Hammer to Nail Review: Again Again

Again Again is an official selection of the 2026 Seattle International Film Festival!

For their feature debut, co-directors Heather Ballish and Mia Moore Marchant unquestionably drew inspiration from the time loop film that defined the genre, but Again Again completely upends the premise of Groundhog Day by daring to ask the heady philosophical questions. What if the person stuck in the time loop is not a selfish, curmudgeonly, white cis man who needs to learn to love someone other than himself, but a young trans woman who can’t love herself? Moreover, what if after the loop breaks, she doesn’t just get the girl and live happily ever after? Instead, their relationship picks up in the messy place where it left off pre-loop; only now one half of the couple has acquired a decade’s worth of baggage that the other half blissfully forgets with the dawn of each new day. What this fantastic genre bender presupposes is, maybe the looper would have intense PTDS from this experience, that would only be catastrophically exacerbated by the sudden and unexplained end to the phenomenon.

We first meet Agatha (Marchant) on her 2863rd go-round of a day that follows a traumatic event. She spends a lot of time in bed in a yin-yang configuration with her unaffected girlfriend, Tessa (Aria Taylor, Charlie Says). Aggie is painfully aware of how long she’s been stuck because every day she writes the new number on her hand in permanent marker. This is a brilliant story device (not to mention a powerful repeated image) because it helps orient the audience as Aggie’s story unfolds through flashbacks. In fact, Marchant’s entire script is exemplary at metering out exposition. It’s not just what you learn, or how you learn it, but also when you learn it. As we jump through time with Aggie, we learn details of her and Tessa’s history at the most emotionally impactful moments. I don’t know how many drafts there were of this script, but it feels controlled and fine-tuned in a way that is very rare for debut films.

I’ll try to keep plot details to a minimum because everyone should be able to experience the thrill of discovery that Marchant’s script provides. But what we know pretty much right away is that these two young women were childhood best friends since before Aggie’s transition, and now they’re in love. But Tessa, who is cis, is also engaged to a cis man. Most of the film takes place in a tastefully and lovingly adorned camper van where the two women have circular conversation about their past, present and future. Most of these conversations have already taken place many times, but Tessa can’t remember. On day 2864, Aggie wakes up, looks at her hand baring the number of the day before, and realizes she’s free. But her freedom from the loop creates a whole new prison of uncertainty, as Aggie and Tessa attempt to figure out what this means for their future.

Again Again was filmed in and around Aberdeen, WA where Marchant grew up. Aberdeen is best known as Kurt Cobain’s hometown. Much of Kurt’s work was informed by the experience of growing up a sensitive, nonconforming artist in this backwards industrial burgh. The song title “Come as You Are” is a reference to the ironic “motto” emblazoned (to this day) on the sign that welcomes you into town. “Something in the Way” is about the deep despair that Kurt felt when he hid under the Young Street Bridge, which overlooks the “Muddy Banks of the Wishkah” (also the name of a live Nirvana album). A pivotal scene in Again Again takes place under Kurt’s bridge, which has since become a shrine emblazoned with fan-scrawled messages and even a plaque. Marchant’s deft utilization of this location is subtle. No character calls out its historical significance. But if you know, you know, you know?

Marchant’s Aberdeen is also sometimes quaint and inviting, such as when she visits Boom Town Records and flirts with the trans woman (Abigail Thorne, HBOs House of the Dragon), who works there. And because it’s the Pacific Northwest after all, the scenery is sometimes arrestingly beautiful, such as when Aggie kicks along the beach in her combat boots and flannel in the cloudy, cool morning. This town, like it’s inhabitants, contain multitudes.

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Really Weird Stuff: A Twin Peaks Podcast – The Return Part Nine, “This is the chair.”

On episode 40 of Really Weird Stuff: A Twin Peaks Podcast, we’re discussing Twin Peaks the Return: Part 9 – “This is the chair.” This episode was written by David Lynch and Mark Frost, and Directed by David Lynch. It’s best known as the one where we (sort of) find out what happened to Major Briggs and his twenty-five year plan to thwart evil. Diane receives a cryptic text from Mr. C, and Chantal and Hutch do real good. Special guest Chris Brugos joins us to explore such mysteries as: 

HOW do we always forget that Kyle MacLachlan plays Mr. C, too? 

ARE Chantal, Hutch, and Mr. C Kitchen Table Poly goals? 

HOW did Matthew Lillard nail his interrogation room scene so hard, despite claiming that he has no idea what any of his lines meant?

