You’re never obligated to be a fan when a friend makes a piece of art. I hold that uncomfortable truth close to my heart as a means of protecting myself. In spite of this, I find myself giving a chance to anything a friend produces…just the kind of consumer I am.

            Noah Nichols is a friend of mine, so up front is an admission of bias. We met in 2007 when his band came to record at a studio where I was interning. We lost touch after that, but somewhere around 2016 he stumbled upon one of my books and remembered who I was. We became friends over our shared pursuits and he has edited two pieces of my written work.

            Aside from writing and music, Noah has decided to embark on the medium of film. He spent a great deal of time making this movie in the midst of personal turmoil; a second upheaval of his life in as many years had landed him in depression. He threw himself into this project as a means of staying distracted, and it worked to a degree. This film project outright consumed him. When he announced the premier, I made plans to be there.

            Lonely Legend is a movie that follows a would-be serial killer simply named Impervious. This masked character is tasked with carrying on the family tradition of surfacing in a fifteen-year cycle to hack and slash his way through a small town. His father before him had been this killer, but the torch isn’t so easily passed.

            Our contemporary Impervious wants to live up to familial expectations. He wants to be this killer, but every little interaction with a would-be victim brings out empathy that prevents him from being violent. When simply asked what he’s doing with a crowbar, or waved at from the side of the road, Impervious drops the façade and recoils.

            Impervious has pressure put on him by his family. At one point he tells his father over the phone, “I’d rather take care of animals than kill people.” This admission is dismissed as being irritably hungry, but as the film continues it’s all too clear that this incarnation of Impervious isn’t up to the task.

            The only notable violence in the film is our main character letting off steam on a teddy bear or inflatable toy he carries around with him for companionship. These instances reveal our would-be killer can separate his projection of friendship onto an object from the real people he cannot bring himself to harm, in spite of the genuine care he has for these inanimate companions.

            Impervious holds a lot of anger over expectations placed on him to continue on with family tradition, when all he seeks out is a more peaceful experience. He goes on walks with nature, lets out his aggression in ways that don’t hurt others, plays music/indulges in art, and gives himself permission to, “go to a field and be sad.”

            There’s a longing for something more than the predetermined horrors that are expected of him. He breaks into a number of houses when no one is home, presumably to follow through on his “mission,” yet he can’t seem to follow through.

            There’s comedy as well. Situational mishaps arise as Impervious tries to find himself while out and about. It bridges the gap and showcases a most human experience from a character built to be a monster.

            The soundtrack was fantastic. Music helped to convey the mood perfectly, and while Noah could’ve filled out the film with his own music, he pulled resources from every direction as a means of conveying the mood as it fit his vision.

Pictured: Myself with Impervious (Noah Nichols) at the premier of Lonely Legend in Columbus, Ohio.