APE CANYON

Stars: Jackson Trent, Anna Fagan, Donny Ness, Clayton Stocker Myers, Lauren Shaye, Skip Schwink, Emily Classen and Bob Olin.
Writer: Harrison Demchick
Directors: Joshua Land and Victor Fink

Rating: ★ ★ ★ ½

It plays cute at key moments, confidently relying on a sweet chemistry between the leads, but Ape Canyon is also a bittersweet tale of obsession, the kind that masks a deeper sadness and inspires men to acts of madness. Co-directors Joshua Land and Victor Fink let their narrative unfold in small increments, unlike the sweeping grandeur that author Herman Melville did in his epic tome Moby Dick – a work referenced in the opening frames and clearly a thematic touchstone for screenwriter Harrison Demchick.

Ape Canyon’s Ahab is Cal Piker (Jackson Trent), a boyish man struggling to cope with his mother’s passing. He hasn’t seen his sister, English teacher Samantha (Anna Fagan), since the funeral, until the day he lobs on her at work with the news that he wants her to accompany him on a hike. Out of the blue, Cal’s childhood obsession with the legendary American cryptid, Bigfoot, has been rekindled, and Samantha suddenly finds herself by Cal’s side, deep in the woods.

Samantha needs scant nudging to comprehend the whole endeavour is a mistake, and fate keeps trying to convince Cal of his pointless quest. Their tour guide Franklin (Skip Schwink) absconds with their valuables; fellow hikers, lovebirds Mark (Clayton Stocker Myers) and Gina (Lauren Shaye), are faking it in defiance of their romantic loneliness. Only Charlie (scene-stealer Donny Ness) has his heart, and bah mitzvah endowment, in the trip. But Cal, like Melville’s tortured and damaged protagonist, becomes myopically determined to reach the titular valley.

Trent and Fagan keep things light, even when more mature adults might have recognised the mental health issues at play. Their sibling bickering is authentic, in particular Fagan’s fraying frustration as Cal’s grip on reality. A few plot developments have that ‘only in the movies’ sheen (a jailbreak sequence pushes credulity), but personality and pacing serve to smooth over such moments.

Sasquatch die-hards will sense early on that, like the great white whale, our hairy hero is of most value to the production as a metaphorical presence. He comes to life briefly, in some beautifully crafted animation sequences (and a silly but funny dream sequence), but this is not the film to finally dispel the damage down by Harry and The Hendersons (Bobcat Goldthwaite’s terrific 2013 found-footage thriller, Willow Creek, came closest).