The Movie Cricket

Movie reviews by Sean P. Means.

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Russell Crowe stars in the thriller “Unhinged,” as a man on a highway rampage that terrorizes a single mom (Caren Pistorius). (Photo by Skip Bolen, courtesy of Solstice Studios.)

Russell Crowe stars in the thriller “Unhinged,” as a man on a highway rampage that terrorizes a single mom (Caren Pistorius). (Photo by Skip Bolen, courtesy of Solstice Studios.)

Review: Revenge thriller 'Unhinged' is loud, bloody and too ready to rationalize its main character's psychotic behavior

August 20, 2020 by Sean P. Means

It will be unfair, of course, that “Unhinged” will be judged by a different standard than other movies — solely because, due to the COVID-19 pandemic wreaking havoc on the movie-release schedule, there are no other movies.

Something had to be the first one out of the gate, and “Unhinged” is it: A loud, angry revenge thriller that wants to be a symbol of our faded social contract — but instead constructs too many straw-man arguments to be as thought-provoking as it intends to be.

Russell Crowe is the star here, identified in the credits only as “Man” — he gives a name at one point, but it could be a lie — and presumably standing in for any guy on his worst day. We’re introduced to him sitting in his pickup truck, on a rainy 4 a.m., outside a house. After some preparation, we see him take a sledgehammer to the house’s door, and then to the man and woman who live there. He then torches the house and drives away.

The script, by Carl Ellsworth (“Disturbia,” “Red Eye”), provides some background details about who the couple was, and what connection they may have to Man. But that’s all making excuses, trying to rationalize the irrational. This Man is a psychopath, that’s pretty firmly established, and woe to anyone who makes him angry.

Which is where Rachel (Caren Pistorius), a hairdresser and about-to-be-divorced single mom racing to get her son Kyle (Gabriel Bateman) to school, enters the picture. At an intersection, a truck in front of Rachel’s Volvo doesn’t move at the green light. Rachel honks her horn and pulls around. The truck catches up to Rachel and Kyle, and our Man rolls down his window, demanding an apology from Rachel. When he doesn’t get one, the rage and the gamesmanship begin.

German-born director Derrick Borte can piece together a good car chase, and ratchets up the tension as the Man’s boiling temper and misplaced sense of white male entitlement spills over in increasingly lethal ways.

But Borte can’t make Crowe’s character into anything more than a collection of his tics and mannerisms — and Crowe, sporting a lumberjack beard and maybe 20 extra pounds, is tossing around mannerisms like confetti. Meanwhile, Ellsworth’s script gives us the details of Rachel’s life in crude chunks of exposition, as if the filmmakers’ next step would be to just have Rachel tell us, the audience, what her problems are.

As the first major Hollywood movie to open since everything shut down in March, “Unhinged” may appear tempting, if only to get out of the house and see a movie for a change. If your standards have atrophied to that degree in the bunker, accept some tough love and know that better movies are coming — and you don’t have to mask up for this mean-spirited mess.

——

‘Unhinged’

★★

Opening Friday, August 21, in many theaters nationwide. Rated R for strong violent content, and language throughout. Runnning time: 90 minutes.

August 20, 2020 /Sean P. Means
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Review: Offbeat biography 'Tesla' chronicles the inventor's work and his obsessions

August 20, 2020 by Sean P. Means

The two previous times filmmaker Michael Almereyda and actor Ethan Hawke teamed up, they tore up the rules of Shakespeare for arresting modern versions of “Hamlet” (2000) and “Cymbeline” (2014) — so why would we think a biographical drama about Nikolai Tesla wouldn’t be a trip?

The finished product, called simply “Tesla,” is an intriguing mix of character study and dissertation, as Hawke and Almereyda labor mightily to find the man behind the mad genius.

If people know much about Nikolai Tesla, it might be the Tesla coil — his invention that produced high-voltage alternating current — or how that device, and Tesla’s championing of the safety of alternating current ran afoul of his old employer, Thomas Edison, who believed direct current was the way of the future.

We’re shown this battle of wills, between the visionary thinker Tesla and the practical inventor and salesman Edison (Kyle MacLachlan), in the movie’s early going, along with Tesla’s partnership with appliance magnate George Westinghouse (Jim Gaffigan) to make AC a viable option to Edison’s DC. As the “current war” fades into history — Tesla won, sort of, though Edison would never admit it — Tesla talks industrial mogul J.P. Morgan (David Keshawarz) to bankroll his grandiose plans to create a radio transmitter that can send sound, and someday even images, around the globe, using the earth itself as a resonator to direct the waves.

