Trigger Warning: Meta Take One contains several instances of flashing light and visual distortion that may disturb photosensitive viewers.
How far would you go to make your dreams a reality? What would you give up or sacrifice? In a society that devalues its working class to the point that one almost has to have a side hustle in order to survive (possibly more than just one), a notion forms that unless one is hustling, one doesn’t deserve to make their vision for themselves come true. For some, chasing one’s passion looks like delusion, with the only way to flip that perspective being undisputed success. This is a critical element of co-writers/co-directors and producing partners John Dierre and Ryan Dutter in their feature film debut Meta Take One, having its world premiere during Atlanta Film Festival 2025. Part surrealist journey into Hell, part crime thriller, part dark comedy, Meta Take One challenges its audience’s perception of reality versus dreams through a cacophony of visual elements and narrative twists that makes one question which matters more: art, artist, or reality.
John’s (EJ Ezeruo) film is due to a festival the next morning and he still needs to get a final sequence shot and edited before submitting. Sneaking in with sound guy Mardin (John Romanski), cinematographer Tess (Aminah Williams), and actor Damon (Emmanuel Peeples), John sets up shop inside a convenience store to steal footage and get out. But when the shoot is interrupted, a simple plan goes to hell, taking all four of them with it, and the only way out that John sees is through, kicking off a long night through the streets of Atlanta, regardless of the consequences.
Emmanuel Peeples as Damon in META TAKE ONE. Photo courtesy of Atlantic Film Festival.
Shot on both 16 mm and digital, the majority of Meta Take One is black and white (the in-film real world) with the only moments of color being either when we see what is recorded via an in-film camera or when exposing part of John’s psyche. Shooting in black and white can be a signifier of cost (production budget), as well as intentionality with the point of the film, and the latter seems more likely here, even if cost plays a role. By shooting in black and white, Dierre and Dutter give the whole of Meta a nightmarish feel as the tale takes place predominantly at night, meaning that the characters are often moving in shadow. Additionally, the editing by first-timer Werner Van Peebles is often abrupt with a sharp cut to black signaling the end of a scene and the beginning of a new one, which starts to convey the same feeling one gets from a dream that adjusts and changes with little to no warning. As John pushes through the night to finish his film, dodging trouble of all kinds, where he is in Atlanta ceases to matter beyond the sense that he’s traversing a labyrinth made of city streets, neighborhoods, and backlots. This isn’t just metaphor, but a notion aided by an overhead shot of John’s car in motion, headed downward (based on orientation in space) with a shot of John in profile over top the film frame, creating a connection between the person and the direction of his life in that moment. Another frequent display is the film reel we, the audience. are watching distorting, bubbling, and degrading, evoking the sense that what we see is destructive or somehow illicit. The symbolism of the combined images and the far-reaching darkness in concert with John’s persistence to finish his film gives the narrative weight, though not necessarily propulsion. The snippets of color, primarily shown through the lens of the in-film camera, generate a perspective on John that he perceives life only being able to be captured and appreciated through the lens. What happens outside of the 1.37:1 frame ratio is irrelevant, uninteresting, and insignificant compared to what is captured and recorded.
This, of course, defines who John is and moves him from possible auteur to obsessive. The script from Dierre and Dutter slowly doles out information on John through interactions with others. The significance of what John withholds from his team (and Ezeruo’s convincingness of this fact) in contrast to what the truth actually looks like crafts a portrait of selfishness in John’s desire to make his film, expressing the worst of filmmaking. A director is ultimately in charge of the entire set, of all things that occur on it, though larger productions will have department heads in place to oversee things like script coordination, costumes, set dressing, and props, whereas a smaller one (such as John’s) might not. Where department heads may take on the responsibility of managing the crew within their department, the responsibility always falls on the director. As presented here, John is not only incapable of finishing his film on time and within his budget, he’s incapable of taking responsibility for any aspect of his set. For instance, the set location John uses at the start of the film is entirely stolen, a tactic used in the filmmaking world of shooting on-site without permissions or license. This initially serves to illustrate just how low-budget/guerrilla this shoot is (a strategy that’s worked for countless filmmakers since the invention of the kinetograph), while also setting up just how in over his head John is. Ezeruo gives a commendable performance as John needs to be someone we want to believe in and remain interested in, even as his choices and obsession draw him toward greater tragedy. For his part, Peeples is remarkable as Damon, portraying someone who’s arc involves that of true horror as Damon’s fate is disproportionately tied to John’s. Peeple’s makes us want to rage alongside Damon and console him at the same time.
EJ Ezeruo as John in META TAKE ONE. Photo courtesy of K Porch Pictures.
In the interest of keeping things spoiler-free, there’re even more moments that imply a breakdown of reality through multiple in-frame techniques. The construction and application of several remind of what Darren Aronofsky used for his 2006 feature The Fountain to create the illusion of deep space and interstellar travel in-camera, while others evoke the surrealism of Luis Buñuel and Salvador Dalí’s co-created 1929 short Un Chien Andalou, in which a woman appears to have her eyeball slit with a razor blade. There’s a creeping grotesqueness in the text and imagery, overt and subvert, explained and left lingering, coursing throughout Meta Take One, often to the detriment of the film itself whose momentum stops and starts with each setback for John and each opportunity to do the right thing. Thos tapped into the filmmaking world might notice something reminiscent of The Crow (1994) or Rust (2024), a huge ick that says a lot about John. Being dialed-in means that this inclusion does create a sizable distraction, but, for those less attune, it certainly makes plain why John is on a fast track to the underworld.
Sometimes we come to the theater to see affirmative magic with protagonists saving the day and sometimes we come to the theater for a darker experience, which is what Dierre and Dutter offer. Through an intelligent script and strong co-lead performances, Meta Take One is an invitation to journey into creativity where the characters are asked to sacrifice greatly for their craft. But isn’t that what artists are expected to do? Suffer? In this way, like Aronofsky’s The Fountain, Dierre and Dutter present a road to awe through obsession that leads to unrelenting degradation. Does this make good art? That’s up to the audience to decide. For now, however, it’s clear that Dierre and Dutter have big ambitions and, with luck, the temerity to make it happen without resulting in true crime headlines.
Screening during Atlanta Film Festival 2025.
For more information, head to the official ATLFF Meta Take One webpage.
Final Score: 4 out of 5.
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Categories: In Theaters, Reviews
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