(On Cable TV, March 2022) As someone who’s been reading, watching, reviewing and writing Science Fiction for decades, I tend to be a bit harsher on genre work, even when it’s a low-budget Canadian effort. One of the characteristics of SF is that it does offer more avenues to criticize—and ways to fail. Compared to a work of mimetic realism, SF makes choices about the world in which it takes place, and those choices are fair fodder for criticism when they affect themes or plotting. So, when I tackle something more ambitious like Ashgrove, I can very well find highs and lows depending on which aspect is being discussed. Take, for instance, its world-building: It makes no sense. In an attempt to set up a global crisis that could be tackled on a personal level, it comes up with some kind of water ailment that requires characters to carefully measure their water intake every day—too little, and they dehydrate; too much, and they fall sick. Immediately, my picky brain starts thinking about distillation, transfusion, moisture absorption and such. But it’s best not to worry too much about the specifics: the point here is a global catastrophe so severe that extinction is on the horizon, and the only woman who can figure it out is our protagonist, who’s been sternly instructed to head out to the country house to relax. Once there, however, things are not what they appear—and indeed the film tips its entire narrative twist in two written words (“ukulele fight”) that lets genre-savvy viewers anticipate the third act an hour before it takes place. While Ashgrove suffers from many of the limitations of a low-budget effort, it does work better in its moments. Amanda Brugel is gorgeous (which always helps a little bit), with some good supporting work from such actors as Jonas Chernick and Natalie Brown. The script is often hit-and-miss, a clear consequence of the film’s loose shooting approach—when building to a twist, it becomes even more essential to have a precise script in place, and Ashgrove is not the first quasi-mumblecore effort to shoot itself in the foot in trying to match an overall concept with the actors reportedly improvising their dialogue. Some scenes make sense in the aggregate, but feel far less than punchy by themselves. The film’s highs and lows just keep rolling: I tremendously disliked the clunky exposition of the twist that opens the third act and I’m not a fan of how the film breaks its own spatial/temporal unity at the same time, but that third act does raise some intriguing questions that could have been better foreshadowed. The ending feels contrived in its execution, but the film’s final seconds approach perfection. And so it goes—Ashgrove feels like a wild rollercoaster ride of great ideas, mixed execution and some particularly poor choices. It’s admirable in the way it manages to tackle a world-wide theme in an intimate surrounding, but it’s clear that writer-director Jeremy LaLonde is working without the budget, discipline, rigour or polish needed to bring this to a better, more consistent level. This being said, I actually don’t want to be too harsh on Ashgrove—I quite like it despite its problems and quirks, due to its ending, ambition and ability to make a lot out of very little. If I still had a reviewing column, it would be a shoo-in for inclusion: It deserves attention from genre specialists, even in its current state. SF is a demanding genre, but it’s fascinating to see good-faith attempts at it.