Much of Tesla’s story is told by Morgan’s independent-minded daughter, Anne (played by Eve Hewson), whose admiration for Tesla’s work is matched by the indifference Tesla shows to her apparent crush. The only time a woman pierces the bubble of Tesla’s contemplation of his inventions is a close encounter with the actress Sarah Bernhardt (Rebecca Dayan) — with Anne speculating that his interest in Sarah is based largely on her unattainability.

Almereyda — much as he did on his film “Experimenter,” about psychologist Stanley Milgram — is fascinated with the workings of a genius’ mind, and labors mightily to find ways to visualize that brain at work. For the biographical details, Almereyda has Anne talk directly to the camera, sometimes popping open an anachronistic laptop computer to compare the number of Google hits Tesla and Edison’s names score (Edison wins, nearly 2-to-1). Almereyda doesn’t worry much about period details, obviously, and uses the neat visual trick of establishing settings through rear projection. (The irony of telling Tesla’s story using one of Edison’s best-known inventions isn’t lost on Hawke or anyone else onscreen.)

Hawke keeps Tesla reserved, aloof, letting the inventor’s quiet anguish — and his idealism trumping his practicality — emerge through subtle moments. The closest the movie gets to a declarative statement is near the end, when Hawke’s Tesla sings karaoke to Tears for Fears’ “Everybody Wants to Rule the World,” whose lyric “I can’t stand this indecision, married to a lack of vision” is as fitting an epitaph for Tesla as any.

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‘Tesla’

★★★

Opening Friday, August 21, at several Megaplex Theatres locations,, and as a video-on-demand rental on most streaming platforms. Rated PG-13 for some thematic material and nude images. Running time: 102 minutes.

August 20, 2020 /Sean P. Means
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A helicopter takes off from the deck of the U.S.S. Nimitz, in an archival photo seen in the documentary “Desert One.” (Photo courtesy of Greenwich Entertainment.)

A helicopter takes off from the deck of the U.S.S. Nimitz, in an archival photo seen in the documentary “Desert One.” (Photo courtesy of Greenwich Entertainment.)

Review: 'Desert One' tells of servicemen's courage, and a presidency's last gasp, during the Iran hostage crisis

August 20, 2020 by Sean P. Means

The riveting documentary “Desert One” reminds us that history is a great teacher, if only we would listen to the lessons — which, in the case of the failed rescue mission of 52 American hostages in Iran in 1980, include lessons on the limits of military might and the importance of a president taking responsibility when things go wrong.

Before getting to the central event of the story, director Barbara Kopple takes us back to the 1970s, when the U.S.-supported regime of the Shah of Iran was starting to unravel. The Shah — put in power after a Western-backed coup of Iran’s elected prime minister, Mohammad Mosaddegh, in 1953 — was facing a rebellion, led by the Ayatollah Khomeini, and fled the country in early 1979. 

Then a group of students supporting Khomeini overran the U.S. Embassy, and took 52 staffers, including diplomats and military men, hostage. President Jimmy Carter and his administration tried to negotiate a release of the hostages, but would not give in to the Iranian’s chief demand: Custody of the Shah, who was in New York receiving cancer treatment.

While negotiations dragged on, the Pentagon was making plans. The military’s Delta Force had come up with a rescue plan, an elaborate plot to fly Special Ops servicemen into Iran on C-130 transports, and transfer them to helicopters for a daring raid on the embassy in Tehran. The rendezvous point was a dry lakebed, code named Desert One.

The range of people Kopple and her team interview here is impressive. They include: Three of the hostages, at least three of the Iranians who held them captive, several members of the strike force on the rescue mission, military and CIA advisers (including Robert Gates, later Secretary of Defense), and President Carter and Vice President Walter Mondale.

The movie also corrals a wealth of news footage, from both Iran and the United States, and even the long-classified conversations between Carter and his generals when the mission was going drastically wrong.

The portrait painted by this new and archival material is of the country hamstrung not only by a foreign nation’s action but by the U.S. government’s miscalculations at what a small country might do to get revenge for a grudge that American leaders forgot existed. “Desert One” also tells a story of heroism, of servicemen who risked their lives — and, for eight of them, gave their lives — because they believed their leaders knew what they were doing. It also shows Carter as a man of integrity, taking personal responsibility for his administration’s failure.

