Is there a way to protect yourself if you ever need an alibi? Would you be willing to enter a self-induced world of catalogued tapes, miniature surveillance cameras, and constant paranoia? That's the life Sean Veil has chosen. Since being a suspect in a heinous triple murder, Sean has videotaped every second of his life, diligently cataloguing every step he takes on tapes he keeps in a cavernous vault. Sean semi-rationally surmises that on the chance he were to be accused again, he would have some insurance. When another murder occurs close to the 10th anniversary of the crime for which he was accused, Sean finds himself in jeopardy again -- the one tape that would prove his innocence is missing. Lee Evans (most famous stateside as Tucker in There's Something About Mary) gives a mind-bending performance sure to surprise many. In a thrilling dramatic turn, he exudes a suspicion and vulnerability that you'll at once relate with and find frightening. In his feature debut, John Simpson proves himself a fresh talent, blending fast-paced excitement and slick production design in this hypnotic crime thriller. Simpson's stop-motion world of cold grays, blacks, blues, steel, and cement evoke true containment: a virtual prison where two-dimensions are safer than three.
Director's Statement Collapse
Shot on a wide variety of video formats from Hi-Def to mini-DV, Freeze Frame is an unapologetic immersion into the tape-trapped universe of a character in love with the camera.
Embracing, rather than fearful of, surveillance technology (to the point of attaching himself constantly to his own mini-steadicam device) he yearns for the intrusive eye of the lens and is never happier than when it's trained directly on him. This, of course, is the flip side of the sinister Orwellian notion of Big Brother, and I thought it interesting to explore this in the context of a thriller about a man whose principal paranoia was that a second of his life might go unfilmed. Tape-glitching, fast-forwarding, rewinding and, of course, freeze frames themselves were all utilized to make Sean Veil's strategy of defensive self-surveillance a visceral experience for the viewer and a fitting introduction to a world where to be off-camera is to be off-guard.