We all know the five stages of grief, right? More than likely, we have all experienced them at some point: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Somewhere in there, though (probably around “anger” or “bargaining”), Adam Egypt Mortimer throws in a brand-new stage: murder.
Pathetic Fallacy is the latest movie from the Daniel Isn’t Real director, and it's a violent, bloody, scary, fun, catchy, and rather beautiful meditation on death. And while it’s been six years since an Adam Egypt Mortimer movie last flashed on our screens, Fallacy immediately makes you wish we had more.
Scott Mescudi (perhaps better known as global superstar Kid Cudi) plays Asher, and Jessica Rothe (her third starring turn of this festival after Beware BoiĂşna and River) plays his wife Iris. The opening of the film charts their first, chemistry-filled meeting, as well as the early days of their relationship. But a glowing countdown shows up on screen, ticking down three years and some odd months “until the end.” And so the prologue quickly turns into a fucked-up version of the first ten minutes of Pixar’s Up.Â
Seizures. The beeping of an MRI machine. Treatment options.
Rothe clutches a book called “How to Die,” making Mescudi swear he will read the seven-minute meditation to her after she breathes her last. According to the book (and perhaps according to science, but I don’t trust Google’s AI results anymore), the brain is still firing for seven minutes after death: “It takes seven minutes to get from here to there.” Asher must help his wife’s spirit ascend, but he can’t seem to finish the meditation. He can’t seem to let go yet. He just can’t do it.
So after the funeral, Asher heads to the mysterious, psychedelic Mount Samdi, where dreams are purported (by a rather catchy tune) to come true. Because what he wants, more than anything, is to have his wife back. Even more so, he wishes that he could have traded places with her and been the sick one.Â
But, of course, Mount Samdi is not all that it seems–it is populated by bloodthirsty creatures of all shapes and sizes, including a masked psycho in the woods whom we see murder two campers. The masked psycho is Doyle, a crazed but charming man played by Travis Fimmel (Raised by Wolves) who also happens to have a talking spider (pitch-perfectly voiced by Natasha Lyonne) in his head… literally. The spider can grant any wish if you kill seven people. Doyle got that chance, and now so has Asher.
This is when the movie really kicks off, and Mescudi delivers an incredible performance throughout–he sings, he sways, he slays. It is an incredibly physically and emotionally demanding role, but he rises to the occasion for a part seemingly written just for him. He’s rather mesmerizing to watch, and I personally would love to see him in even more horror films (especially after similarly great turns in Ti West’s X and M. Night Shyamalan’s Trap).
For those familiar with Mortimer’s work, Pathetic Fallacy continues to have a look and feel unlike anything else in the genre. Extensive VFX and FX work runs throughout, mixed with beautiful 35mm Kodak film cinematography, creating an ethereal, trippy picture. And the music is great, as can be expected–both the vibrating score by Johnny Jewel and the original songs sung by Rothe and Mescudi.
I really wish I could have been listening to the soundtrack right now as I write this piece because the songs have been stuck in my head for days. Put it on streaming! Press it on vinyl!
Pathetic Fallacy has shades of Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me, with Rothe echoing Laura Palmer’s specter, remixed with the classic mythology of Orpheus venturing into hell to get his bride. In many ways, this is the origin story of a slasher, but we're privy to the killer's thought process and personal justification for what they're doing. It feels fresh, and wholly of its time, and is well worth venturing to Mount Samdi to seek out.
The movie closes with a list of people that the filmmakers were “inspired by the love and loss of”—a beautiful reminder that we are all just trying to carve out a small place for ourselves in this world, a small way to be remembered after we’re gone. Pathetic Fallacy is a fitting tribute to those who have gone before us, and an interesting reminder of how to keep living… or killing, in this case.
