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MERCY-FUL FATE FOR FILMMAKER PATRICK RODDY

By Patrick Green

A nice, blood-soaked pat on the back for those who recognized the above reference to a relatively obscure eighties satanic metal band. “Mercy” is a nightmarish little gem from filmmaker Patrick Roddy, a UCLA grad by way of Idaho .

Here at “The Book”, as we the staff like to call it, we get a lot of what could be called “fringe” stuff, the kind of thing that the other sites don’t spend much time on because, well, because the other other sites don’t spend much time on them. “Mercy”, is a noirish nightmare that totally ignores many narrative rules, and yet –surprise!- is completely enthralling.

The plot deals with a freshly released con named John Mercy, who takes residence at a halfway house in a dying industrial town. There he meets a quirky would-be actress who awakens old desires, not all of which are healthy. Mercy’s nightmares lead him to the street corner drug dealer, whose wares in turn amplify his nightmares.

As played by Gary Shannon, “Protagonist” John Mercy is no pretty boy from the WB, but a brooding, weathered man with sad features, as if he is constantly reflecting on his troubled past.

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Imagine you’re sitting in a small playhouse; three hundred or so seats. The curtain rises and the performance begins. But instead of spewing confounding Shakespearean soliloquies or clever Neil Simon repartee, the actors steer the drama in a decidedly morbid direction. A few minutes in, the action has escalated, taking even nastier turns. An actress, her screams slicing through the small theatre like a scalpel, struggles against the ropes that bind her to a chair, as a top-hatted fiend goes to work on her face with hooked fingers, bent toward her with his back turned to conceal her teary countenance from you, the paying customer and casual observer.