A mother prepares her son's favorite meal. But something's not right.


MYRTLE is used with permission from Patricia McCormack. Learn more at https://patriciamccormack.org.


A mother from Indiana is preparing her son's favorite meal, going through each painstaking step, from the washing of her hands to the chopping, frying and baking. But instead of the warmth and coziness one expects in preparing a meal, the kitchen is cold, industrial and full of equipment that isn't the best.

As Myrtle prepares the meal, she reflects on her life, her son and her background, revealing a background of poverty and deprivation. She also comes to terms with just why she is preparing the meal and the fate of herself and her son.

Directed by Patricia McCormack from a script written by Megan Barker, this short drama is essentially a monologue delivered directly to the camera, offering direct access to an often misunderstood type of character. She mostly takes us through the recipe, but as she talks, she weaves in reflections of her life, from the economic deprivation she's endured all her life to the troubled relationship she has with her son. whose own journey is encoded in Myrtle's reflections.

The set of narrative elements is pareddown to one character and one location, but the film is richer and more dynamic visually than that setup would suggest, with a moody, drab color palette and subtle yet revealing camera movements. There's also many small detail shots of the meal, from the careful layout of the ingredients to meat sizzling in the pan. Yet, combined with the pensive text and sometimes eerie lighting, these shots are far from evoking a sense of gastronomic pleasure. Instead, there's something almost surreal and unsettling watching these ingredients be mutilated and maimed in service of a meal.

The foundation of the film's power, though, comes from the writing and the performance that brings it to life. The script sticks to a telling specificity of detail, each small observation carrying immense weight in its ability to evoke a full character like Myrtle. Director Patricia McCormack plays the lead with sturdiness and an understatement that serves the film well, evoking Myrtle's stoicism as well as a certain thoughtfulness. But underneath this solidity of demeanor is a feeling of deep sorrow and pain, one that comes out as she prepares the meal, both as a gesture of unconditional maternal love and a farewell.

The final revelation of MYRTLE is less a reveal than a confirmation of what the audience has been suspecting. But it still accomplishes the work of a plot twist, as earlier details about Myrtle, her son and their background take on new significance. What begins as a gesture of motherly devotion also becomes a meditation of mortality, a portrait of the generational effects of poverty and an investigation into the meaning and value of human life. Myrtle is nourishing her son up to the very end, but in the end, we can't help but ask what one meal is in the face of an entire section of society deprived of security, safety and a sense that they matter.