Stall: Grief in Preparation for Unspeakable Grief in a Film on Gun Violence

Arlo Grey Gordon’s Stall is a triumph of writing in independent cinema. Shot in a single take, the 7-minute drama depicts the terror of crossing paths with American gun violence. It is keenly specific to the experience, and the camera that follows its protagonist, almost but not always to the depths of her helpless despair, telegraphs its urgency without flourishes, understanding its limits. This is at least one of the film’s core preoccupations as its protagonist tries to save her brother over the phone, her whole being insufficient to do much more than talk. 

Jules (Gabriella Kessler) is presumably away at college, and studying, when she gets a call from her elementary school aged brother (Chris, in voiceover by Raphael Sommer). The production design and lighting are kept minimal, almost underdone, and this author can say nothing more of it other than that they are significant, not to mention, efficient choices. The phone call is casual if unexpected, it seems at first, until Chris’ deep breaths start to sound a little too necessary. There is a shooter at school, the halls are deserted but for Chris, hiding by the vending machine. The voiceover is more than enough to conjure a picture of unparalleled, realistic dread. 

The ensuing minutes are little less than gruesome as Jules switches between her brother and 911, where being on call is an unstable signifier of help, but as the viewer is agonizingly aware, it can only take brother or sister so far. With the whole of the film focused on Kessler’s performance, she delivers, moving deftly from an ordinary day to a purgatory of waiting, and what’s more, navigating a disaster from afar. When Jules snaps at the 911 operator (Sesana Allen, also in voiceover) for not having more to offer than informing her that police are already on the premises (though they can no longer be shown on film as the final confirmation of the end of an ordeal), it may not be fair on the operator yet speaks to administrative apathy and its inconsequential handwringing. 

The apparent simplicity of Stall belies the intricacy of its writing and craft. The climax comes as an emotional whiplash unlike anything this author has recently seen. But it is more than a clever little twist. If anything, drawing out the final scene emphasises the cyclical nature of this particular category of violence, and the grey ethical area in which cinematic spectacle falls. A must watch, this author says. But then what, the film asks. 

Watch Stall Short Film