Review: Test Pattern Is a Genre-Straddling Exploration of Sex, Race, and Power

Plumbing the murkier depths of systemic and interpersonal power dynamics, writer-director Shatara Michelle Ford’s feature-length directorial debut, Test Pattern, is nothing if not timely. But while topicality can sometimes hamstring a work of art, narrowing its scope and relevance to a specific cultural moment, the film sacrifices none of its urgency while shaking up narrative conventions in the service of a searing, yet nuanced, interrogation of the racism and sexism baked into our society at every level. And to achieve this, Ford splices two genres that are usually thought of as mutually exclusive, punctuating the detachment of realist drama with the expressionism of psychological horror.

Set in Austin, Texas, Test Pattern depicts how the relationship between Renesha (Brittany S. Hall), a black development director, and Evan (Will Brill), a white tattoo artist, comes to crisis after Renesha is sexually assaulted. With the notable exception of the first scene, which shows the buildup to her sexual assault by another white man (Drew Fuller), the first third of the film adopts the objective camerawork of a realist drama, following the characters at a slight remove as their relationship unfolds in linear time. The relationship may be shot and scored like a romance, but following that first scene, each development is awash in dread.

As the film’s narrative inches closer to depicting the sexual assault itself, the perspective begins to shift, capturing Renesha’s subjective experience. After she and a friend (Gail Bean) go out for a girl’s night to celebrate Renesha’s new job at a nonprofit animal shelter and are drugged by a pair of predatory entrepreneurs, the image lapses out of focus, with Ford’s use of slow-motion making every action appear heavy and sluggish as the country song playing in the background fades to a soporific murmur. Combined with the ominous way in which her attacker’s minimalist apartment is lit, these effects bend Test Pattern toward psychological horror, externalizing Renesha’s emotions through expressionistic film technique.

In the immediate aftermath of the assault, we remain yoked to Renesha’s perspective as Evan drives her from hospital to hospital attempting to track down a rape kit, ignoring her repeated demands to go home. Meanwhile, Test Pattern flashes back as Renesha reflects on moments from their relationship in a new and disturbing light. In one such scene, which evokes the aura of a romcom, Evan flirtatiously says that he’s designing a new tattoo to “brand” her with, adding “because you’re mine.” Its title may be interpreted in various ways, but in one sense, the film tests Evan, showing how patterns of ingrained behavior assert themselves in a crisis, as the rape apparently threatens his sense of “ownership” over Renesha.

In its final act, Test Pattern turns into a parable about the charade of American healthcare, its systematic reluctance to address the violation of black bodies. The police, called against Renesha’s consent, likewise do nothing to bring her attacker to justice. At the height of the film’s expressionism, “The Waltz of the Flowers” plays on the soundtrack as the couple languish in a waiting room. This chilling incongruity of soundtrack and image reframes the joyful weightlessness of the waltz, as employed in 2001: A Space Odyssey, to articulate disembodiment and powerlessness. Ford rips the rug out from under the realist drama and shows how the conventions of realism can serve as a vehicle of manipulation. When the film withdraws from Renesha’s perspective, shifting back into a more true-to-life register, it’s no longer possible to trust its objectivity, as an ambiguous ending turns the test upon the viewer.