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‘Desert One’

★★★1/2

Opening Friday, August 21, at the Megaplex Jordan Commons (Sandy), Megaplex Legacy Crossing (Centerville) and Megaplex at The Junction (Ogden); and in the SLFS@Home and Utah Film Center virtual cinemas. Not rated, but probably R for gruesome images of war. Running time: 107 minutes.

August 20, 2020 /Sean P. Means
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Konstantin (Pyotr Fyodorov) returns from space with an alien stowaway, in the horror thriller “Sputnik.” (Photo courtesy of IFC Midnight.)

Konstantin (Pyotr Fyodorov) returns from space with an alien stowaway, in the horror thriller “Sputnik.” (Photo courtesy of IFC Midnight.)

Review: Something comes from outer space in effectively chilling Russian horror thriller 'Sputnik'

August 13, 2020 by Sean P. Means

In space, we’ve been told, no one can here you scream — but in the Russian space-faring horror thriller “Sputnik,” all the action is back on terra firma, so there’s plenty to scream about.

In Moscow in 1983, Tatiana Klimova (Oksana Akinshina) is a brilliant but abrasive doctor fighting for her professional life in front of a medical board — because she made a snap decision that saved a patient’s life but ruffled feathers with the family and other doctors. On a break during her disciplinary hearing, Tatiana is approached by Col. Semiradov (Fedor Bondarchuk), who has a case that he wants Tatiana’s consulting skills. It’s not just her expertise Semaradov wants, but her ability to think outside the box.

Semiradov flies Tatiana to a distant military base, where she meets an unusual patient: Konstantine Veshnyakov (Pyotr Fyodorov), a cosmonaut recently returned from a mission on the Soviet space station Mir. Veshnyakov’s capsule made a rough landing in Kazakhstan, which left his partner near death. Tatiana, overriding the base’s medical staff, diagnoses Veshnyakov with PTSD, which may explain his amnesia.

When Semiradov shows Tatiana the night surveillance footage of Veshnyakov’s cell, she learns the truth: The cosmonaut brought back an alien parasite — or, rather, a symbiote — that crawls out of the sleeping Veshnyakov’s mouth at night to feed.

Now Tatiana must decide whether to study the creature for science, or let Veshnyakov know the truth about what’s living inside him.

Director Egor Abramenko doesn’t shy away from his influences, everything from “Alien” to “The Thing,” as he constructs scary special-effects set pieces as Tatiana is drawn ever deeper into the mystery of this alien creature and the humans who want to exploit it. Abramenko and screenwriters Oleg Malovichko and Andrei Zolotarev modulate the tension well, building up the suspense and gore on parallel tracks toward a bloody satisfying ending.

What carries “Sputnik” is the central performance by Akinshina. It’s been nearly two decades since Akinshina, as a teen actress, wowed international audiences in Lucas Moodysson’s gut-wrenching sex-trafficking drama “Lilya-4-Ever.” Now as an adult, her talent is undiminished, and her mix of steely determination and medical compassion become the key to unlocking this compelling thriller.

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‘Sputnik’

★★★

Opening Friday, August 14, at the Megaplex Theatres, and available as a video-on-demand rental on most streaming platforms. Not rated, but probably R for violence and gore. Running time: 114 minutes; in Russian, with subtitles.

August 13, 2020 /Sean P. Means
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Joe Keery plays Kurt, a rideshare driver obsessed with his social-media popularity, in the slasher satire “Spree.” (Photo courtesy of RLJE Media.)

Joe Keery plays Kurt, a rideshare driver obsessed with his social-media popularity, in the slasher satire “Spree.” (Photo courtesy of RLJE Media.)

Review: 'Spree' is a candy-colored but disgustingly sour slasher movie that's also a weak satire of social media

August 13, 2020 by Sean P. Means

It’s hard to think of a movie that has such cynical disdain for everything it touches — its message, its cast, its audience — than what director Eugene Kotlyarenko brings to “Spree,” a putrid slasher movie told from the viewpoint of its cheerily and boringly psychotic killer.

