Shooting Heroin

By: Kelly Kearney

An anti-drug film from spiritual faith writer/ producer Spencer T. Folmar mixes fear of the ever growing opioid epidemic ravishing working class America with a melodramatic revenge plot that spends more time glorifying violence against addicts then it does trying to tell a story that can bring awareness to the war many small towns are trying to fight. Shooting Heroin injects its ideological question: Does mercy heal the addict or, like a virus, is eradication the only way to stop the endless wave of death?

Shooting Heroin is driven by the desperation of main character Adam (Adam Powell), a single father and war veteran who has returned home to the decimated and drugged out Whispering Pines, Pennsylvania. It is a small depressing town struggling with typical rust belt issues – poverty, loss of employment and, now, the biggest employer in the region; the drug dealer. The town has reached the height of this epidemic and it’s choking the very life out of Adam and his family. The feeling of hopelessness comes across in each moody and desolate shot of the film. There is no bright side to this story, Adam’s feelings are mirrored in every dusty road and barren landscape he passes by. The soul of this town has been sucked dry and that story is told through the atmospheric doom and gloom of the camera. Loss of life and loss of hope is what this town knows and it’s what Adam is slowly suffocating from. That is what we soon find out when Adam’s sister (Daniella Mason), a recovering addict, falls off the wagon after an accident that lands her in the hospital. He’s has been through this before with her and, like all people who love an addict, the relapses can be harder for the family members than it is on the addict themselves. When his sister chooses drugs over her hard-fought sobriety, Adam loses all hope for his town and for any chance the law could hold its heroin slinging cretins accountable.

His pain is shared by local mother Hazel (Sherilyn Fenn), who lost both of her sons to (as she describes) “the same needle.” When Adam suffers a los, he has nothing but hate for the people he feels are responsible – mainly the local drug dealers that seem to keep beating the system. Luckily, Adam has connections in the police force. After hearing corrections officer Edward (Lawrence Hilton-Jacobs) complain about the prison filled to the brim with dealers, Adam convinces his buddy cop Jerry (Garry Pastore) to deputized him and Hazel for their new mission…to stop the flow of drugs.

It seems like a good idea to join forces with the town’s grieving mother. Who better than Hazel to understand Adam’s pain and get the local townsfolk to listen and trust them? Where the former soldier is fueled by hate and anger, Hazel is fueled by the memory of her children. She craves meaning in her losses and hopes by telling others about her experiences she might just scare people away from the needle. Unfortunately for Hazel, that kind approach doesn’t work and that leaves her ripe for the picking and in a perfect position to partner with Adam. The two couldn’t be more different but together, they decide to shake up Whispering Pines with a little plan the locals call “hillbilly justice.” With no real legal recourse to force these dealers from their town, Hazel and Adam combine their efforts to take back their hometown by any means necessary.

The film has a few stirring performances from some heavy hitting actors, mainly from Powell, Fenn and Adam’s mother (Cathy Moriarty) who are a juxtaposition in nature and play well off each other. Where Hazel is soft spoken and full of maternal guilt, Adam and his mother are simmering pots just begging to boil over and incinerate everyone in their path. Where Powell brings the heat, Fenn is the cooling water that douses his flames. And Moriarty is the lit match that sparks his need for vigilante justice. Adam’s raging intensity is tangible and it rears its ugly head in every scene. It’s especially on display when he’s confronted by his disappointed mother (Cathy Moriarty). The two have emotional tete-a-tete and it’s the one time in the film that their anger, while present, takes a backseat to the crushing pain and resentment they’re left with. Where Moriarty is harsh and unforgiving, the family priest (played by Nicholas Turturro) is the sounding board for reason in the film as he tries to help navigate this broken family into a place of peace and forgiveness. Each of characters in this film have an unending desire to ease their pain, but how they go about it is personal to them and the actors do their best to breathe life into the often predictable and flat words on the page.

When it comes to fear and hate (two emotions that feed into of our basic human need for revenge), Shooting Heroin succeeds in proving that humans, in our simplest forms, often handle emotional upheavals with violence and ignorance. Where the film fails is in its delivery of any sort of understanding as to why this drug battle is being fought and lost in the first place. There is no awareness for the cause, just the effect and the emotions those losses bring. In a region that has seen an economic downturn that robbed its citizens of their pride, Shooting Heroin misses the perfect opportunity to shine light on why and how this became a struggle in regions like Whispering Pines. It never even tries to explain how the needy and depressed in rural America have no access to mental health care or any opportunity to pull themselves up from their bootstraps while walking on bare feet. Drugs help numb pain and, when it comes right down to it, survival belongs to those who can afford it. We live in a society that functions on a free market, demand and supply. As manufacturing jobs (the life force of blue-collar America) gave way to the tech boom, millions were stuck with making ends meet any way they could. We can look throughout history track similar instances where economic disparity led to a rise in addictions. Nobody recognizes the signs more than small town America. It is a familiar monster that has reared its ugly head since bootleggers eased the hunger of the Great Depression. It’s easy to blame the low-level pusher while forgetting about the government policies that cleared the path for these issues to fester. Shooting Heroin throws gasoline on a long simmering fire without ever asking the question: is the fist mightier than the heart or is compassion, community and opportunity the driving force of change in towns like Whispering Pines?

Outside of the moody shots, talented cast and beautifully barren locations this film is not successful in its goal to shine a light on an epidemic that has destroyed the lives of so many. I wouldn’t recommend Shooting Heroin, especially if you or your loved ones have been on the front lines of this opioid war. If Folmar wanted to bring enlightenment to the masses, he missed the mark with this drama.