With intense, speedy cinematography and intelligent use of sound, The Novice is a sensory gift that keeps on giving. While the initial dramatic spectacle holds unique intrigue, it’s not enough to satisfy its feature-length runtime. The Novice is set to row into cinemas nationwide on April 1st.
In the midst of loud and overly brash fraternity culture, The Novice set its scene for a sporting take on psychological thriller. Heavily inspired by the likes of Black Swan, its visual nuance and intricate sound design create an intimate portrayal of the pressures of competitive sport. Despite the seemingly endless amount of drama, the film fails to raise the dramatic stakes in its 94-minute runtime.
College freshman Alex Dall (Isabelle Fuhrman) has always liked a challenge, majoring in her weakest subject in her first term of university. After joining the rowing club, she gets hooked on pushing through pressure and the value placed on being the best. In danger of alienating herself and teetering on a breakdown, Alex struggles to navigate the overwhelming mental toll of competitive sport.
At first glance, the subject matter of The Novice is rather mundane—living out your college years cinematically lends itself to whimsical coming-of-age stories, or a past someone would rather forget. Director Lauren Hadaway quickly proves this claim to be false, catching a rhythm of rowing that’s incredibly intoxicating. There’s an overwhelming darkness to its visuals, using shadows to hide the foreshadowing toil from full view. Its use of layered sound adds to the distortion of the mind, as it tries to capture the fleeting nature of supposed success that the self seems to recognise.
Not shy about beautifying and romanticising self-inflicted pain, the spirit of competition in The Novice anchors its dramatic narrative. There’s a harrowing subtext to a young woman throwing herself into something alien and gruelling at such a precarious age. Nail biting in isolated moments, the can-do attitude and glints at hazing culture culminate in a sense of robotic animalism, extending to the lack of addressing teammates with their full names. Athletic pressure seems an odd drug to be hooked on in college, though the nature of self-worth stemming from continuously working is only too understandable to appease.
While there’s a growing sense of entitlement as Alex gains confidence in addressing authority, her villain edit comes with a surprising by-product. Consciously or not, she uses queerness as a form of release—using it to escape her identity rather than figuring it out. It’s an interesting dynamic to see played out, working against the grain of the typical LGBT+ canon. Student teacher Dani (Dilone) acts as a worthwhile antidote, injecting a sense of charm and seduction that is almost absent elsewhere in the plotline.
Though its tension is always palpable, it remains on one note. The scale of intensity and dramatic stakes remains constant from the opening to the closing minutes, continually operating at the level of ‘wired’ that Alex consistently maintains. While this strategy is effective in theory, the overall outcome is less than satisfactory. The continuing crab analogy (referring to the rowing term ‘catching a crab’) is painfully apparent, and the final emotive punch needed in its closing moments doesn’t convincingly land.
Despite its structural misgivings, many valuable questions attempt to find answers. Alex’s childhood friend and roommate is viewed as burdening baggage, while her interactions with whoever she meets highlight the perils of being willing to go the extra mile. Constant voices consume the shaping of Alex’s world, while the brief instances on her own are singled out as picture-perfect snapshots. Nudity is used as a vehicle of truth, which tends towards religious iconography—rowing wounds on Alex’s hands appear like a stigmata, with her final physical breakthrough chained to her boat like Jesus to the cross.
With intense, speedy cinematography and intelligent use of sound, The Novice is a sensory gift that keeps on giving. While the initial dramatic spectacle holds unique intrigue, it’s not enough to satisfy its feature-length runtime. Self-mutilation is a concept that requires considerable effort, and while this is obviously present, it fails to build upon its own foundations.
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