What would happen if you locked the three Freudian emotional archetypes, the id—the ego and the super-ego—in a room for two days? Would the ego mediate between the id and super-ego, like Freud suggested in his theories, or would something else entirely happen? And what is the relevance of quantum theory and Schrödinger’s Cat? These are some of the questions asked by the low-budget indie film Monk3ys, written, directed and filmed by Drew Cullingham, in which three guys representing each of the Freudian elements are voluntarily locked inside a room for two days as part of a behavioural science experiment.
Dougie (pronounced DOOgie, not DUHgie; played by Jonny Hurn) is an out-of-work actor and a raging alcoholic who can’t think past his next drink. He’s the perfect representation of the animalistic id according to the researchers, although he has trouble seeing the experiment as more than some weird kind of audition.
Stevie (Rob Oldfield) is an uptight idealist, who believes in a perfect social order in which humans govern themselves, and thinks morality is absolute no matter the circumstances or the culture – cue amused sniggers and shaking heads. He’s a good bloke, but he’s let the rules take the better of him, making him a human version of the super-ego, the enforcer of society’s rules in the human psyche.
Lastly, there’s Nathan (Ian Virgo), a former soldier who appears “clinically normal”; he’s supposed to act as mediator between the two opposites, Dougie and Stevie, if Freud’s theories about the ego are any indication. He has his own issues though, and though he treats everything with nonchalance and humour at first, he occasionally lets slip a darker, more sinister attitude which eventually becomes the catalyst of the movie – but more on that in a second.
The film’s narrative is split between the “found footage” filmed by cameras inside the remote room the three men have been locked in and the interviews conducted by the researchers (Trish, played by Rosanna Hoult, and Adam, played by James Fisher who was also the executive producer on the project) during the selection process for subjects. We gradually find out the three men’s stories, which in combination with the conversations happening inside the room give us more or less a full picture of who these people are. Due to the tight budget the production focuses on dialogue and character, and it manages to do that splendidly; the dialogue feels completely natural and unforced, while the characters emerge very three-dimensional as the 48 hours progress and the experiment concludes itself.
Stevie reveals that he’s a virgin of 28 years when the conversation naturally turns sexual, and the other two make fun of him while boasting about their own successes. Dougie narrates an anecdote from his life, only for the other two to realise it’s a scene from a movie Dougie was once an extra in. Nathan stands by and laughs things off most of the time, stepping between the other two and bringing a balance about, quite predictably. Yet he seldom talks about himself, his past or his problems, while the other two have been doing just that for two days, and gets very defensive when either of the others tries to talk to him about the army or going to war. Dougie, who’s known Nathan for years, whispers that Nathan didn’t quit the army, but was discharged for being gay. A sleeping Nathan doesn’t hear this, and it mostly slides by unnoticed, until the experiment drags on and the real Stevie, Dougie and Nathan come out to play.
At the end of the 48-hour mark, the researchers aren’t there to open the doors. Dougie is the first to realise that this is where the real experiment begins. Having run out of food and water, the three spend the next 24 hours in a hazy delirium, getting into fights and trashing the place out of frustration and boredom. Finally, Nathan’s walls come down and he unleashes the darkness we were only allowed glimpses of earlier, irrevocably wrecking whatever the three had managed to build over the past few days and effectively scarring Stevie for life. The problem of the experiment model is that even though these three guys are theoretically perfect representations of the id, the ego and the super-ego, they are still human beings with their own conflicting issues, and those naturally come bubbling up once the experiment, and all the propriety expected of them, is over.
When the doors open, the researchers come face to face with the result of opening the box; until then, they weren’t sure if the cat would be alive or dead, so to speak—Adam’s obsession with quantum theory and Schrödinger’s Cat (the idea that if you put a cat and some poison in a box and close the box, at any given time the cat is both alive and dead until you open the box and see for yourself if the cat’s taken the poison or not) has been the reason for not opening the doors at the 48-hour mark.
The ending has been hinted at in the beginning of the film, where we see Trish and Adam opening the doors and discovering the scene of a gruesome crime, blood smeared on the walls and the mutilated bodies of the three subjects set up in different positions around the room. I watched the film anticipating the turning point that would lead to the murders, half-expecting to see the actual violence itself. But when the film goes full circle, from the beginning of the experiment to the point the doors open again, we are flooded with a montage of scenes and shots that break the fourth wall and address the viewers directly: the room is being painted, and there’s writing everywhere across the walls; lines from the script are written in black marker ink under candlelight; the ancient Chinese proverb linked to the three wise monkeys (see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil) is mixed in with dialogue and directions from previous scenes; we keep getting reminded that “none of this is real”.
I left the theatre with mixed feelings, and I’m still not sure what to make of it all these days later. The point Drew Cullingham is trying to make is slightly lost on me, and it feels as if there isn’t a proper endgame to the film. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for some Brecht-ian fourth-wall-breakage and reminding the audience that what they’re watching is staged and not real, but Brecht and all the subsequent playwrights and filmmakers that came after him usually had a point to make about the state of society and issues they wanted to awaken their audience to; Monk3ys doesn’t have that attitude, or if it does the issues it tries to address are unclear. While the characterisation through the great writing and amazing performances paints a very real portrait of the characters involved, none of their issues speak loudly enough to be considered a comment on society or the world at large. It could be a play against the genre of found-footage films, of which Monk3ys is a fine example, with the reminder that none of this is real going right up against the principle of convincing the audience the footage could have actually happened. Either way it feels like there isn’t a point to the ending other than making you think about reality and the movie-going experience, which is a little less deep than you’d expect of this year’s winner of the Microbudget category at Raindance.
You should see it if you like movies that make you think, characters that make you nod and cringe and laugh, and scripts that ooze authenticity performed by actors who are just perfect for their parts and overflowing with talent. Perhaps not a movie to be watched twice, but definitely worth seeing.
Images copyright of Elephant Pictures.
Watch the trailer here.
Special thanks to Raindance.
