BELLFLOWER
Written & Directed by Evan Glodell
Produced by Vincent Grashaw & Glodell
Released by Oscilloscope Laboratories
USA. 105 min. Rated R
With Evan Glodell, Jessie Wiseman, Tyler Dawson Rebekah Brandes & Vincent Grashaw
 

Until about the 50-minute mark, when Midwest transplants/ LA ne’er do wells Woodrow and Aiden finally discharge their homemade flamethrower, you might think you are in the wrong movie. (It’s even later in the film that the advertised fire-breathing muscle car makes its appearance.) For all the smoke and flames in Bellflower’s trailer and press campaign, there’s a serious dearth of action.

The film is a kind of mumblecore-exploitation hybrid, alternating between scenes of gooey relationship drama and showy nihilism. It has the right look. Dirt on the lens, selective focus, extreme contrast—think hipstamatic app—but I was immediately surprised at the meek, squeaky whine of writer-director Evan Glodell, who plays the unlikely (and often unlikable) hero Woodrow. From the poster alone, I was anticipating an awesome, explosive opening, but there is none. There is instead a tender scene where Woodrow commiserates with best friend Aiden (Tyler Dawson) about not being able to land a girlfriend, which precedes a boy-meets-girl setup in a local bar where Woodrow, in fact, does exactly that. She’s an aggressive biker chick type, and he’s an apparent sap, so very early on it’s obvious that Milly (Jessie Wiseman) will love and leave him, and then it happens.

Here’s where it gets good, you’re thinking. Woodrow and Aiden are going to finish building their flamethrower, their maniac car (which, literally, spews fire from the exhaust pipes), and other diabolical instruments of mayhem (which they design and create with a penchant for engineering and a devotion to the Mad Max franchise, the likes of which micro-budget indie film cannot comprehend.) Then they’re going to rampage. They’re going to tear this town apart, burn anything they warrant needs burning, and leave no survivors. Hell hath no fury like an alcoholic pyromaniac engineer scorned. After all, these guys have been slugging whiskey and picking fights for most of the first and second acts, it’s about time things ramped up.

No such luck. Instead, Woodrow and Aiden squabble over a second girl—Milly’s best friend, Courtney (Rebekah Brandes). Then there is another tender scene where Aiden and Woodrow make up, but then Courtney and Milly’s new hookup, Mike (Vincent Grashaw), get tangled up in the love trapezoid, and some friendships get ruined. Where’s the fire, you ask? Exactly. Where’s the fire? The one time flames shoot out in this film is in an abandoned field. It lasts about five seconds, and nothing is destroyed except my expectations.

When the guys finally pull around the car, nicknamed “Medusa,” for a test drive, it yields some cool images. There’s actually a lot of memorable photography from start to finish. Like most of the other elements throughout the film, the cinematography feels youthful, as if during each scene the filmmakers were trying out something new, and pretty much anything goes in that case. For this reason, Bellflower does have some vitality, and I’ll admit it’s unlike any film I’ve seen in recent memory. Imagine a Duplass brother’s nightmare after finishing a jar of moonshine. Also, an out-of-the-blue, mostly unjustified ending actually elevates the film by taking the piss out of it. For all its nervous energy and emotional intensity, the abrupt ending allows us to enjoy how ridiculous it all is.

If you think about this one from a historical perspective, it feels like an indie cult classic—cheap but vivid, with sex and violence and enough action to put on the poster. I wouldn’t be surprised to see a film like this one popping up in the digital bargain bin (or what equivalent there is) in 10 years time. This is more interesting taken less seriously. Michael Lee
August 5, 2011