Strange Darling

The dizzying opening of Strange Darling works extra well if you go in knowing nothing beyond its title, as I had the good fortune of doing. First, we see a woman, later identified simply as The Lady (Willa Fitzgerald), bloodied and terrified running towards the screen, until she basically runs into the camera. Cut to a dude (whom we come to know as The Demon (Kyle Gallner)) sitting calmly in a blue neon drenched truck being asked by an off-screen voice if he's a serial killer. Followed by a brief crawl explaining that what we're about to see is a dramatic reconstruction of actual events from just a few years ago. And finally, we're informed this is a story in six chapters.

But the most exciting part of that whirlwind came in the next title card: "Chapter 3". Starting with the story already in progress means it can get going immediately, needing to waste no time on setup or context or backstories. Those will all come later, and presumably be very important if they're going to the trouble of withhold them. Sure enough, the first full scene is high octane and excitingly choreographed, establishing The Lady and The Demon as our main characters, one the hunter and the other the hunted (I'll let you figure out which is which). Fortunately, she comes upon a house of helpful old hippies (Barbara Hershey and Ed Begley Jr.), providing even more opportunities for the developing cat and mouse game.

Right as she arrives, my interest was fully piqued, as we cut to black and come up on the next title card: "Chapter 5". What happened to Chapter 4? Why did we skip it? Are we going back to it at some point? That is, are we watching a nonlinear narrative, or will the six chapters come from a larger collection in which gaps will be filled in by context or exposition or something as we barrel forward? The structure becomes incredibly important now, as we're being made to explicitly think about it and the choices it represents. Are they memory gaps or time lapses or narrative framing or...what?

It quickly becomes clear that director JT Mollner is most concerned with the assumptions people make in the absence of information. Where do those expectations come from, what do they tell us about our experience of the world, what are our biases? We only know the world as we move through it, relying on others for any sense of another perspective. But it's a flawed system: people are under no obligation to tell you the whole truth, be they your real-life peers, or the director of a feature film. One moment, The Lady meets these nice old folks: the next, the husband is dead and his wife is nowhere to be seen, as The Demon stalks around the house with a loaded shotgun, trying to discover The Lady's hiding place. Mollner leaves us to piece together what happened, highlighting it in such a way as to point out that unless he tells you the chain of events, you can only rely on your own unreliable suppositions.

All of this spools out in a tense and engaging story, shot beautifully by first-time cinematographer Giovanni Ribisi (yes, the actor): we're informed up front the whole thing was filmed in 35mm. Which is probably the first time I've seen a movie with an opening title card like that, priming you from jump to think about how this was made, about all the invisible choices that go into constructing a movie, especially on such a low budget. It abounds with creativity in the individual scenes and overall aesthetic. Even in the instances it utilizes tropes, it's often playing with them to point at your preconceived notions of the world. There are a couple of split diopter shots which look wickedly cool while very intentionally adding to the sense of discomfort in crucial moments. And both Fitzgerald and Gallner have incredible screen presence, even coming across as very dynamic when their characters are fairly standard. Of course, they don't stay stock throughout, and when the more complex scenes come about, both are largely up to the task. Gallner is the standout, as a few situations force him to fight against both his natural presentation as well as the energy associated with him by anyone who saw last year's The Passenger. He continues to have an incredibly bright future in the genre.

If anything holds the movie back, it's the way the ending drags on for too long after it feels like the story has been thoroughly told and its point made. That point can be interpreted in very interesting and potentially unsavory ways, but I'll say no more to avoid spoiling the answers to some of the questions I posed above. Nonetheless, know that the ultimate takeaway from the film could leave you feeling a bit unsettled. Granted, it softens that with a retro vibe despite taking place just a few years ago that also reads a bit pulpy, subtly telling us to not take it super seriously and just have fun. Which is a bit odd, as it clashes with a movie and filmmaker who obviously has something on his mind. Still, I respect trying to pay homage to the history of the genre, even if it doesn't always seem like the ideal choice.

This is an odd little film that didn't get much marketing and seems to have largely flown under the radar. It didn't completely come out of nowhere, being acquired out of last year's Fantastic Fest, but it's mostly relied on word of mouth to spread. Which has been pretty damn effective: all the responses I've seen/heard have been positive to varying degrees, and I'll add to that chorus. It's grungy, somewhat gory fun, while also being incredibly thoughtful and direct. It revels in being schlocky at times, if only to pull back the curtain on why it's doing so. In a summer of interesting, low-budget, neon-drenched horror, this still manages to stands out, which is impressive all its own.