Ink (2009)

Directed by Jamin Winans; produced by Jamin Winans and Kiowa K. Winans

Beyond the world we see, a battle is waged between Storytellers, who protect the innocent and bring good dreams, and Incubi, evil entities who thrive on misery and self-loathing. Into this war is drawn a man (Chris Kelly) and his little daughter (Quinn Hunchar), whose soul is kidnapped by a mysterious rag-clad creature. The race is on to rescue the child and discover for what purpose she was taken.

Having watched Ink previously, I did not go into it with that sense of wonder and anticipation one has at not knowing what to expect. Nonetheless, I marvelled at how well even the expected entertained me. Ink’s story is, in some ways, simply an adaptation of the ‘stolen child’ motif from mythology, but the script into which it is placed is original. A background-world is devised but not entirely revealed, leaving much to the viewer’s imagination. The script is not linear, making liberal use of shifts in time and place, and may cause confusion; most is made clear at the end. Ink’s script also has a message, not really subtle but not overpowering, either. It’s made clear in the line uttered by a Storyteller who, in response to a character’s comment on his situation, says, “…I choose to see you for what you were intended to be, not what you've become.”

The acting, by unknowns, is very good, especially by Hunchar; if the child had come across as annoying or unbelievable, the movie would have suffered irrevocably. Kelly’s histrionics may be seen as over-acting, though I disagree; his character is under much pressure and, as in many commendable performances, it is the quiet moments that show the most, both in story and talent.

 The most striking parts of Ink are the direction and visuals, which, though of course not identical, were in the charge of the same individual and utilised so closely together here that they should not be separated. Though filmed on a budget on $250,000, the flimsiness of the resources available to the crew are not apparent. The special effects are sparing but effective. The fight scenes are impressive, any inadequacies cleverly hidden in quick cuts and editing. The filming was in the director’s home of Denver. (When I mentioned this to an acquaintance, she, thinking I had said ‘Denmark’, asked if there were sub-titles. I said, no, but that was all right, as I could understand Coloradan.) If there are strong disadvantages to the direction, it is in the over-use of music-video style editing; it works in the fights, as previously mentioned, but becomes rather too familiar.

 The settings, trappings and costumes of the people involved imply much. The Storytellers seem to originate in a peaceful, rural environment, while the Incubi live in a sterile, hard world, their movements accompanied by the squelch of cheap plastic. The Storytellers are, further, ordinary-looking people; their opponents rather creepily hide behind screens of ever-smiling televised faces. The scene in which direction and visuals combine for the best effect is one in which a man’s slow, deliberate walk through brightly lit corridors is interwoven with the brutal battle going on around him, in a dark, sinister version of the same building.

To write these days that any movie is unique is probably inaccurate and misleading, but Ink has elements that are both imaginative and original, and if its execution is flawed in some respects, it in no way should deter anyone watching this entertaining and involving fantasy.