GO ONE HUNDRED MORNINGS "I knew it was coming," says a character in writer-director Conor Horgan's apocalypse drama One Hundred Mornings. "Still, I didn't expect it quite so quickly." The viewer is never told exactly what "it" is — war? An outbreak of disease? Instead we're dropped into an isolated cabin just outside Dublin, where two couples illustrate the ways in which banal but harsh human dramas (adultery, the ebb and flow of friendships, sexual bartering for necessities) could play out while the world falls apart. The grimness of the couples' emotional dynamic is reflected and exacerbated by that of larger and ostensibly more deadly tensions (dwindling food supply, shady cops, suspicious villagers and dangerous marauders), all unfolding against a backdrop of the Irish countryside gorgeously filmed by Suzie Lavelle. Horgan doesn't give many clues as to who his well-acted, bare-bones characters were before "it" happened, presenting us instead with people struggling and too often failing to hold on to humanity and decency. They're often hugely unlikable, unforgivably human. As the film works toward its negative Eden ending, having illustrated just how little a life is worth, one of its most potent points is how brutally destabilizing hope can be when despair has become the norm. (Ernest Hardy) (Downtown Independent)
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