By the time the last act arrives, it is hard not to feel like the events contained within should have happened in the first thirty minutes.īecause between those two timestamps, not much goes on at all. And once it becomes clear that the film has no interest in or intention to really try answering this big question, the audience is left with a collective shrug as to what is going on, what could happen, or even what should happen. While this mystery as to what happened is a decently strong incentive to hang on for the ride, the helmers make the mistake of not attempting to create any sort of minor dramatic questions to keep the audience engaged on a smaller scale in the meantime. As their hysteria mounts - rather rapidly, I might add - the duo soon realize they are utterly alone. Hours later, she is woken by Riley (O’Leary) to an empty town. Then it happens: a flash of light from an unknown source emanates in the distance, allowing for a beautiful shot of her face with the light reflected in the window. Jenai (Monroe) wakes up during the night and looks out the window. I’ll say this, the catalytic event of Bokeh is compelling. With this wandering still-life sensation, an hour and thirty minutes crawls along, and, like its titular aesthetic definition, Bokeh remains completely out of focus both narratively and thematically. Throughout the rest of the film, Orthewin and Sullivan make the costly mistake of returning to this montage-heavy crutch, a choice that causes the entire narrative - and, in the process, any attempt at character development - to meander along without purpose or thrust. These opening moments, which should function as groundwork for a dynamic relationship, are stylized in such a way as to feel like a demo reel for an Icelandic visitation website - beautifully shot, but devoid of character. Instead of feeling like we’re getting to know these characters, we, too, feel like tourists - not just to the lush Icelandic vistas, but to the characters themselves. And as the montage goes on, an issue starts to arise. Accompanied by dreamlike music, we watch them pass by the gorgeous landscapes and cold tundras of this mysterious realm. At the beginning of Bokeh - the debut of writer-director duo Geoffrey Orthwein and Andrew Sullivan - an idyllic montage introduces us to a young couple ( Maika Monroe and Matt O’Leary ) traveling through a scenic Iceland for their five-day getaway.
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