An Extraterrestrial Journey at Your Local Bodega w/ Filmmaker Jack Nicoletti

Jack Nicoletti, Writer/Director/Composer,

concludes his final semester at Pratt Institute with his most thrilling project yet. That Little Bodega Next to Lorenzo's follows three college kids trapped in an extraterrestrial bodega. Nicoletti builds excellent tension between the entrapment of these characters physically and within their relationships. With his discography consisting of majority comedies, this supernatural thriller is a beautiful addition, with its visuals and storytelling depth. The film has been nominated for three awards at the Brooklyn SciFi Film Festival: Best in Brooklyn, People's Choice Award, and Best Original Score.

 I had the opportunity to chat with Nicoletti and hear how his love for 1980s sci-fi/horror films inspired him as a filmmaker and how sometimes old-fashioned techniques are a better alternative in the modern age of technology. 

The film did a great job amplifying the sense of suffocation between being trapped in the bodega and the character's constant bickering. What was the process of writing the story and emphasizing this feeling?

I really wanted the characters to feel suffocated; the whole movie is about feeling trapped, whether in a relationship or in a scary, shape-shifting convenience store/ I was unsure how I was going to show it visually, especially since the entire film is in one location. It's tough to make that look fun, but I just coincidentally rewatched 12 Angry Men, which takes place in this little jury room. The film starts on a really wide lens, and then, as things heat up, the lenses get tighter and tighter and tighter. The characters are trapped in the frame as it closes around them, undoubtedly a big inspiration. 

The film was beautifully shot, and the neon lights perfectly captured this otherworldly prison in which the characters found themselves. What were some of your visual inspirations? What were some inspirational films behind this project?

Well, I've always been super partial to 80's movies; that's how I got into film. I saw Back To The Future when I was 7, and it blew my mind. From that point on, I knew what I wanted to do, so all my biggest influences were those high concept, sci-fi, and adventure movies of the 80s. I think light is really cool, especially when you can play with color, and it's an excellent way to add contrast not just with shadows but opposing colors basically on the characters the whole movie, and that's always been my style. 

With such a small budget, I was surprised to see visual effects. What was the process? 

Since the old school movies influenced me, my approach to effects is to try to do things as practical as possible. There were a few shots that you could have done in 1982, like repeating the soda can, basically just the same shot over and over again, but we got her hand out each time. Even when Max levitated halfway through the movie, he was lifting himself between the register in one of the shots, and we just had a close-up of his feet. I think you can do a lot with a little when it comes to visual effects.

I greatly admire film composers; music is just a language I could never speak but appreciate. Do you know what you'll have for music in pre-production, or does it evolve as the project progresses?

Both my parents are musicians, so I grew up around music. Whenever I'm writing, music is important. It always helps me stay in the world of whatever I'm writing. My Spotify is filled with playlists named after movies that keep me in the zone. 

I started hearing the score on the first page. Even the theme for the movie, I recorded before we shot because I knew where I wanted to go with it. It's just a tool that helps guide my mind into the style, and when I could listen to it instead, I could help guide the actors as well, so that is what we're going for here. 

What was the process of finding the locations to shoot? Did you shoot on a practical location or sound stage?

90% of the movie was filmed on Pratt's campus, a convenience store on the first floor of one of the dorms. And Pratt was nice about letting us go in when they were closed, which was most of the time. We had free range of the store, completely unsupervised for three days. We were able to get everything in for free which was great. 

What was the greatest challenge in making this film?  

I think, the most difficult part of making this film was the actual subject matter. My prior work has been straight horror or comedy, so to branch out and explore this idea of unhealthy relationships in a film was nerve-wracking because the most important part of the film was for me to get the point across. That being said, I think that’s also why this is the film I’m most proud of. When I first came to film school, everyone was making these dark dramas that all had things to say, and I was making workplace comedies and ghost movies. It wasn’t until recently that I discovered this fun, grand storytelling style wasn’t something to discount, but it’s my way in. It’s the best way to express my deeper ideas and emotions. So, the hardest part of the film, hands down, was making sure it landed and was dealt with respectfully, but the fact that I feel like it did is what makes this film one of the most fulfilling experiences of my creative career. 

That Little Bodega Next to Lorenzo’s, will premiere at the Brooklyn SciFi Film Festival’s Best in Brooklyn

screening block on this Wednesday October 16th at 7:00pm at Stuart Cinema & Cafe.

Written by Ashley Murphy

Would You take... The Substance?

