At first glance, not a whole lot happens in Molly Muse and Britt Harris’s short drama Wrap Me in a Sheet. Yet within 16 minutes, the two filmmakers manage to convey a lifetime of resentment, guilt, and a deep desire for redemption. Using mere brush strokes, they paint a vivid and sorrowful portrait.
Sisters Taylor (Harris) and Faye (Muse) take care of each other. Moreover, they seem reliant on each other. They travel to Washington state and immerse themselves in inconsequential activities: playing mini-golf, racing go-karts, strolling. “I think I’m ready,” one of them finally states.
They get shovels. They drive along the beach until they seem to find the spot they’re looking for. Inside their trunk is – well, perhaps it’s better left unsaid what exactly is inside the trunk – considering the minimalist nature of the film. Let’s just say they have to bury something, and in the process unravel something else.
With barely any dialogue and next-to-no exposition, Muse and Harris paint a cohesive picture of two siblings balancing on the precipice of salvation. Refreshingly, the filmmakers prefer their imagery to do the talking: the despondent, beautiful Washington coastlines and forests are crisply, atmospherically portrayed.
Wrap Me in a Sheet emphasizes the importance of familial support. It functions as a succinct meditation on the perils of parenting (“Hey, remember when she left me at a gas station?”). It all hinges on the quietly effective performance of the two leads, and they certainly deliver. That cold shower in the finale seems to have washed off the demons of their past and given the sisters a semblance of redemption. With any luck, the poetic little film will open up new horizons for the duo in reality as well.
