After her father’s death, „Invention’s” protagonist Carrie (Kali Hernandez) finds herself the beneficiary of a patent for an electromagnetic healing device — a glowing cylindrical model of oddities-emitting multicolored tubes that Hernandez’s own late father had. The electrical noises sound like something straight out of a sci-fi movie.
Los Angeles-based director Courtney Stephens speaks Variety About his Locarno-première film „The Discovery”, describing the machine as „the mystery at the center of the film”. Unsure of what to do about it — or his father’s death — Gary struggles to process the loss of a larger-than-life figure: a doctor turned „spiritual healer,” whose credibility is forever questioned.
On the surface, „Invention” explores the universal human experience of grieving a complicated loved one. However, what makes the film unique is its innovative format. Competing in the Concorso Cineasti del Presente category at this year’s Locarno Film Festival, „Invention” is nominally classified as 'fiction’, although it defies simple classification. It can be seen as a combination of Hernández’s late father’s biography, documentary and archival footage, offering more than a traditional narrative.
This blurring of genres serves a higher purpose, so that the plot blurs the distinctions between fairy tales, myths, and American proverbs. Which begs an important question: In the end, aren’t they all good conspiracy theories? This study is carried out in a very soft and unbiased manner.
As the filmmakers mentioned, “We met a lot of interesting people while making this film. The texts of the plot—and, we both recognized it—there was a belief in these, a belief in storytelling. Plots are just stories.
Stephens describes „Invention” as „a diary of its own making.” Created during the writers’ strike and post-Covid-19 pandemic, the film’s format reflects both the freedom the co-writer/producers wanted to explore the story and the external circumstances that shaped its production.
When asked to describe the genre of the film, Hernandez said, „We discovered the film while we were making it. „We always knew we wanted to make a dead dad movie, but we didn’t know what it would be.”
Along with cinematographer Rafael Palacio Illingworth and a handful of actors, Stephens and Hernandez set out on a „shoestring” mission to reveal unfathomable emotional truths about the unorthodox ways of grieving and the house of cards, the system of beliefs that underlies American life. Hernandez did her own sound miking, and the cast helped out with laundry, cooking, coffee, or whatever else needed to be done.
„We were interested in the grieving process and kind of punctured the idea that there’s this smooth, orderly way of doing things,” Stephens elaborated on Carrie’s central emotional arc. “Grief is disappointing; It is irregular. You do it because time passes and you have no choice but to change.
„We both entered this film with the same understanding that grief has a way, not a way around it,” Hernandez said. „You’re a bit of a ragdoll.”
This sympathetic ethos is reflected starkly in Hernandez’s vulnerable leading performance. At first, Gary confronts the boring, uncomfortable bureaucracy of death and the carefree enthusiasm of his late father’s supporters, such as Baby (Lucy Kaminsky), with a „wooden” face. Although Carey is initially guarded with these characters, it’s important that Stephens and Hernandez approach them with compassion. Although the pair explored the sometimes bizarre world of medical conspiracy theory, they chose to focus on „the effect on people, rather than the desire to condemn”.
Gradually, faith begins to take root, and Gary begins to understand why his father is a „true believer.” She begins to move beyond the question of whether the machine actually works. As the layers of the story are peeled away, the film draws attention away from the distractions we seek during grief. „Believing in something is a way to organize your disbelief,” Stephens said, eloquently summarizing a certain hope as we watch the post-Covid American dream crumble.
As Hernandez and Stephens put it, „Even small interactions that seem irrelevant in the grand, dramatic scope of grief find their place—the mundane, the magical, the dumb, the stupid. , and the wonderful.”