Joe Keery, who’s so charming as the reluctant babysitter Steve Harrington on “Stranger Things,” stars here as Kurt Kunkle, a Los Angeles rideshare driver and would-be internet influencer. If only he could get the views on his live-streamed evening on the road above the single digits. He’s decked out his car with cameras all over to capture the action, and aims to enlist Bobby (Joshua Ovalle), a teen web phenom that Kurt used to babysit, to drive up his “likes.”

As Kurt explains in his stream-of-conscious rambling to the camera, he plans to have the most epic ride-sharing day ever. He’s got his complimentary water bottles ready, his car decked out with colorful lights, and intends to break records for most rides on the Spree service in a single day.

What soon become apparent is that Kurt isn’t going to get all his passengers to their destinations. The water bottles are poisoned, and if that doesn’t work, he has other, bloodier ways to dispatch the people he picks up.

Kotlyarenko and his co-writer Gene McHugh stack the deck for Kurt. His first passenger (Linas Phillips) is a white supremacist. Once he’s gone, Kurt picks up a rude real-estate agent (Jessalyn Gilsig), and then a sexist blowhard (John DeLuca). The first “normal” person Kurt has in his car is Jessie Adams (former “Saturday Night Live” performer Sasheer Zamata), a stand-up comic and web celebrity — whom Kurt tries and fails to impress with his own internet ambitions.

The story devolves from there, with Kotlyarenko setting up one gruesome murder after another, laden with Kurt’s annoyingly chipper banter and the constant feed of web commenters either egging Kurt on or doubting the bloodshed is real. There’s a message in here somewhere, about the dehumanizing effects of web culture, where being “liked” is more important than being a decent human being — but Kotylarenko buries the moral in self-consciously flashy editing and a during-the-credits epilogue that unfairly turns the filmmaking process and the audience into accessories. 

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‘Spree’

★

Opening Friday, August 14, at the Megaplex Theatres, and available as a video-on-demand rental on most streaming platforms. Not rated, but probably R for extreme violence and gore, and language. Running time: 93 minutes.

August 13, 2020 /Sean P. Means
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Myya Jones, a long-shot candidate for mayor of Detroit in 2017, works the phones, in a moment form the documentary “Represent.” (Photo courtesy of Music Box Films.)

Myya Jones, a long-shot candidate for mayor of Detroit in 2017, works the phones, in a moment form the documentary “Represent.” (Photo courtesy of Music Box Films.)

Review: 'Represent' profiles three women running for office, spotlighting the people part of politics

August 13, 2020 by Sean P. Means

The documentary “Represent” is a friendly reminder, one we need now more than ever, that politics is supposed to be about people — the ones running for office, and the ones who vote for them.

Filmmaker Hillary Bachelder — who directed, shot and edited this PBS-backed documentary — follows the fortunes of three women running for office in the Midwest in 2017 and 2018. They are:

 • Myya Jones, a 22-year-old Black activist who in 2017 started a long-shot campaign to be mayor of Detroit, with the goal of shifting city funds to poverty-stricken African American neighborhoods.

 • Julie Cho, a Korean immigrant in Evanston, Ill., running for her local Illinois state house seat, as a Republican in a solidly Democratic district, on a platform against gerrymandering.

 • Bryn Bird, a progressive policy wonk and produce farmer in rural Ohio, running against the conservative establishment to fill one of the three seats on the Granville Township Board of Trustees.

Bachelder doesn’t spend too much time on the candidates’ policy stances, Instead following the candidates as they try to connect with the people they hope will vote for them. There’s a lot of pounding the pavement, knocking on doors and shaking hands (in the pre-COVID days). There are also living-room fund-raisers, and state party conventions where they try to stand out in a crowd.

Bachelder’s approach is gentle and even-handed, avoiding the vitriol of internet trolls and national party squabbles. Much of the backlash these three women feel is of the quieter variety, whether it’s Bird coming to understand the old-boy network in her town or Jones trying to cut through the chatter of the state convention. Cho faces the loneliest road in some ways, rejected in crowds when she says she’s a Republican while also being abandoned by her state’s GOP apparatus. 

Like any good documentarian, Bachelder shows us the people behind the process, and lets us get to know and like them. By the end of “Represent,” these women may not have earned your vote, but they will have earned your respect.

——

‘Represent’

★★★

Available Friday, August 14, in the Salt Lake Film Society’s “virtual cinema.” Not rated, but probably PG for mature themes. Running time: 93 minutes.

