“COME DOWN MOLLY”: A Sporeprint of a Movie Review.

FROM THE DEPARTMENT OF PARENTAL PHOTOSYNTHESIS.

(Nested within “Reviews of Movie Reviews”).

Under the sub-column: PLANET PARENTHOOD

In Come Down Molly, a young mother overwhelmed by the pressures of family life contemplates escape. She joins a group of old friends on a mountain retreat, ingests psychedelic mushrooms, and journeys inward. What emerges is not rebellion or rejection—but renewal. She returns to her husband and child with joy.

We don’t normally review movie reviews unless they warrant ecological reassessment.

This one did.

Come Down Molly earns more than a few stars from this reviewer (Daphne Howlsmythe) for its ending, beautiful scenery, quiet sparse dialogue, and long periods of silence that feel like natural mycorrhizal conversations—felt more than heard. We especially appreciated the group dynamic in which everyone treated each other with a soft benevolence, bordering on the fungal: symbiotic, moist, and quietly productive.

It was perhaps the only aspect that was an idealized approximation of a desired reality.

Too good to be true to life.

We wonder whether the original reviewer actually finished the film. Judging by the title of her review (“Motherhood Is a Bad Drug Trip”) and her glossing over of the outcome, we suspect she missed the mycelial heart of the matter.

Because Molly returns. Joyfully. To her family.

ON VISUAL FIDELITY AND PSYCHEDELIC TRUTH

We include the photo below—taken during a solo walk in a damp wood outside one of our satellite Council retreats—because it reflects more truly than Molly’s cellphone what she might have seen in her altered state. Or what saw her.

The original cellphone shot was dim and washed out. But a little high-tech editing allowed the experience to shine through—as it actually appeared to the eye, or the eye enhanced by natural means.

In this case, enhancement was not deception—it was recovery. Recovery of the real.

Much like Molly’s journey, which was not an escape from motherhood, but a lichenous descent into it.

POSTSCRIPT BY THE EDITOR:

Daphne Howlsmythe may be ingesting too many Professor Irwin Corey YouTube clips lately, but we assigned her this review in preparation for a possible future in which parents are granted sabbatical leaves to commune with root systems, taste color, and return with a better metaphor for love.

FOOTNOTE:

(Prof. Irwin Corey Approximation):

“Now, now, let us begin, as we must, with the fundamental question—which, if I may say so, was never properly asked by Descartes nor, I might add, by my cousin Irving, who once mistook a chanterelle for a yarmulke—but I digress. The point is: when a mother takes a trip, she is not, as you might say, leaving, she is… branching. Like a root seeking moisture in the understory of the soul, she tunnels sideways into sensation, only to re-emerge—sometimes with spores, sometimes with snacks. And what is parenting, if not a recursive feedback loop of departure and return, of forgetting the diaper bag and remembering unconditional love? You see, the fungus doesn’t reject the tree—it decorates it. Much as Molly, post-myco-embrace, did not abandon the family unit, but returned to it as if it were—dare I say—symbiosis with a sippy cup.”

Reviewed by: Daphne Howlsmythe

Photographic oversight: Lefoto “Lee” Sfocato

→ Original Review: Come Down Molly – IndieWire