Unsung: An Ode to the Best 2009 Movie You’ve Probably Never Seen
I love a tentpole studio movie as much as anyone. I’m a Jaws obsessive, I grew up with the teachings of Obi Wan Kenobi, and I sure ain’t afraid of no ghost. But over a decade ago I stumbled upon a piece of filmmaking that took root in my soul and has remained there ever since. And as of yet, I don’t know another human being who has seen it.
In a year that saw the worldwide box office dominated by Avatar 1, Ice Age 3 and Harry Potter 6, a budding indie auteur named Jamin Winans released only his second feature, a thoroughly original and unique little film called Ink. When I first stumbled blindly upon it on streaming, I knew nothing but the brief synopsis provided. 104 minutes later and with tears down my cheeks, I believed it to be the best movie of 2009.
And I still do, for several reasons.
It’s intricately plotted
Ink was (deep breath!) written, produced, directed, edited and scored by Winans entirely in his native Colorado. I know! A movie that blends sci-fi, fantasy, action and the metaphysical, helmed by a filmmaker with complete creative control, could indeed become a bloated, muddled mess. But Winans, with his cast of relative unknowns, manages to tell a complex yet cohesive tale. The movie centres on a three-way battle for a little girl’s soul, waged in the dreamworld by the forces of light (the Storytellers), darkness (the Incubi), and the titular monster who longs to be free of his unsightly scars. Meanwhile in the real world, the girl’s selfish, estranged father grapples with guilt and trauma in the run-up to a high-pressure business deal.
It’s a product of adversity
Perhaps it was the heavy themes, complex structure and ambitious imagery, along with Winans’ untested pedigree, that deterred the studios. Whatever the reason, necessity is the mother of invention, and Winans went full indie, producing and distributing Ink through his own company, Double Edge Films. This, I believe, is the key to the movie’s triumph. How many times has a movie gone way over budget and schedule, only for the director to lament his diluted vision at the hands of meddling studio execs? Ink is a passion project kept in check by its own self-imposed parameters.
It makes the most of its tight budget
Ink was produced for a mere $250,000, and it shows. But not in the way you might think. The film is aware of its limitations. Rather than aiming for Michael Bay-scale spectacle and jolting the viewer with clunky CGI, its effects are plentiful but subtle. Filters are used to distinguish between the different realms, and gateways between these realms are briefly depicted as blinding portals of light. While the camera is occasionally treated to fantastical set design, most of the story plays out in the modern urban landscape. While some of the more sinister characters are clad in otherworldly costumes and makeup—the Incubi’s flickering, grimacing digital faces are particularly nightmarish—most of the characters wear contemporary dress. Rather than appearing cheap, this all contributes to a sense of magical realism that further absorbs the viewer.
Sharp editing and music do a lot of the heavy lifting
The various worlds of Ink are rich and well-developed, but we are not shown this through sweeping vistas or bustling cityscapes. Thoughtful editing provides snapshots of rooms, faces and important objects, and the viewer is credited with enough intelligence to piece them all together in a way that makes sense, all while retaining a mystery and unfamiliarity that add to the portrayal of dimensions beyond our comprehension. And while Ink is by no means an Action Movie, the fight scenes peppered throughout are cut in a way that is kinetic while showcasing the impressive choreography. Special mention, too, for one particularly rhythmic scene that shows a chain of events pivotal to the film’s third act. All of this is accompanied by a subdued but heartfelt score that reads the script’s emotional beats perfectly.
Its themes are universal but acutely realised
To summarise without revealing too much of the plot, Ink deals with themes that cinema has addressed countless times since it began. It is a story of redemption and self-forgiveness, of good versus evil, of grief and, ultimately, love. However, such themes can lose clarity if not framed among three-dimensional characters. Through vulnerable performances and revealing flashbacks, we come to care about the beings who inhabit the worlds of Ink. Critically, we know and understand their flaws and, most importantly, we forgive them.
I’m not exactly sure why Ink brings me to tears every time. Several storylines tug at my emotions. The story of an unseen battle between good and evil plucks at my sense of childlike wonder. The story of a man grappling with his responsibilities jabs at my anxiety as a father. But take a step back, and there is also the story of an artist working against the odds to bring to the screen his singular vision. In that, Winans succeeds in breathtaking fashion. Whichever storyline your heart chooses to follow, it is one of hope, faith and triumph over adversity.
On its release, Ink quickly gained a following through streaming torrents. But instead of lashing out at the world of online piracy, Winans welcomed the exposure. Despite rejection by the Hollywood system, his film found an audience. In a digital world saturated with content, Ink is a reminder that a leap of faith can take us to unexpectedly wonderful places, whether doggedly pursuing ones art or simply taking a chance on a movie you’ve never heard of before.