I LIVE HERE NOW

I LIVE HERE NOW

Body horror and the directorial debut of Julie Pacino

Rose is a young actress still waiting for her big break. She’s just been given a chance: she’s landed a promising role but has to lose 1.5 kilograms in just a few days. The problem is, she’s just found out she’s pregnant. She’s shocked — a childhood gynecological surgery left her not only with trauma but also with the belief that she was infertile.

To make things worse, the father of the child is Travis, also an actor — good enough that Rose believed he was truly in love with her. Travis, however, has a toxic relationship with his mother, who controls every aspect of his life. Rose decides to arrange an abortion on her own. As a result, she ends up in a strange pastel-colored motel with rules that seem to come from another dimension and spaces straight out of a nightmare. There, she will have to confront her deepest traumas.

“Now Here I Live” is the directorial debut of Julie Pacino, the daughter of the legendary Al. It’s a coherent, deeply feminist, and bone-chilling film. Pacino has created a withdrawn protagonist, accustomed to dealing with her deep psychological wounds in solitude. This film is a story about fear and trauma — about overcoming them, and about surrendering to them when the fight no longer makes sense.

It’s also a genuine body horror, visually stunning not only in its production design but also in its makeup and special effects. A powerful film that compels you to follow its heroine, even when it’s clear from the very beginning that she’s descending into hell.

The leading role is played by the fantastic Lucy Fry, known to wider audiences from the Stephen King–based series “11.22.63,” in which she portrayed Marina Oswald. In a supporting role, as the mother of the fragile and twisted Travis, shines Sheryl Lee — the unforgettable Laura Palmer from David Lynch’s “Twin Peaks.”