This astounding indie film follows Woodrow and Aiden, a couple of DIY, don’t-try-this-at-home, Mad Max-lovin’ slackers, surveying the drunken wasteland of their fuck-it-all existence. Things get rolling when Woodrow starts a fiery relationship with Milly, a sponger who gets her kicks by taking outlandish dares at the local bar, mouthful of cricket be damned. Their tryst starts out with careless - almost cutesy - abandon, but there is a radioactive apocalypse lingering on the horizon that threatens to melt away Woodrow’s psyche, blurring the lines between his hollow reality and violent chimerical delusions.
Evan Glodell pulls a passable multi-threat, serving as director, writer, producer, and starring as Woodrow, and the film is justifiably masturbatory at times. But it is also infused with a strong visual style that makes one loath to look away, often utilizing jump-cut editing and retro, washed-out cinematography to striking effect, and everything works in tune thematically to convey the disintegration of memory and a certain lackadaisical existentialism.
It has a few other issues that might divide audiences and hold it back from it from making real headway as an indie classic. Namely, a few cliched manipulations, and the recurring feeling these are the types of unsympathetic characters that I would probably want to punch in the face. But it is constructed with something of a wink, and I would not be surprised to see it gain a cult following.
Did I mention there is a badass flamethrower and a car named Medusa? That should be reason enough to check it out.
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