Shatara Michelle Ford’s “Test Pattern” is one of the best debuts of the 2020s, one of those films that instantly has you curious about what they’re going to do next. In this case, it feels like Ford chose a challenge: emotionally driven filmmaking that can be very difficult to pull off if every collaborator isn’t on the same page and communicating honestly. Ford’s “Dreams in Nightmares,” a story of three Black queer friends who go on a road trip to find a missing fourth, is a deceptively complex piece of work, and a strikingly rewarding one.
At first, it feels loose, maybe even improvised, but it’s richer than the kind of neorealist approach that some filmmakers would have taken as Ford directs their performers to find truth within their characters. It’s a case of performance and even setting working tightly with direction, influencing one another in a way that feels organic and artistic instead of merely meeting pre-expectations or storyboards. It’s a personal, impassioned, empathetic view of America in the 2020s, one that both details divisions in this country but also celebrates both the queer community and how it is influenced by and influences the rest of the United States. And, in the end, it’s about how being true to yourself and following the pull of your immediate needs can lead you to where you belong.
Z (Denée Benton) gets laid off from their job right when she and her other close friends realize that none of them have heard from Kel (Mars Rucker) in far too long. Recurring dreams of a door into a brightly lit field hint at a journey for Z, who becomes the center of this road trip to find Kel, one that includes her best friends Tasha (Sasha Compere) and Lauren (Dezi Bing), both of whom are facing their own challenges regarding happiness in a world that can be remarkably difficult.
Traveling the country, the friends find their way to both Kel’s ex-partner (a vibrant Jasmin Savoy Brown) and her parents (Robert Wisdom & Regina Taylor), neither of whom offers much guidance but instead shapes the film’s themes of identity. It takes the film through such unexpected filmmaking locales as Pittsburgh and Iowa City, the heartland of the country often referred to as “flyover.” Cinematographer Ludovica Isidori doesn’t glamorize them as much as find their ordinary beauty, adding to the film’s sense of discovery and search for belonging. One can find meaning anywhere—even Iowa City.
Ford and Isidori often play with the expected visual language of a film like this, finding greater poetry than the average road movie in interiors, and sometimes even staging conversations so that each character breaks the fourth wall and speaks directly to camera. It might sound gimmicky, but it adds immediacy and enhances empathy, putting us in a character’s POV.
Ford has said that influences on “Dreams in Nightmares” include unique choices like Wim Wenders’ “Paris, Texas” and Mike Leigh’s “Another Year,” which might seem like opposite ends of the dramatic spectrum until you see the hybrid. There’s the organic humanism of Leigh’s work, cast against the curious American landscape of Wenders. The production notes also reference Spike Lee, Jim Jarmusch, and Hou Hsiao-hsien, which hints at both deep filmmaking knowledge and the ambition to merge these influences into something new.
Some truly fascinating Community Guidelines influenced the production of “Dreams in Nightmares,” a document handed out to each location with sections like “We will make mistakes” and “We will speak with care.” It’s a fascinating document that reveals the deep collaboration and respect that existed on this production. What’s almost heartwarming is that when a production prioritizes safety, the dignity of everyone involved, consistent communication, and the comfort needed to create on a traveling set, you can see the result on screen.
It’s common to say a filmmaker is on the rise after their first or second film, but Ford is already there, and it’s not just the films they’re making but how they’re making them that could shift the independent film industry. One can dream.