You might want to skip the popcorn while watching this heavy ride. This film may be the treasure chest of the body horror genre. The most creative, rude, and disgusting awakening to the subject matter is the great body image. The Substance follows the Hollywood star, Elizabeth Sparkle, who has had a long and successful career in a workout aerobics style TV show. However, in the world of Hollywood, her time is ticking. She comes across this black market drug called "The Substance" that claims to give her the ability to develop another version of herself that is younger and beautiful but has to switch bodies every seven days. So, every other week, she is loved by many, and the other week, she is her same self, but this constant switch between the new and old body ends up being tragic for Elizabeth's well-being. If you are someone who is a bit squeamish and can't handle blood, to say the least, I think it will be best to skip this grotesque masterpiece. Demi Moore and Margaret Qualley explore the premise of body swapping, and both confront their insecurities and ultimately question the wild nature of beauty and perfection. 

The story of Elizabeth Sparkle is heartbreaking to see unfold. Elizabeth goes through this insane procedure to be this younger, better, ultimate version of herself in Sue. When she gets to live as Sue, she doesn't do anything different from what she did as Elizabeth. She returned to the same job, looking for a new Elizabeth, and now, Sue has replaced her. She did not realize that going down the same path would eventually lead to her being discarded once again. The success that people strive for in the industry was something Elizabeth already had. She had all the awards, all the accolades, all of the fans, but all of these things are superficial and never last. She might have succeeded in this dream, but she is lonely at the end of the day with no family or friends, just her luxury lifestyle that didn't bring her true joy. The film's commentary is genius in tackling new, fresh faces coming into the industry. This is what makes the story so heartbreaking, not just reflecting the film but also society as a whole. It repeats the same pattern without ever learning all to reach this superficial beauty standard that is extremely unhealthy.

Dennis Quaid plays this high-up television executive named Harvey. His character is extremely misogynistic and very on the nose. His portrayal is a caricature, but intentionally so, because the director, Coralie Fargeat, wants men in the industry to be uncomfortable and reflect on it. Earlier in the movie, there is a scene where Harbey is eating shrimp in a dirty and disgusting way. He looks at other women in the restaurant in the same revoluting way as he fires Elizabeth. All this while, Elizabeth is expected to take this behavior, sit very demurely, and keep herself adjusted. There is a way he treats Sue as a product, something he can control, not a person at all. These subtle things about the movie are very on the nose, but seeing this shoved into the audience's faces and reflecting on the expectations is satisfying. The zero sense of shame men have towards their gross behavior.      

Demi Moore and Margaret Qualley deliver raw and challenging performances with the intensity to live up to unattainable societal beauty standards. The film blends humor and drama as these characters reflect and lose their way on the pressure of appearance.

We have all heard the saying, "Your worst critic is yourself," this movie has made me find a newfound kindness toward myself. I left the film feeling nauseous, terror, despair, and emotional damage. The prime is simple, but the execution focuses on delivering the same message each time with a higher stake than the previous. The unusual angles and immersiveness make everything seem explicit and extremely uncomfortable, almost like this was in 4D. The makeup and effects are insane and surreal, complementing the soundtrack and sound design. It is too real and creates this chaotic atmosphere.  

Coralie Fargeat did not want the film to be subtle; she wanted it to be confrontational, and she translated it beautifully and gory. The film is extremely in your face and is a big middle finger to the Hollywood industry, and I am so glad to all who watch it feel deeply uncomfortable. I'm unsure what film can top this soon regarding the theater experience. I look forward to seeing what Fargeat has in store for future films; no matter how gross or nauseous I may feel, this is a first-watch experience I will never forget.  

Written by Daniel Rojas

Unveiling the Layers of Jordan Peele’s Nope

Greetings Earthlings and fellow film enthusiasts! I think it’s about time we talk about the talented mind of Jordan Peele and everyone’s favorite film of his, so buckle up because we’re diving into Jordan Peele’s Nope, a film that’s far more than just an edge-of-your-seat thriller. This cinematic gem is a masterclass in storytelling, it’s a rich tapestry woven with complex themes, particularly the exploitation of animals and the continued exploration of Afro-Surrealism. As a film major with a deep passion for storytelling the layers of complexity that challenge our perceptions and provoke deeper thought, I found Nope to be a showcase in the subversion of genre expectations while delivering a thought-provoking critique of the entertainment industry and societal exploitation. Ready to explore how Nope flips those expectations and presents such a sharp critique? Let’s get into it!

