‘Sunlight’: Edinburgh Review

Dir: Nina Conti. UK. 2023. 96mins

British comedian Nina Conti makes her feature directorial debut with Sunlight — and she brings her beloved surly monkey along for the ride. This most unusual romantic comedy-drama stars Shenoah Allen as a suicidal radio journalist on a road trip with a woman dressed in a full-size monkey costume, who insists that he ignore the person inside the suit. Uneven but not without its charming, touching and even kinky moments, the film salutes the oddballs lucky enough to find like-minded souls – but the story’s invitingly bizarre vibe isn’t captivating enough to overcome some clear narrative flaws.

 The picture is clever but not especially probing

Sunlight premieres in Edinburgh, which is fitting as Conti has previously performed at the city’s Fringe Festival. The picture looks to have a festival future thanks to its peculiar mixture of laughs and pathos, and master mockumentary filmmaker Christopher Guest (who cast Conti in his 2006 comedy For Your Consideration) has signed on as an executive producer. Although theatrical prospects may not be quite as bright, those who prefer their love stories to be quirky and vulnerable may find much to appreciate here.

Roy (Allen) works at a local New Mexico radio station but, as Sunlight begins, he has decided to hang himself in a nondescript motel room. Just as he attempts to take his life, he is rescued by Monkey (Conti), a costumed individual who speaks in a British accent. Regaining consciousness, Roy realises he is in the passenger seat of his van with Monkey behind the wheel, driving them to Colorado where Monkey has a business meeting. Pursued by Wade (Bill Wise), who runs the motel where the woman inside the monkey costume worked — her real name is Jane — Roy and Monkey get to know one another, although Monkey treats Jane as if she is a completely seperate entity.

Essentially a life-sized version of Conti’s simian character from her ventriloquism act, Monkey is consistently funny as Roy tries to engage in conversation with this ornery, foul-mouthed creature. Occasionally, Monkey unzips the front of the costume so the “human” inside can go to the bathroom or eat something, but Monkey never takes off the head and repeatedly denigrates Jane, insisting that “she” is emotionally troubled while “he” is completely fine. Roy may have considered himself mentally unwell, but he has found a travelling companion who is perhaps in even worse shape.

Working with a script that appears to have left room for improvisation, Conti creates some nice comic tension by staunchly adhering to Monkey’s strange reality. Quickly, Roy accepts Monkey’s terms of engagement, addressing only Monkey while acting like the woman whose hands or midsection he occasionally sees is some sort of foreign entity. But as they spend time together on the road, a romantic spark develops, which poses an intriguing question: is Roy falling in love with Monkey or Jane? Sunlight takes that dilemma to a surprising extreme, resulting in a weird/funny sex scene that understandably leaves Roy a bit disturbed and confused.

Allen, who collaborated on the screenplay with Conti, essentially plays the straight man opposite Monkey, and he gives a tender performance as a man grappling with unresolved issues regarding his deceased father. (A major subplot involves Roy and Monkey taking a detour to the dad’s grave so Roy can dig up his old man’s priceless watch.) Those familiar with Conti’s Monkey puppet will enjoy her more literally embodying the character thanks to the full-size costume, and when Jane finally ‘appears’ near Sunlight’s end, it builds to a disarmingly moving moment. 

Unfortunately, the picture is clever but not especially probing. These two lonely, unsettled individuals elicit our sympathy, but the ragged, episodic narrative — further diminished by some overly broad supporting characters — is a messy blend of some lovely sequences alongside several forgettable set pieces. Sunlight argues that no matter how dark life seems, and how unlovable we think we are, there might still be someone out there who really sees us. That delicate notion sits at the centre of this curious, hit-or-miss romance, and much like Jane, it struggles to emerge underneath so much artifice.