Grief is messy. It isn’t a slow-motion montage of a person crying in the rain while a cello plays in the background. It's actually a lot weirder than that. Honestly, it’s mostly just hot, sticky, and incredibly uncomfortable. That is exactly what the 2017 film One Percent More Humid gets right. It captures that specific, suffocating feeling of being stuck in your hometown during a summer that won’t end, carrying a secret that feels like it’s rotting from the inside out.
I remember watching this for the first time and thinking how different it felt from the typical "indie darling" coming-of-age story. Directed by Liz W. Garcia, the movie stars Juno Temple and Julia Garner—two powerhouses who, frankly, deserve way more credit for their work here. They play Iris and Catherine, childhood best friends returning to their humid New England town for summer break. But they aren't just home to drink beer by the lake. They are haunted.
The plot centers on a past tragedy that they haven't quite processed, and the film uses the literal humidity of the setting as a metaphor for the emotional weight pressing down on them. It’s heavy. It’s sweaty. It’s real.
The Raw Reality of One Percent More Humid
Most movies about trauma try to give you an "aha!" moment where the protagonist screams into the void and suddenly feels better. One Percent More Humid refuses to do that. Instead, it shows you the destructive ways people try to numb themselves. Iris (Juno Temple) starts an affair with her former professor, played by Alessandro Nivola. Catherine (Julia Garner) seeks out the younger brother of the person they lost. These aren't "smart" choices. They are desperate, flailing attempts to feel something—anything—other than the specific brand of guilt they've been carrying.
The chemistry between Temple and Garner is the anchor. You’ve probably seen them in bigger projects since—Garner in Ozark or Inventing Anna, and Temple in Ted Lasso—but their work here is some of their most nuanced. They move together like two people who have known each other’s rhythms since they were in diapers. They fight like it, too. There’s a scene where they’re just laying on a bed, barely moving because it’s too hot to breathe, and you can feel the years of shared history and current resentment vibrating between them.
Why the Critics Were Split (And Why They Missed the Point)
When the film debuted at the Tribeca Film Festival, the reviews were... mixed. Some critics called it "slow" or "aimless." But that's kinda the point of a New England summer, isn't it? If you've ever spent July in a town where the only thing to do is go to the same three bars or drive to a swimming hole, you know that life is slow.
One of the big complaints was the subplot involving the professor. People felt it was a cliché. Sure, "student sleeps with teacher" is a trope we've seen a thousand times. But in the context of One Percent More Humid, it serves a very specific purpose. It’s not about romance. It’s about Iris trying to find someone who views her as an adult, or perhaps someone who can offer a different kind of authority than the parents she’s currently avoiding. It’s a power dynamic she thinks she can control, even though she clearly can’t.
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The Power of the "Sun-Drenched" Aesthetic
Visually, the movie is stunning in a very gritty, unpolished way. The cinematographer, Todd Banhazl, used a lot of natural light. You can almost feel the sunburn on the characters' shoulders. The water in the lake doesn't look like a postcard; it looks murky and cold.
- The color palette is heavy on yellows and greens.
- The sound design emphasizes crickets and cicadas—that constant buzzing that becomes white noise after a week in the heat.
- The costumes are lived-in. Frayed denim shorts, stained tank tops, messy hair.
This isn't a "pretty" movie, despite having a very attractive cast. It’s a movie that smells like bug spray and stale beer.
Breaking Down the Ending (Spoilers Ahead)
If you're looking for a neat bow at the end of One Percent More Humid, you're going to be disappointed. The resolution doesn't involve a big court case or a dramatic public confession. Instead, it’s about a quiet, internal shift.
The two girls eventually have to confront the reality of the car accident that changed everything. They have to stop blaming themselves—or at least, they have to figure out how to live with the blame. The "one percent more humid" title refers to that tipping point. The moment where it becomes too much to bear. When the storm finally breaks.
There is a sequence toward the end involving a jump into the water that feels like a baptism. It’s not that their problems are gone. It’s just that they’ve finally stopped holding their breath.
The Influence of Liz W. Garcia
Liz W. Garcia has a knack for writing women who are allowed to be unlikeable. We see this in her other work, like The Lifeguard (starring Kristen Bell). She doesn't feel the need to make her protagonists "relatable" in the traditional sense. They make bad decisions. They hurt people. They are selfish.
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In One Percent More Humid, this approach pays off because it feels honest to the age of the characters. At 20 or 21, you think you’re an adult, but you’re still basically a kid. You have the autonomy to ruin your life but not necessarily the wisdom to prevent it. Garcia captures that bridge perfectly.
How It Compares to Other Grief Dramas
If you liked Manchester by the Sea, you’ll probably appreciate this. However, where Manchester is cold and snowy, this is the exact opposite. They are two sides of the same coin. Both deal with the "un-deal-able."
There’s also a bit of Garden State in here, but without the "manic pixie dream girl" energy. It’s more grounded. It’s less about finding a quirky person to save you and more about realizing that your best friend is the only person who truly understands the shape of your scars.
Why You Should Watch It Now
In an era of high-concept multiverses and CGI spectacles, a small, character-driven drama like One Percent More Humid feels like a breath of fresh (albeit humid) air. It’s a reminder that the most interesting stories aren't about saving the world; they’re about saving yourself.
The film is currently available on various streaming platforms like Amazon Prime and Apple TV. It’s the perfect watch for a late Sunday night when you’re feeling a little bit introspective.
Actionable Steps for Exploring the Film’s Themes
If the themes of the movie resonate with you, there are a few ways to engage with the material more deeply. Don't just watch it and move on. Think about how the film handles the concept of "stuckness."
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1. Watch for the non-verbal cues. Pay attention to the way Julia Garner uses her eyes in the scenes where she’s not speaking. She conveys more grief in a silent stare than most actors do in a five-minute monologue.
2. Compare it to The Lifeguard. If you want to see the evolution of Liz W. Garcia’s style, watch her earlier film. You’ll see similar themes of returning home and the struggle to move into adulthood.
3. Look into the soundtrack. The music is sparse but effective. It uses a lot of indie-folk vibes that perfectly match the "endless summer" feel of the Hudson Valley setting.
4. Research the Hudson Valley film scene. This movie was part of a wave of independent films shot in that region. The local geography plays a massive role in the mood of the film. Understanding the setting helps you understand the characters' sense of isolation.
The biggest takeaway from One Percent More Humid is that healing isn't a linear process. Sometimes it involves making mistakes. Sometimes it involves getting a little bit lost. But eventually, the humidity breaks, the rain comes, and you can finally start to see the road ahead again. It’s a quiet masterpiece of the genre, and it’s well worth the time if you’re looking for something that doesn’t pull its punches.