August 13, 2020 /Sean P. Means
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Animator John Kricfalusi, creator of “The Ren & Stimpy Show,” is interviewed about his work and his abusive treatment of coworkers and underage fans, in the documentary “Happy Happy Joy Joy: The Ren & Stimpy Story.” (Photo courtesy of Gravit…

Animator John Kricfalusi, creator of “The Ren & Stimpy Show,” is interviewed about his work and his abusive treatment of coworkers and underage fans, in the documentary “Happy Happy Joy Joy: The Ren & Stimpy Story.” (Photo courtesy of Gravitas Ventures.)

Review: 'Happy Happy Joy Joy' captures the rise and fall of an iconic cartoon, but underplays its creator's disturbing behavior

August 13, 2020 by Sean P. Means

I remember seeing “Ed Wood,” and feeling somewhat ripped off that director Tim Burton gave us the triumphant Hollywood ending — at the premiere of Wood’s crap-masterpiece “Plan 9 From Outer Space” — and not taking us to the real end of Wood’s career, making porno films.

I had a similar reaction when I watched “Happy Happy Joy Joy: The Ren & Stimpy Story,” a documentary that captures the meteoric rise and spectacular fall of one of TV’s most out-there animated programs — but barely scratches the surface of the awfulness of the man who created it.

Ron Cicero and Kimo Easterwood, two longtime crew guys directing their first film, largely follow the storyline of a rags-to-riches-to-rags Hollywood story. Canadian animator John Kricfalusi toils in the L.A. trenches, recoiling at the cheap, toy-driven animated product around him — so he gathers some like-minded artists to start creating the kind of cartoons they loved, in the mold of Bob Clampett and Chuck Jones. 

Most notably, Kricfalusi brings on Bob Camp, who is as talented and devoted to the old style of animation as he is. He also brings on Lynne Naylor, who becomes his production partner and, for a time, his girlfriend — but when they break up, Naylor leaves the production company they co-founded, Spumco. As one animator puts it, it’s like the parents divorced, and Mom left the kids with their jerk of a father.

Kricfalusi creates some characters and makes a pitch to the networks, who turn him down flat — one even has a security guard escort him off the lot. He meets Vanessa Coffey, a producer with ties to Nickelodeon, who dislikes the pitch — but likes two of the characters, a manic chihuahua and a not-very-bright cat. Coffey convinces the big cheese at Nickelodeon, Geraldine Laybourne, to give Kricfalusi a six-episode tryout with these characters, called Ren and Stimpy.

The show is an instant hit in 1991, an anarchic mix of juvenile humor and innuendo that sails over the kids’ heads. Nickelodeon, sensing the hip factor, reruns the shows on its sister network, MTV. Nickelodeon also orders 20 episodes for the second season.

Here’s where the fairy tale falls apart. Kricfalusi’s perfectionism, and his verbal abuse of his team, leads to budget overruns and missed deadlines — and his dismissive treatment of Coffey and the network brass leads to Nickelodeon firing him. Interviewed by the documentarians, Kricfalusi still calls the termination a betrayal by his Spumco staffers, especially Camp, and by Coffey — without ever acknowledging his role in his professional self-immolation.

If that were all to the story of how “The Ren & Stimpy Show” came and went from the public psyche, then I’d say Cicero and Easterwood did an admirable job of cajoling thoughtful, self-effacing interviews out of most of the principals — as well as commentary from some celebrity fans, including Jack Black and comic Iliza Schlesinger.

But that’s not the whole story. Cicero and Easterwood were well into production and editing when Buzzfeed News broke a big story in 2018, detailing Kricfalusi’s inappropriate sexual relationships with underage fans who came to Los Angeles and lived with him. The revelation reportedly convinced Kricfalusi to grant the filmmakers an interview he had previously denied them, presumably so he could frame the story his way. The filmmakers also interview Robyn Byrd, one of the two women in the Buzzfeed story, an artist who struck up a mail correspondence with Kricfalusi, and moved in with him when she was 16 and he was in his 40s.

The problem with “Happy Happy Joy Joy” is that Cicero and Easterwood leave this part of Kricfalusi’s past for the last 15 minutes of the film. Besides making Kricfalusi’s behavior with the young women — which, if not for the statute of limitations, might have put him in prison — an afterthought, the filmmakers give Kricfalusi the last word, a non-apology apology that includes a creepy invitation to see Byrd in person again.

