The Bottle
I’ve written about addiction before, specifically about the alcoholism my brother, Mark, dealt with throughout his too short life. The point shouldn’t have to be repeated, but addiction is not a moral failing. It’s not caused by insufficient churchgoing. Addiction is a disease. A physical affliction that sinks its claws into some of us and will not let go.
The sad reality of addiction is that it doesn’t just grind down the addict. The people in the addict’s life are collateral damage, and they can get caught in a slow moving blast radius. As a result, those people often get pushed away or choose to walk away themselves. That leaves the addict alone, and during that twilight, that can be the moment they go down for good.
Say what you will about the effectiveness of programs like Alcoholics Anonymous, but one thing they do is create a community. A sense that you’re not alone, and that there’s always someone there for you. In a country where selfishness is a virtue and where bullying goes hand in hand with pseudo-Christianity, a sense of togetherness is more important than ever. That’s the message of Liquor Bank, the new short film from visionary filmmaker Marcellus Cox.
When Eddie (Antwone Barnes) wakes up, he doesn’t awaken naturally from a night of restful sleep. The zee zee zee of his iPhone alarm drags him to consciousness, and hammers into his head like a railroad spike. The booze still in Eddie’s system doesn’t make it easy, and we see his brain slowly shifting out of park and into first gear.
Eddie’s bottle of booze isn’t quite empty. He figures there’s just enough to…what? Start the day? Numb the pain? A little from column A, a little from column B? Whatever, he’ll start drinking (re-start is perhaps the more accurate word) and figure it out from there. Just as Eddie prepares to tuck into liquor-fueled annihilation, there’s a knock at the door.
The knocker is Baker (Sean Alexander James). He’s come to see Eddie for a few reasons. Eddie is an alcoholic, and up until yesterday, he managed one year of sobriety. Yesterday, Eddie was laid off. He relapsed. He missed his anniversary party to celebrate a year of sobriety, and ended up blowing off a get-together with his mother. Eddie is in trouble, bad trouble, and that’s why Baker has come to his door.
When studio marketers call a filmmaker a visionary, they usually mean that said filmmaker has an intense and/or vivid visual style. Zack Snyder, Terry Gilliam, and Oliver Stone have all been called visionaries. I tend to think of it a little differently. To me, visionary filmmakers don’t just shoot a car chase, edit a sex scene, and cash their check. They have a certain point of view and the skill to share it with the audience.
After this short and his excellent feature Mickey Hardaway, I feel comfortable calling Marcellus Cox a visionary.* His work excels at showing the nuances of Black male experiences, and he does so with intelligence and compassion. If Mickey Hardaway showed the reality of a young man getting his ass kicked by his mental health issues, Liquor Bank shows us the reality of a specific moment of alcoholism. But since this is a short, Cox has to move fast. Inside of Eddie’s mostly well-kept apartment, we see a few visual cues showing his bender and the beginning of his relapse. A lesser director would call attention to themselves with needlessly flashy filmmaking.** Instead, Cox’s edits, cinematography, and scene blocking simply serve to enhance the emotions of the moment. It’s direction that’s quiet, efficient, and confident.
The same can be said for Cox’s screenwriting. Since he has limited time to introduce us to Eddie and Baker, and to set up their relationship, he wastes no time. We get the sense that Eddie has walked a knife’s edge for a long time, and his job loss was the one thing he couldn’t abide. Similarly, we get the sense that Baker has been there and come out the other side. He’s not someone who uses platitudes. It’s easier to just tell the truth.
The film is a two hander, and there are literally two actors comprising the cast. As Eddie, Antwone Barnes portrays the kind of persistent obstinacy common with addicts. He’s positive nothing will get better, and certain that drinking is the only thing in his life worth living for. Sean Alexander James is a great scene partner for Barnes, and as his Baker listens to Eddie, he shows us a mixture of compassion and fatigue. Baker has heard this song before, many times, and as much as he feels bone deep where Eddie is, you get the sense that he wants to hurry Eddie along and wrap up the pity party.
For an alcoholic, the only thing worse than an empty bottle is a full bottle. Liquor Bank understands that concept. It understands that addiction is not conquered, just managed. Most importantly, it understands that addiction cannot be managed alone.
*He may not feel comfortable with that, but we all have our cross to bear.
**Often, that’s a sign of no confidence with the script.