Rite of Way: A Hilarious Comedy of Socioeconomic Horrors

Riley Helm’s 10-minute horror-comedy Rite of Way does not exaggerate too much about the reality which inspired it. But curious times tend to call for campy theatricality, and this story about a cult meeting in a school gym to decide on a potentially lethal fate for one of its members elicits as many laughs as it does waves of empathy. 

A cavernous gym has yielded a corner to a scanty circle of hooded members. The Bowl of Fate decides who will be sacrificed to the gods of unholy labour, their chant tells us. They hold up candles—flames unnaturally still, doing little to dispel the chilly blue lighting—and follow the leader in honouring the ominous ceramic bowl. Sleek, cold, and utterly indifferent. 

Then enters Cherie. Tyra G. Morrison plays this disruptive force with the right flavour of sweetness so that Cherie immediately changes the genre of the scene. No longer foreboding, no more anonymous, and only a little mysterious. She is late, she is loud, she is Friendly—exuding your middle-class, next-door newbie with every word. She introduces us to court jester Ingrid (Sharron Shayne), scornful and kind Trish (Maria Pinsent), asshole Kyle (Steve Moulton), and very sad Dan (Doug Simpson). Dan The Very Sad, recently divorced, is the leader of this cozy cult. It is one of the last nights before the new semester at this high school, and a big decision needs to be made that will save all but one from a horrific fate for the next term. 

Pertinent and increasingly so if the political situation does not radically improve, Rite of Way hits major and related socio-economic beats. Budget cuts, indifferent administration, overburdened teachers, the declining quality of public education—and perhaps the most affective—the slow death of dreams. The actors do justice to the writing with the right combination of theatricality, comedy, pathos, anger, contempt, and sincerity. 

Yet, despite the bleakness and austerity from which it springs, Rite of Way is wonderfully lighthearted. Despondence is delivered with camp, criticism with the mild bite of scorn, and insecurity is varnished with pomp. The warmth is allowed to glow on its own. There are enough elements here to remind the willing of Ouran High School Host Club (a fish-eye shot stands out in particular). 

When a cult scene turns into group therapy, it is, as the kids call it, a recession indicator. 

Watch Rite of Way Short Film