surely vigorous enough to make one squirm.
“Knowledge cannot be regulated,” Mercy implores, as a security personnel officer recites the open lines of “Howl” by Allen Ginsberg and his disdain for literature. The two banter back and forth as Mercy fights not to be thought-processed with extensive governmental intervention. This is the most intense scene in the film. The “aha” moment that is quite pronounced occurs in this instance.
Echoes of the original Twilight Zone’s “The Obsolete Man” and other episodes can be seen throughout Towns’ film as Mercy resists judgement, punishment, or condemnation just for wanting to impart knowledge and perspective on the world, and ultimately, to live a full life. While Mercy is not always an easy viewing, it is a competent film that communicates its message in a chilling and imaginative manner in the tradition of Serling, Bradbury, Huxley, and Burgess.
Up to the climax, the plot is quite unpredictable as Mercy’s partner doubts her feelings for her after processing. Ultimately, it leads to tragic consequences, but Mercy eventually takes a stand against an essential authority figure. There is some ambiguity here, but the ending makes the case for self-expression and imagination citing Bradbury and leading to a shred of hope.
Towns’ is unafraid to ask hard questions about education, religion, morality, censorship, gender bias, and civil rights. He does so in the format of a dystopic, sci-fiction vehicle in 90 minutes on a limited budget, with limited actors, to impressive results. What can be of concern is that the arguments made in the film are very one-sided, where the “bad folks” are easily labelled “bad” and “good guys” are easily definable as inherently “good” as well as leaving little room for exploring even a shade of grey. Other than that, the film is riveting enough to leave one with questions about authority, identity, and human rights in an entertaining style.
William Blick is a literary/crime fiction and film critic, a librarian, and an academic scholar. He is contributing editor to Retreats from Oblivion: The Journal of Noircon and has published work in Senses of Cinema, Film Threat, Cinema Retro, Cineaction, and Film International Online, where he frequently contributes. He is also an Associate Professor/Librarian for Queensborough Community College of CUNY.