Ms. White Light | SXSW 2019 Film Review

I’ve often said that one of the most cathartic aspects to attending film festivals – SXSW in particular – is finding those little diamonds in the rough. Films with minuscule budgets or marketing resources, first-time filmmakers, actors you’ve never heard of, undiscovered talents. The glitz of Hollywood blockbusters get all of the press, but it’s these up-and-comers that I love to uncover. Every year, at least one of these gems pops up, and 2019 was no different once the credits rolled on Ms. White Light.

Working in conjunction with her father – in matching suits, no less – Lex Cordova (Roberta Colindrez) has a very unique skill…she prepares people for death. By the title you might believe this to be a brand of psychic phenomena, but in truth it simply means that Lex has an ability to empathize with a person’s innate fear of the unknown, and opens herself up to understanding the underbelly of their soul and assist them in overcoming their dread. When a new client arrives in the form of Val (Judith Light), a dying woman seemingly lacking in concern about her eventual demise, Lex makes it her mission in life to ascertain exactly what it is that Val is desperately searching for.

If this description has your tear ducts welling up in anticipation of a torrential downpour of emotions, you can relax. While Ms. White Light has its fair share of turmoil, writer and director Paul Shoulberg wisely injects a hefty amount of levity into his script for balance. The importance of this equalization in the presence of such stark subject matter cannot be understated; it’s essential to the embracing of a film like this. Too grim, and it can become overbearing. Too light, and the likelihood of taking the material seriously dissipates.

Several expanded single takes exemplify this attention to craft; as the camera fixates on Lex and her father’s relationship while they eat a meal in their shared home or lounge in the office discussing random ideas and potential plans, the banter bounces between alternating pitches with relative ease. Shoulberg has a steady grasp on his story, and it pays off with an unusually addictive tone, constantly riding a similar line of battering back-and-forth between despair and melancholy.

Shoulberg has also wisely assembled a supporting cast of thespians with a clear understanding of his goals. As Gary, Lex’s father and business partner, the always engaging John Ortiz wears the heart of the film on the sleeves of his gloriously outdated brown suit coat. Gary wants to expand their clientele, maybe even get an assistant who can whip up a great cup of coffee, but he never puts dollars above the needs of his daughter. Like many fathers, Gary understands the gift Lex possesses, and the benefits to society at large, yet he keeps a watchful eye on her overall state. In lesser hands, Gary’s constant mentions of expansion could come across as selfish, but Ortiz’s warm, welcoming demeanor and casual smile illuminate the truth under that coat; Gary would end it all tomorrow if he felt his daughter was wearing too great a burden.

Further complimenting the proceedings is Judith Light as Val, disappearing in her role as the beguiling patient who refuses to show her cards. Light portrays a woman of boundless spirit with bewildering motives, and also a person who can somehow empathize with Lex’s socially deficient persona. With disposable income and limited time, Val perplexes not only Lex, but also Spencer (Zachary Spicer), a local psychic Val enlisted for her inevitable end game. In essence a con man giving solace by feeding the starving, Spencer becomes entranced by both Val and Lex, and Spicer’s charming snark and handsome smirk evokes memories of early 80s Cary Elwes.

All of those words to finally arrive at the doorstop of Roberta Colindrez. As Lex, the actress opens the film with a powerfully meditative farewell to a client. As she attempts to leave, a family causes Lex to abandon self-restraint and unleash a relentless stream of hysterical truths no one can fully absorb at such a troubling time. It’s a risky proposition to open your movie with your main character chastising a family in front of their newly deceased mother, and only one you can deliver with an actor of considerable skill. Colindrez pulls this off over the course of the film, time and time again.

The entirety of Ms. White Light hinges on Roberta Colindrez’s breath-taking performance. She eschews every likeable characteristic – she’s rude, curt, rarely fiddles with her mountain of hair, and snips at even a mere mention of genuine closeness – and we love her more the further out of bounds she goes. Even as a former client returns to honor her misguided Samurai code of repaying a debt and Lex repeatedly derides this survivor, Colindrez somehow chokeholds us back to her side with her wry mix of devilish delight. It is a phenomenal and often hilarious performance rife with hubris and humanity that is the driving force of every aspect in the film, and one that has stuck with me long after my screening concluded.

I can honestly say I have never seen this story told on film before, and how rare is that in a world of non-stop content? Director Paul Shoulberg’s film is a haunting tale detailing the constant struggle with our own mortality, and our reluctance to accept our eventual fate. Carried by the daring lead performance from Roberta Colindrez, Ms. White Light is an early favorite as one of the best films of 2019.