jposhea8888-1978

This movie subtly pulled me into its orbit.

Only now, a week later, does my affinity for this microbudget film fully manifest.

Shot in Michigan, this dark, gritty, slow-burning, two-hander, DIY, slacker-esque guerrilla film was written, directed, and acted in by Joshua Burge (Marty) and Joel Potrykus (Derrick). Do a little research on Joel P., and you'll see he's steadily carving out a name for himself among the indie ilk.

Essentially, the story follows two "good" friends, Derrick talks, Marty listens, as they embark on a journey to a predetermined place to carry out a pact they've made with each other involving a macabre act. I say "good" in quotes because ulterior motives may be at play.

Derrick doesn't exactly seem like the sharpest tool in the shed. But given the immensity of the moment and the enormity of the impending act, he may simply be out of sorts, mentally unwell, overwhelmed by stress, consumed by ticking tension and the weight of what lies ahead. Their grim task barrels toward them with seemingly no way to slow, halt, or escape it. If anything, it picks up steam the deeper they venture into the woods.

Or... maybe Derrick is just quirky and a bit slow on the uptake-a patsy, a pleaser, someone eager to call anyone a friend.

Let's address the elephant in the room: the hate for this film is palpable, off the charts. I was lucky. I went in blind, oblivious to reviews, criticisms, or the general audience reaction. Had I known, I likely would've avoided it. But I stumbled upon it on a torrent site and gave it a shot.

I get that this movie won't be everyone's cup of tea. But if you enjoy grim, dark, slow-to-develop comedy infused with a metal soundtrack (seriously, how did they secure rights to Metallica and Godsmack? That's a head-scratcher), and layered with a uniquely philosophical "what does it all mean?" approach, I think you'll be pleased.

To the haters: don't hate the project just because you hate the genre. If you must hate it, hate it based on its merits.

This is one of those films where the immediate impact isn't felt. But days later, you might find yourself suddenly immersed in a scene, ruminating on the plot's rarely discussed incident, the quiet catalyst behind the whole story. You start deconstructing seemingly meaningless dialogue, only to realize that not a sentence, or even a word, feels wasted or out of place. And just as that thought begins to fade, a subthought takes root.

Suddenly, I'm mulling over Derrick's home life, career, and hobbies, wondering if he even has any. In reflection, his endless chatter was mostly noise. He seldom spoke about anything with real substance. And yet, if you were attentive, there were furtive kernels of truth and accountability sprinkled throughout.

There were maybe two, possibly three moments when Joel (as Marty) broached the real reason behind their journey, the dark purpose of the pact. If memory serves, Marty never engaged, never responded, never even acknowledged the act they were about to commit.

After watching Vulcanizadora, I'm confident that it will all make more sense.

7.8/10.

A gripping, visceral film that swings between gut-punch realism and surreal quiet. The acting is flawless, there's not a weak link in the entire platoon. Tension builds during ominous lulls, with lingering camera shots that make you think, "This is it, it's about to erupt!" Then suddenly... nothing. The focus shifts to something mundane, like a water bottle. But just as you're lulled into calm, a chilling stillness returns, and the cycle of dread begins again.

As a vet who's never seen combat, I've watched plenty of period war films, but this one hit different. Compared to it, Black Hawk Down feels like Stripes, and The Hurt Locker stays locked away. It channels the intensity of American Sniper, but stripped of backstory. For the first time, I truly felt thankful, blessed, to have never faced combat.

The haunting landscape, the contrast between civilians living normal lives and lurking military-aged men, creates a sense of unease few films manage. You wait, breath held, for the storm to break. And when it does? Bring a strong stomach and earplugs, it's an assault on the senses in the most harrowing way.

The sound design is masterful: from blood-curdling screams to muted dread, from dead silence to chaos in a heartbeat. Tranquility never lasts. Blink, and it explodes!

An uneasy tension hovers over the breathtaking Irish countryside of the 1980s. Subtly embedded within this visual tapestry is the somber rhythm and deliberate pacing of the dialogue, especially in the way Cáit and those around her speak. The elongated, weighty delivery of each "prominent" figure in her life allows moments of silence to speak volumes, giving the narrative room to breathe and revealing the haunting mysteries that surround this extended family.

Without giving too much away, the premise is elegantly simple. Cáit, a preteen Irish girl cast aside by her immediate family, is sent to live with distant relatives. It is there that she begins to come into herself, discovering both her voice and a profound sense of belonging.

The acting is nothing short of superb. Every performance-whether lead, supporting, or background-feels essential and deeply considered. The cast as a whole subtly conveys a looming sense of unease, a quiet acknowledgment that something unspoken is deeply impacting Cáit. Her muted expressions and nervous gestures speak louder than words.

The score complements the film beautifully. It crafts atmosphere without overwhelming the scenes, adding just the right emotional dimension.

In the end, I feel genuinely enriched for having spent time with this quiet, unforgettable gem.