Writer-director Haley Elizabeth Anderson is no stranger to the Sundance Film Festival. In 2020, she participated in the screenwriting intensive and premiered her short film Pillars. This year, she returns to Sundance with her first feature film Tendaberry, an indie drama following 23-year-old Dakota (Kota Johan) as she transitions from the romance of being one-half of a couple to the uncertainty of being alone in New York City.
The film opens with Dakota’s poetic narration playing over old images of Coney Island in its early days, interspersed with footage from the 1980s. Some may recognize the man behind/in front of the camera as Nelson Sullivan, who documented life in NYC, particularly the city’s queer culture. (This inclusion of a real-life cultural figure may seem out of place, but it gives more context to the ever-evolving New York City.)
In the present day, we see Dakota singing on the subway for tips, working her retail job, and spending time with her boyfriend, Yuri (Yuri Pleskun). The young lovers bask in the eerie stillness of an empty Brighton Beach and spend their time kissing and joking around. Other than their voices, the only sounds are heavy winds. This depiction of New York isn’t all hustle and bustle or anything glamorous. It’s a grounded reality that feels slightly ominous while also being a big playground for our characters.
Other than a few casual friends, co-workers, and acquaintances, Dakota and Yuri are essentially all each other has in the city, establishing how attached and reliant they are on one another. When his father falls ill, Yuri has to return home to Ukraine, leaving Dakota by herself. To make matters even more stressful, she discovers that she’s pregnant, a major inconvenience considering she makes little money and the baby’s father is in another country for an unknown length of time.
As fall becomes winter, we don’t see any of the NYC holiday magic typically depicted on screen. It’s just Dakota, pregnant and alone in a small Brooklyn apartment with unreliable heat, a place that was once their haven now a constant reminder of his absence. The seasons act as chapters in Tendaberry, showing the passage of time but also where Dakota is at in her life, whether it’s changing her hair or the size of her growing belly. Her situation doesn’t suddenly improve with rising temperatures, but she comes alive or is reborn in the summer. Each season has a vibe of its own.
From the beginning, we’re inside Dakota’s head as she narrates as if she’s reciting poetry or writing in a diary. Her thoughts seem a little scattered at first and it’s not clear how or if the evolution of Coney Island and the life of Sullivan and his NYC experience connects to her personally. All we know is that this is her story about how she’s unprepared for these life changes, and these unorganized thoughts and memories give insight into her character. She interacts with various people throughout the film, mostly patrons, co-workers, and the occasional friend (who’s also a co-worker). And just like the seasons, people come and go. All of them have a lasting impact on her life and rarely is their lingering presence anywhere near positive.
With DP Matthew Ballard’s close-ups and handheld cinematography, Tendaberry feels like a photo essay made into moving images that could easily be told without any dialogue between the characters. In some moments, images distort and video quality changes, becoming voyeuristic shots recorded on VHS. If it weren’t for the use of cell phones, video chats, and modern music, this could pass as a film set in the ‘90s.
Tonally and aesthetically, the film evokes the pensive isolation of Sofia Coppola and the raw intimacy of Larry Clark with a dash of the magical realism/surrealism of Michel Gondry. With Anderson’s experiential approach to storytelling and casting mostly emerging actors, everything feels natural like a documentary.
In 2021, Anderson discussed her passion for documentary-narrative hybrids and casting first-time actors. “It puts the actors on their toes because they know they’re not with a partner that knows what they’re doing,” she told the Sundance Institute. “They’re with a person who is going to react to what they’re giving them in a very real and grounded way.”
Tendaberry is an intimate portrait of loneliness and isolation that is just as dreamy and experimental as it is grounded and narratively focused. Newcomer Kota Johan delivers lyrical monologues with ease while capturing her character’s anxiety and heartache through silence and subtle expressions. Watching the film is like experiencing Dakota’s life alongside her, not as a fly on the wall but as an extension of her character. For indie film fans who love introspection, realism, and music, Tendaberry is a must-see.
Tendaberry premieres on January 21 at the 2024 Sundance Film Festival in the NEXT program lineup.
