Slamdance ’26: “The Plan” is an All-Out Pressure Cooker
There’s no point in skirting around it. Things feel exceptionally bleak in the world today. It’s not a particularly groundbreaking observation, but one that has loomed over the millennial, and younger, generations since birth. Writer/director Jessica Barr describes her Slamdance-premiering film, The Plan, as a manifestation of the “frustration and helplessness” that have much of the world in a chokehold right now. It’s a film that finds its characters at a breaking point. Desperate to do something, literally anything, they’re struck with the realization that they don’t even know what it is they want to do about the state of the world.
Courtesy of Sarah Whelden
The Plan is, at its heart, about a plan that a group of people have put together to shake things up. These people are not friends, not all of them. Some are lovers, others mere acquaintances. This mishmash of young, idealistic adults who don’t even have the bonds of friendship to keep them together is a recipe for disaster. Mads (An-Li Bogan) is the de facto leader of the group, with Emily (Eve Lindley), Evan (Ryan Simpkins), Taylor (Jordan Hull), Sasha (Arkira Chantaratananond), Liam (Percy Hynes White), and Toby (Logan Miller) rounding out the rest. The big event they’ve been working toward is tomorrow, but it’s unclear if this collective will be able to stay intact until then.
The most ambitious aspect of The Plan is not in its desire to tackle some of the biggest issues impacting social change in the world right now, but in the fact that it was shot in a single, uninterrupted take. The Plan takes place over the course of one night, the night before something is about to happen, as emotions are running high, relationships are imploding, and the looming fear of this grand event is causing them all to act irrationally. The camera follows the collective as they move from room to room within a Los Angeles apartment before going out onto the streets of the neighborhood, and then into the backseat of an Uber. All of it feels so fluid that it never seems like a gimmick, which often happens with single, uninterrupted-take movies.
Courtesy of Sarah Whelden
What this single take creates is a claustrophobic sense of dread. It takes about twenty minutes for the viewer to be clued in to what’s happening tomorrow, and it’s a perfectly timed deployment of information. At first the viewer is just watching erratic, increasingly stressed-out people come through the door of Mads’ apartment, and when the shoe drops you can hear a pin fall. The Plan, though, is less about the plan itself and more about how these young people ended up at this point of no return. Even though they seem to have a common goal, the fractures are obvious from the moment we meet each of these characters. If these seemingly-united folks cannot feel confident in coming to a consensus, what hope do we have for those with differing ideas?
The Plan exudes a sensation of paralysis. It’s a binding piece of filmmaking, both in its subject matter and its execution, its constricting and freeing nature. There is some catharsis in The Plan’s reflection on the fact that a plan or an idea is not enough, even though so many people feel that way. There has to be a real sense of belief and understanding behind the intent for it to make the ultimate difference. The Plan is a pitch comedy that plumbs the depths of contemporary fear without losing sight of the fact that it’s this fear and frustration that leads us to make our worst decisions.
Catch The Plan at Slamdance! Visit the Slamdance website for tickets and screening information.
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