Julie Pacino’s feature film debut I Live Here Now is one of the most self-assured first features I’ve seen in recent memory. Her surrealist vision of a woman’s struggle against a lifetime of neuroses, projected expectations, and abuse is painted with a pastel pink brush, dripping in dread and anxiety. Plus, stellar performances from the ensemble cast, especially Lucy Fry and Madeline Brewer, ground this psychedelic modern fairytale about one woman’s journey to reclaim her bodily autonomy.
Fry stars in I Live Here Now as Rose, a young woman trying to make it as an actress in sleazy Los Angeles. As she auditions for films and passes her time with her sleazy boyfriend (Matt Rife), she flashes back to childhood when she underwent a traumatic medical procedure against her will that left her infertile. But suddenly, she discovers she’s somehow pregnant and is pressured by her boyfriend and his severe mother (Sheryl Lee) to take care of the pregnancy ASAP in the name of preserving their family name.
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Rose escapes their incessant questioning at the Crown Hotel, where she has decided to spend the night before her abortion. She’s greeted by Sid (Sarah Rich), a cutesy bellboy, and owner Ada (Lara Clear) in a hotel lobby painted all the colors of a Barbie Dream House. And yet, despite the sickly sweet decor, there’s a feeling of rot hanging in the air, a foul smell being masked by too much air freshener. Rose checks in to her room, the Lovin’ Oven, and quickly meets Lillian (Brewer), a chain smoking brunette with a fiery smile and a mischievous vibe.
As Rose settles into her room, she quickly realizes not all is as it seems. Reality begins to warp and she’s plagued by even stronger visions of her past trauma. She’s forced to face her past and wander through a phantasmagorical labyrinth in the form of a rundown motel, full of secrets and revelations long since buried.
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Fry is stunning as Rose, embodying feminine anxiety and rage in one fell swoop. She stumbles through the world like a juvenile deer, unsure of her steps but still compelled to move forward. Her fae-like appearance hides a rabid feral rage that lives inside her chest, hiding a creature ready to rip its way into our world.
Brewer periodically slinks onto the screen, embodying the idea of the “whore” stereotype, a lollipop-sucking, cigarette-smoking harlot with a dirty mouth and a similar rage in her chest. She and Fry circle each other like two lionesses, unsure if they love or hate each other, locked in a subconscious battle. Rounding the ensemble out is Rich as our virginal archetype and Clear as the mother archetype, but perverted visions of such, twisted uncanny images of what we expect from such tropes, both visually and narratively.
This perversion of expectations extends to Pacino’s approach to both writing and directing I Live Here Now. There’s an assuredness on display here, particularly when it comes to the film’s pacing and how it balances the surreal with a cohesive narrative. There’s always a temptation to go full art house film and deliver an experimental creation that thrives solely on vibes. Pacino understands the need to understand the story while also riding that perfectly curated vibe and aesthetic.
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But what Pacino really captures here is the very real horrors of existing in the world as a woman and what it means to never truly have control over your own body. It’s not only our wombs that the patriarchy wants to control; they want to weaponize every little imperfection to keep us complacent. This results in a fragmented self, torn apart by self-doubt, self-hatred, and deep-seated desire to please everyone around them. Pacino expresses the chaos of that self through pink cakes, satin sheets, and old TVs playing home videos.
I Live Here Now is a film so specific yet so universal, a tale you can feel resonate in your bone marrow, shaking awake the darkest parts of yourself you’ve kept buried for years. It’s a film that actually understands the deeply personal trauma of existing in the world as a woman, extending it beyond the basic and tired tropes around pregnancy in horror. Pacino bears her soul here and you can feel it pulsating in every gorgeous 16mm frame. If this is Pacino just getting started, I cannot wait to see what’s next.
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