One and Two: Why This Chalamet and Shipka Oddity Still Matters

One and Two: Why This Chalamet and Shipka Oddity Still Matters

Honestly, most people missed it. Back in 2015, way before Timothée Chalamet was a spice-drinking messiah or Kiernan Shipka was a teenage witch, they played siblings in a weird, quiet movie called One and Two. It didn’t break the box office. It didn't even really make a dent in the mainstream. But if you're scouring the internet for something that feels like a fever dream mixed with a Terrence Malick documentary, this is basically it.

The film is a strange beast. Directed by Andrew Droz Palermo, who usually spends his time making things look gorgeous as a cinematographer (he shot A Ghost Story), it’s a story about two kids, Zac and Eva. They live on a farm. There's a massive, oppressive wall. And, oh yeah, they can teleport.

What One and Two Is Actually About

Most folks hear "teleportation" and "siblings" and assume it's some gritty X-Men origin story. It isn't. Not even close. One and Two is much more interested in the suffocating weight of a strict household than it is in "superhero" tropes. The teleportation isn't a gift they use to fight crime; it’s a symptom of their desire to escape a father who is—to put it mildly—a total nightmare.

Daniel, the dad, is played by Grant Bowler with a kind of vibrating intensity. He's convinced that his children’s "unnatural" abilities are the reason his wife, Elizabeth, is dying of seizures. It’s a heavy, religious-coded guilt trip. When the kids use their powers, he doesn't just yell. He nails their clothes to the wall while they’re still wearing them. It’s a visceral, low-tech way to ground a high-concept power.

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The movie functions as a massive metaphor for puberty and rebellion. You’ve got these teenagers who literally have the power to be anywhere else, yet they are physically and psychologically anchored to a patch of dirt by a man who fears what they are.

The "One Screen, Two Movies" Effect

There’s this concept often cited in film theory called "one screen, two movies." It usually refers to how different audiences perceive the same events through different ideological lenses. In One and Two, this happens within the family.

  1. The Father's Movie: A tragic struggle to save his family from a demonic curse, sacrificing his children's freedom to save his wife's soul.
  2. The Children's Movie: A slow-burn horror story about surviving an abusive parent who uses "God" as a weapon to stifle their growth.

Seeing how these two "movies" collide is where the real tension sits. It’s not about the CGI "smoke" that appears when they teleport. It’s about the look on Eva's face when she realizes her father might actually kill her to "save" her.

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Why the Ending Still Divides People

The third act of One and Two takes a sharp left turn. Eva gets separated from the family and ends up in the "real world"—which, surprise, is just modern-day North Carolina. The sight of Kiernan Shipka in a pioneer dress wandering past a gas station is jarring. It confirms that the wall wasn't keeping monsters out; it was keeping the kids in.

Then you have the ending. Zac and Eva reunite. The father is dead. They burn the house down. Some critics at the time, like those at The Guardian, found it a bit lethargic or predictable. But others saw it as a necessary, if quiet, catharsis.

"It's an act of renewal," as many fans have noted. You can't fix a house built on that much trauma. You have to burn it.

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The Reality of Independent Filmmaking

Director Andrew Droz Palermo and his DP, Autumn Durald Arkapaw, shot this in about 20 days. They used a lot of natural light—candles, lanterns, and that "blue hour" sun. This gives the film an "unreal" quality that makes the supernatural elements feel surprisingly grounded.

Interestingly, Palermo has mentioned that he hadn't even seen M. Night Shyamalan’s The Village before making this, despite the obvious comparisons of "people living in the past within a modern world." It’s a testament to how certain themes of isolation are just baked into the American rural experience.

Actionable Insights for Your Next Rewatch

If you’re going to sit down with One and Two, don't go in expecting The Avengers. Go in expecting a tone poem.

  • Watch the background: The way the camera stays still while the kids "zap" in and out makes the powers feel like a glitch in reality rather than a spectacle.
  • Listen to the soundscape: The "sucking whoosh" of the teleportation was designed to sound like the environment reacting to them, not a sci-fi gadget.
  • Track the color palette: Notice how the "outside" world is jarringly bright and saturated compared to the creamy, muted tones of the farm.

Whether you see One and Two as a failed experiment or a hidden masterpiece, it’s a fascinating look at two of our biggest current stars before they were "stars." It’s a reminder that sometimes the scariest thing isn't the monster over the wall—it’s the person sitting at the dinner table.

To get the most out of this film, try pairing it with a viewing of A Ghost Story or The Witch. These films share that same "elevated horror" DNA where the atmosphere does more heavy lifting than the actual plot points. Look for the way the 4:3 aspect ratio (in A Ghost Story) or the natural lighting (in One and Two) forces you to focus on the characters' claustrophobia.