The Spectacle and the Beast: A Critique of Animal Exploitation

At its core, Nope grapples with the theme of exploitation, particularly in the context of animals within the entertainment industry. The film follows siblings OJ (Daniel Kaluuya) and Emerald Haywood (Keke Palmer), who run a struggling family horse ranch that supplies horses to Hollywood productions. This setup is no coincidence. Peele deliberately places the Haywoods—descendants of the first motion picture jockey, a Black man—at the center of a narrative that scrutinizes how Hollywood exploits not just people but animals for profit.

The film’s most explicit commentary on animal exploitation is embodied in the subplot involving Gordy, a chimpanzee who goes berserk on the set of a 90s sitcom. This scene, though brief, is haunting. Peele uses it to encapsulate the dangers of pushing animals beyond their limits for the sake of entertainment. Gordy’s violent outburst is a direct result of the pressures and unnatural environment forced upon him, serving as a metaphor for the broader exploitation at play.

This subplot mirrors the main narrative thread involving an extraterrestrial entity that OJ and Emerald encounter—a creature they attempt to capture on film, hoping to profit from the spectacle. The entity itself can be seen as an embodiment of the commodification of nature, with the Haywoods initially viewing it as just another wild animal to be tamed, controlled, and monetized. However, as the story unfolds, the realization sets in that this creature, like Gordy, cannot be subdued or exploited without dire consequences.

Afro-Surrealism: Peele’s Signature Lens

Nope is also a continuation of Peele’s exploration of Afro-Surrealism, a genre that blends elements of Black culture with surreal, often nightmarish, scenarios. Peele has long been interested in how the Black experience can be portrayed through a surrealist lens, using this genre to address issues of race, identity, and trauma.

In the film, Afro-Surrealism is most apparent in the way the Haywoods are situated within the larger narrative of Hollywood. Their family legacy is tied to the origins of cinema itself, yet they are relegated to the margins, their history erased and forgotten. This erasure is surreal in its own right—a commentary on how Black contributions to culture and history are often overlooked or deliberately omitted.

The film’s unsettling atmosphere, punctuated by moments of eerie calm and sudden terror, creates a surreal experience that mirrors the disorientation often felt by marginalized communities navigating spaces that weren’t built with them in mind. The Haywoods’ quest to capture the creature on film is a desperate attempt to reclaim agency and recognition in an industry that has historically exploited and discarded them.

Moreover, the character of Jupe (Steven Yeun), a former child star who survived the Gordy incident, adds another layer to the film’s Afro-Surrealism. Jupe’s attempt to monetize his trauma by turning it into a theme park attraction is both absurd and tragic, highlighting the surreal lengths to which people will go to survive in a world that commodifies their pain.

Peele’s Masterful Subversion of Genre

What makes Nope truly remarkable is how Peele subverts the expectations of a typical horror or science fiction film. Instead of relying on jump scares or a straightforward alien invasion plot, Peele crafts a narrative that is as much about the characters’ internal struggles as it is about the external threat they face. The real horror in Nope isn’t just the alien entity—it’s the exploitation, the erasure of history, and the relentless pursuit of profit at the expense of humanity and nature.

Peele’s direction is meticulous, with every shot contributing to the film’s broader themes. The vast, open landscapes of the ranch juxtaposed with the claustrophobic interiors of the Haywood home create a sense of isolation and entrapment. The sound design, too, plays a crucial role in building tension, with the eerie silence of the ranch punctuated by the unsettling sounds of the creature.

The performances in Nope are equally compelling. Daniel Kaluuya delivers a nuanced portrayal of OJ, a man burdened by the weight of his family’s legacy and the pressures of survival. Keke Palmer’s Emerald is the perfect foil to OJ’s stoicism—energetic, ambitious, and fiercely determined to carve out her own place in the world. Their dynamic is central to the film’s emotional core, grounding the story in a deep sense of familial loyalty and shared struggle.

Conclusion: A Modern Masterpiece

Nope is a film that demands to be unpacked, discussed, and revisited. Jordan Peele has once again proven his ability to blend genre with social commentary, creating a film that is both entertaining and intellectually stimulating. By tackling themes of animal exploitation and Afro-Surrealism, Peele invites us to question the systems of power that shape our world and the ways in which they exploit both nature and marginalized communities.

In a cinematic landscape often dominated by formulaic blockbusters, Nope stands out as a bold, original work that challenges its audience to think critically about the stories we tell and the histories we erase. It’s a film that resonates on multiple levels, offering something new with each viewing—a testament to Peele’s genius as a filmmaker and storyteller.

Written By Chloe Kaleah Stewart