PLUS: Albert & Constance vibe weirdly, and a woman (Sky Ferriera) has a supernatural rash. 

Listen to the episode!


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Hammer to Nail Review: Mārama

Mārama is an official selection of the 2026 Seattle International Film Festival.

Writer/director Taratoa Stappard didn’t set out to make a horror film for his feature debut. But as he researched Māori history and his personal connection to it, the horrors emerged on their own. He discovered so much colonizer-perpetrated violence, that one thing became painfully clear. Any film that truthfully reflects Māori history is inherently a horror story. And, as with most historical horror, women get the worst of it. Mārama is a powerful film in every respect. Even though the villains in Mārama are exploitative, Stappard worked very carefully to ensure that the viewers don’t feel complicit. The narrative presents and honors the culture, while simultaneously conveying how it feels for wāhine Māori to see it ravaged by predators.

Set in 1859, Mārama follows the eponymous young Māori woman (Ariāna Osborn) as she leaves behind her adopted parents in New Zealand and travels to the coast of Yorkshire, England seeking answers about her birth family.  As Mārama walks down the dark corridors of her past, what she discovers sheds a blinding light on the grotesque ways the English decimated her culture and her people. The film lives in an accessible intersection of gothic horror, revenge drama, and historical fiction. It’s not an “easy” watch, but the rewards of sticking with it are immense.

With the opening, Stappard imparts a powerful thesis written in Māori and English on a black screen: “This story is grounded in the colonized history of v New Zealand. It contains disturbing scenes of the violation and desecration of the Māori culture. To move into our future, we must understand our past.”

After this, there is no narrative handholding. Stappard trusts his film and his audience. Next, we’re dropped into a dark, sparse room, looking down on a woman in a plain nightdress on her knees. Behind her is a broken chair. She drops a chisel to the ground and blood drips from her chin. But when she looks up, her eyes are filled with defiance. Through her garment suggests imprisonment, she has given herself moko kauae, a traditional tattoo for Māori women to honor their ancestors and heritage. She lets out a growl that is filled with the pain and vitriol of the thousands of wāhine Māori before her. It’s clear by her surroundings that this woman is not with her people. This is the only way she can reclaim her identity after everything else has been stripped from her. Upon rewatch, I am so grateful for this bold opening image, because it sets the tone for what’s to come. We will see colonizer violence galore, but the victims of it will not go quietly to that good night…

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Hammer to Nail Review: The Life We Leave

The Life We Leave is an official selection of the 2026 Seattle International Film Festival.

Since its inception in 1882, The National Funeral Directors Association has essentially offered two choices for decedents: burial or cremation. Within those parameters, there are customizable options, from expensive ornate caskets and headstones to cardboard urns; from grand funeral processions to intimate services. But the transactional nature of it taints every aspect and is very much contingent on what the families can afford. J.J. Gerber’s directorial debut, The Life We Leave, is a documentary that takes an in-depth look at one of the first companies in the world to offer a whole new way. Human composting is not just a green alternative. The “Return Home” model also involves and supports the grieving families every step of the way.

In 2019, Washington state became the first to legalize human composting. Return Home founder, Micah Truman saw a chance to get in on the ground floor of an emerging industry. He had recently left the tech world and initially entered the venture with that bottom line mindset. He came across a youtube video by Dr. John Paul, PHD, who explained his agricultural innovation for composting cows. Truman invited Dr. Paul out to lunch and didn’t even give the man a chance to bite into his sandwich before he got down to brass tacks. “Could you do it for people?” Though taken aback, Dr. Paul considered the question carefully and concluded that it was worth trying. What Truman didn’t know and would soon come to learn is that there is so much more that goes into funeral services besides body disposal. Or rather, there is so much more that should go into it. What “Return Home” offers is a way to reunite lost loved ones with the very elements of creation.

As of this writing, fourteen states have legalized human composting, and the companies that have sprung up accept clients from out of state. Most seem to charge comparable, if not significantly reduced rates as traditional funeral homes. Yes, the traditional places answer the phone and gladly retrieve your loved one at all hours, but after that, your involvement becomes very removed and transactional. When my own mother passed, she had chosen a place I never even visited. They picked her up, took my credit card info, followed her cremation wishes from her will, and mailed the remains. $2000 and a whole life burned into a box of ashes. The vessels provided, beyond the “basic cardboard box” cost extra. To have a service there cost extra. If you lose someone unexpectedly, these costs can feel limiting and blindsiding. But it used to be the only way to go…

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