
A Midsummer Movies film directed by Jared Johnson.
A review by Matthew Webber
Do you recall the tale of Orson Wells' radio performance of War of the Worlds? When thousands of listeners believed they were hearing a genuine news report? The Transfiguration of Harold Maines is unlikely to cause widespread panic, but in a similar fashion, were you to come across it unexpectedly, you could seriously find yourself wondering, "Is this real?"
A thirty-five minute "mockumentary", TTHM investigates a strange event in backwoods Illinois. A man with a most unusual fixation suddenly abandons his wife and children, then a few weeks later vanishes in suspicious circumstances, leaving behind a letter, and a horse. Is this the bizarre suicidal hoax of a desperately unhappy man, or has Harold Maines somehow achieved his life-long yearning and transformed himself into a horse?
The film is easily and plausibly narrated, interspersing interviews with everyone who ever knew Harold Maines with dream-like excerpts from his final letter in which he tries to explain himself. The interviews are very nicely done, and offer a complete gamut of opinions and reactions – from old school buddy to the farm hand who now looks after the horse that is allegedly Harold, from college sweetie to the bitter wife who cannot, will not, believe that her once-husband could put her in this situation with his ridiculous fantasies. We hear the opinion of employers past and present, workmates, a self-motivation guru who sees Harold as his greatest success, and the New Age witch who alleges to have provided him with the potion that enabled him to transform himself into a horse. My personal favourite is the Harold's first high-school date who wistfully suggests, "Maybe I should go out there and give him another ride." Don't look for any Lucasfilm transformation effects here – you won't find 'em. But to have done so would have completely spoilt the tone and destroyed the illusion of a piece of investigative journalism done on a modest budget which lends the film its credability.
I must confess, I approached TTHM with some trepidation, despite welcoming the subject matter and following the progress of the film with great interest. This is subject matter that can touch a few nerves. It's socially acceptable to aspire to be something you aren't, if this entails becoming President or Prime Minister, film-star or brain surgeon. In these enlightened days, it's not so far out of line to even wish to change sex. But change species? As director Jared Johnson himself says, the notion is likely to be greeted with an anxious laugh. Wishing to become an animal is the province of childhood stories – and it stays firmly "childhood" because an animal to a child is a "cute furry thing". An animal to an adult is a creature uninhibited by morals: a creature that lives only on instinct: a creature that gives in to the urges we all feel but seldom admit to. One can indulgently smile at the child on hands and knees shouting, "I'm a dog! Woof, woof!" Put a grown adult in the same position and it arouses embarrassment and all manner of nameless, uncomfortable feelings.
But TTHM handles the subject very easily. It is not an embarrassing film to watch. It is by turns amusing, poignant, and thought-provoking. It can be taken at face-value, or as a metaphor for achieving one's dreams regardless of likelihood. Harold's wish to become a perfectly ordinary, nothing special, horse comes across as a very innocent and genuine desire, born of a conviction that he was somehow born into the wrong species.
And this is a film that draws no conclusions while suggesting many. I love this aspect! If you're a cynic, then of course Harold took his own life, and either arranged for his body to be somehow hidden and a horse substituted in his place, or he wandered, insensible from the contents of the potion, off to who knows where, and some stray horse happened to wander into his apartment – stranger things do happen. For those of you who don't believe that life is centred around Physics and Tax Forms, then it is patently obvious that Harold achieved his dream; that the potion worked, and he is now lazily cropping alfafa in a sun-drenched meadow somewhere.
And for those of you that share Harold's dream – and I know you're a lot more numerous than anyone would ever suspect – well, is this really a work of fiction, or simply a believable way to relate an unbelievable story?
Go see it.
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