Darkest Miriam
Written and Directed by Naomi Jaye
Starring Britt Lower, Tom Mercier, Sook-Yin Lee
Unrated
Runtime: 1 hour and 27 minutes
Opening theatrically in NYC at the Roxy Cinema on Friday, April 4th. Available digitally on Tuesday, April 15th

by Tina Kakadelis, Associate Editor

One of the great joys of being a film lover is the experience of having a movie worm its way into your heart and make you feel a little less alone in the world. It’s a magic trick that only a few films can pull off. When it works, you feel invincible, even if tears are streaming down your face after you’ve endured a rollicking emotional rollercoaster. That sense of levity, despite the hefty emotions, is what we all chase in the creation and appreciation of art. Seeing or hearing another person express feelings you thought only existed in your own brain is a soothing balm. Darkest Miriam is one of those films. It creates solace and community while observing the gentle weirdness of everyday life.

Miriam (Britt Lower) works at the Allan Gardens branch of the Toronto Public Library system. She’s quiet, ever-observant, and creates nicknames for the regular patrons. They include Usually Pale Female Patron (Susannah Hoffmann), Piano Girl (Sarah Li Wen Du), and Piano Mum (Anita Yung). It should come as no surprise, based on her naming conventions, that Miriam spends much of her time on her own, closed off from people. She’s recently lost her father and has found that the best way to avoid pain is to be by alone. That’s all well and good for a while, but then she starts finding oddly threatening notes around the library. At the same time, she crosses paths with a man (Tom Mercier) who catches her eye. To Miriam’s surprise, she catches his eye too.

Darkest Miriam, despite where your mind likely wandered when you read about the sinister notes, has much more in common with Wim Wenders’ entrancing Perfect Days than it has with a thriller. We’re placed in the daily routine of Miriam, and we also get to experience the joy that comes with having that routine disrupted by a new love. At first Miriam tries to keep this man, Janko, away. He was supposed to be a one-night stand, but she finds herself going back to him. The antithetical reality is that she’s hurting herself more when she’s closed off. Darkest Miriam is the slow process of a woman allowing herself to be hurt again, because that’s what we do every single time we start a new relationship. Whether it be romantic or platonic, we open ourselves up to hurt, but what is life if not the pursuit of connection?

As the film unfolds, “Being Alive” from Company keeps worming its way to the forefront of my brain. It’s sung by a man who, over the course of the song, recognizes that being alive means having someone who sits in your favorite chair, who ruins your good night’s sleep. To see Miriam’s guard drop, to watch her allow her life to become intertwined with someone else’s, is quite affirming. It’s not perfect, and their relationship is shaky at times, but it’s also about the effort that goes into this openness and the fragility of the human heart. As Janko says, “The most frightening moment of my life is now because I have met you.”

Much of Darkest Miriam takes place within the Allan Gardens branch of the library system. The library is one of the last public places where one can spend hours without making a purchase. It’s a beacon of art and community in direct opposition to consumerism. As worthwhile as the work of a librarian is, there’s a strange liminal sensation to spending your life in a library. The fluorescent lights, the limited windows, the outdated carpets, the endless possibilities that live in the words on the pages of the thousands of books in the building. It’s the perfect setting for a bizarre story of grief, loneliness, and mystery. All of humanity can exist within the walls of a library, for better and for worse.

Darkest Miriam is adapted from Martha Baillie's novel The Incident Report. Miriam spends her days filling out reports when Fainting Man (Igor Shamuilov) faints and other oddities unfold during the workday. When the film ends, though, these incident reports become more personal. The final moments are a chronicle of the parts of these characters’ lives that have had a profound effect on them. It’s a beautifully simple ending to a gentle film about grief’s many shades. Darkest Miriam is for the loneliness in all of us, and for the way we balance the wonder of experiencing something for the first time with the depths of our sadness.

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