The filmmakers didn’t do what they should have done, which was to bulldoze their edit and start over — to put the art of “Ren & Stimpy” and the abusive treatment of his Spumco staff in context of Kricfalusi’s actions as an alleged sexual predator. The results, as they stand, are uncomfortably like watching an old “Red & Stimpy” episode: Entertained at first, then somewhat saddened, then totally creeped out.  

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‘Happy Happy Joy Joy: The Ren & Stimpy Story’

★★

Opening Friday, August 14, at the Megaplex Theatres, and available as a video-on-demand rental on most streaming platforms. Not rated, but probably R for language, crude animated humor, sexual situations and descriptions of sexual abuse. Running time: 107 minutes.

August 13, 2020 /Sean P. Means
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Amy (Katie Lyn Sheil, left, with Kentucker Audley in the background) tries to fight off a sense of foreboding, in writer-director Amy Seimetz’ thriller “She Dies Tomorrow.” (Photo courtesy of Neon.)

Amy (Katie Lyn Sheil, left, with Kentucker Audley in the background) tries to fight off a sense of foreboding, in writer-director Amy Seimetz’ thriller “She Dies Tomorrow.” (Photo courtesy of Neon.)

Review: In the dread-soaked 'She Dies Tomorrow,' director Amy Seimetz finds a perfect metaphor for our contagiously anxious times

August 06, 2020 by Sean P. Means

The new movies available to us during the COVID-19 pandemic — not the blockbusters the studios are kicking down the road, but the indies in “virtual cinemas,” or streaming on-demand, or playing in drive-ins or the few theaters that reopened early — will fall into two categories: Time capsules of what was before the virus, and chillingly prescient allegories for our unsettled times.

Writer-director Amy Seimetz’ suspense drama “She Dies Tomorrow” lands squarely into that second category — a tight, doom-laden creeper that speaks to our fears of isolation and contagion with devastating silences.

When we first meet Amy, played by Kate Lyn Sheil, we see a close-up of her eye — mascara streaked, tears welling up, filled with fear and resignation. We fill in some details about her, that she’s a recovering alcoholic who’s just moved into a new house, and that one of her friends, Jane (Jane Adams), is apparently her AA sponsor. What we hear Amy saying, over and over, is “I’m going to die tomorrow.”

Amy says this to Jane, who comes over to make sure she’s OK. She’s not OK, and soon Amy’s belief that she’s going to die becomes Jane’s fear. Jane starts behaving oddly, and fully believes she’s going to die tomorrow — and she takes this information to her brother, Jason (Chris Messina) and his wife Susan (Katie Aselton), who are celebrating Susan’s birthday with friends Brian (Tunde Adebimpe) and Tilly (Jennifer Kim).

While Jane is spreading her message to her friends, the movie takes us back to Amy, who decides to spend her last hours riding dune buggies and getting stoned with a guy (Adam Wingard) who rents her the buggy. She also flashes back to a date with Craig (Kentucker Audley), where this might all have started.

Seimetz is a jack-of-all-trades filmmaker, working both the indie and studio system for her benefit, in the tradition of John Cassavetes. Reportedly, she paid for “She Dies Tomorrow” off her earnings from starring in the “Pet Sematary” remake. (She also co-created and co-directed most of “The Girlfriend Experience,” and played the prudish relation of Emily Dickinson in “Wild Nights With Emily.”)

With “She Dies Tomorrow,” Seimetz shows herself a vividly experimental filmmaker and an expert calibrator of modulated suspense. As she follows Amy, then Jane, then other characters, the unseen menace of transmittable fear and dread becomes a palpable presence, an invisible fog that permeates the movie. Seimetz’ visual touches, like the flashing red and blue lights that signal the fear cooties doing their work, are genius in their direct, simple ability to convey terror.

For all the elements of fear, and more than a little blood, it’s not quite right to call “She Dies Tomorrow” a horror movie. There aren’t any sudden shocks, no explicit gore, and death is a concept to consider than a plot point to show in detail. But it’s a movie that burrows under the skin and bounces around the brain, a parasite feeding off of our pandemic-battered psyches.

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‘She Dies Tomorrow’

★★★1/2

Available Friday, August 7, as a video-on-demand rental on most platforms. Rated R for language, some sexual references, drug use and bloody images. Running time: 85 minutes.

August 06, 2020 /Sean P. Means
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