“Your resume is quite impressive. If you were 21!”

Struggling actress Rose (Lucy Fry) finds her life upended by unexpected news. She’s suddenly forced to confront a future she never thought possible, just as a major career opportunity with top agent Cindy Abrams (Cara Seymour) comes into view. Things spiral further when her casual boyfriend, Travis (Matt Rife) brings his overbearing mother (Sheryl Lee) into the fold, pushing Rose to the brink. 

She flees to The Crown Inn, a crumbling motel at the edge of nowhere, where time fractures and reality bends. Haunted by sleep paralysis, splintered memories, and eerie motel dwellers, especially the enigmatic Lillian (Madeline Brewer), Rose begins to unravel. To move forward, she must confront the buried truth of her past that her body has never forgotten.

With I live here now, Julie Pacino offers a haunting and dreamlike psychodrama about identity, trauma, and the fragile line between memory and madness.

A Lynchian universe

Shot in vibrant 35mm with striking 16mm sequences, Julie Pacino’s feature debut is reminiscent of David Lynch’s 1990s universe. The strange atmosphere of the motel with its intense colors and dark corners, the ordinary places that look anything but normal, and elements that seem far too monotonous to actually be so, give the film an eerily haunting tone.

Then, there are the characters. Rose is a disturbed woman, searching for who she is and what she wants. An aging actress clinging to her dream is reminiscent of Mulholland Drive. The supporting characters are just as rich. The strange Lillian, as frightening as she is sensual, the completely neurotic Sid who works at the motel, and her scary sister or colleague are all memorable characters. Moreover, all the characters, with the exception of the mama’s boy lover, are women. Yes, the Lynchian world is definitely there.

Pacino still brings her own style to this dreamlike story. The film unfolds through a surrealist prism, blending humor and horror with Rose’s reality as she attempts to uncover her most intimate secret.

A blend of genres

Color plays a central symbolic role in I live here now. As Rose reconnects with herself, her world becomes more vivid and striking. Rose is confronted with generational wounds, self-shame, and internalized misogyny, all of which are represented by the different colors and characters of the inn.

Some of these characters, especially in the first part of the film, bring an element of comedy. The one through whom most of these moments pass is Travis. From the opening scene, while he is giving Rose cunnilingus, we are treated to an uncomfortable moment that makes you smile. He gives it everything he’s got, but Rose doesn’t react. Not even a little bit.

Then, as the film progresses, the comical moments give way to the strange and the disturbing. The dark colors of the motel and the bright bursts that break into the frame are destabilizing and lead the viewer into a twisted world where you no longer know exactly what is happening. The certainties of a simple story become blurred.

A little more…

I live here now is the kind of film that becomes a bit complex as the narrative progresses. It’s not a film to watch if you just want to turn your brain off, or if you are very tired. It’s a demanding but haunting film.

The grotesque kitsch side leaves a mark on the imagination (and recalls Wild at Heart), while the element presented in the opening becomes an increasingly blurred point on the horizon. Rose represents the heaviness of life, the difficulties inherent in surviving a life that is sometimes too busy. The characters are not just simple characters. They all represent something: a notion, a feeling, a concept.

Despite a few slow moments, this first feature film is solid and suggests a director of the strange who will have something relevant to offer in the years to come.

Trailer