By Anastasia Blosser
Solemates is the story of a love triangle between a shoe store owner, a customer and an old pair of shoes. Or, as co-producer Torrin Blades puts it, the story of a customer who walks into a shoe store to update his wardrobe and “bites off more than he can chew.”
The indie short film had its world premiere at the 2024 Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) on Sept. 5 and was directed by James Rathbone and former Toronto Metropolitan University School of Image Arts student, Mike Feswick.
Feswick came up with the concept behind Solemates in 2016 while he was working on promotional content for Phile, an erotic art magazine he co-founded. He was experimenting with the idea of a sexy shoe store short film and discussed it with Rathbone but the pair didn’t do anything with it until Rathbone suddenly came up with the final scene six years later. Once the ending was settled and the script was written, the 12-minute film premiered at TIFF less than a year after the duo began filming.
At the beginning of the film, someone wearing a pair of worn-out Oxford brogues enters a shoe shop. A whimsical, romantic melody begins to play as the camera tilts up to reveal a young man. Inside the shop, a sharply dressed store owner fixates his attention on the old pair of shoes before flirting methodically with their owner as he tries to sell him one of the many pairs of dress shoes lining the wall.
When he kneels at his customer’s feet, the film’s sexual undertones become increasingly apparent. The way he slips a pair of disposable nylon socks onto the customer’s feet mimics how someone might put on a condom while he raises an eyebrow, licking and biting at his lower lip. When the customer says the shoes are too tight, the store owner reassures him that he’ll be able to slide “it” in.
Throughout the film, both directors are toying with ideas of sexuality and longing in a comical way. Although many stories treat lust as a prelude to character downfalls, Rathbone says desires don’t need to be stigmatized and secretive.
“It can be a light and fun thing, which is probably more in line with what a lot of desire actually leads to,” he explained. “Because even if it’s ‘weird,’ we want what we want for a reason.”
Feswick echoed his sentiment by saying he tries to unravel Victorian ideas of sexuality through his work.
“It’s not evil,” he said. “I always like to approach it using humour, having fun and just being open minded.”
Feswick and Rathbone describe their sense of humour as absurd, stupid and lowbrow but it still maintains a sense of sophistication. Rathbone believes it’s important to stay true to the basics of comedy and if there is a higher message, it’s not for the creators to determine.
“You’ve got to trust that you’re deep and then throw that away when you actually go to tell the story,” he said. “Serve the audience first, be entertaining and get them engaged in the story. If there is depth, that’s for them to decide afterwards.”
Feswick agreed, adding “I think film can be fun and silly and still make you think about serious things. I hope people just watch it and have a good time.”
“Even if it’s ‘weird,’ we want what we want for a reason”
Parts of Solemates feel so awkward and voyeuristically intimate, the only way to break the tension is to laugh—that’s what makes the film work.
The movie is blatantly sexual without nudity or overt references. Rather, the script is rife with double entendres that create a deliciously subversive atmosphere for the two characters to interact with each other and their desires.
“It’s stiff,” the customer says. “Grab the tongue, open the throat,” the store owner instructs him. His eye contact never wavers and as far as the viewer can tell, he doesn’t even blink. The two grunt and moan but eventually catch their breath and let out a sigh when both shoes are put on.
Richard Jutras, who plays the store owner, does an incredible job of creating a warm, kind personality out of a character who could easily come across as creepy and predatory under a less vigilant actor. Unfortunately, his co-star Garrett Hnatiuk falls flat alongside him. When woven into the sly, subtle nature of the script, Hnatiuk’s performance is borderline theatrical and out-of-tune with the rest of the film.
At the same time, the film’s gawkiness sacrifices any possibility for realistic discourse so it can stereotype and exaggerate tropes surrounding cable-network pornography. The creative decision to make the store owner’s fetish a source of humour works counterintuitively to the directors’ larger goal of deconstructing sexual stigmas. Sure, viewers might have fun watching the film, but it’s at the expense of sexual deviants they’re meant to identify with.
From kitschy animal figurines to antiquated retail interiors, the film’s set design captures the suffocatingly outdated store as if it was filmed just down the street. Solemates plays into the vague nostalgia surrounding the shop and the nameless characters populating it to remind viewers that the desires only satisfied behind closed doors run rampant in the minds of everyone they pass by.
At home alone, the store owner prepares dinner while reading a novel by Nicolas Restif de la Bretonne, a French writer who later lent his name to retifism, a term for shoe fetishism. When he sits down to enjoy his meal, the shot slowly widens to reveal that he is eating the worn-out shoes while closing his eyes and moaning increasingly loudly, almost orgasmically.
So why would a person eat a shoe? Because as the directors explain, he finds it delicious…of course.
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