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EAT ME
Reviewed by H.A. Eaglehart
Beginning at an isolated house so obviously cliché to the humble Salton Sea community it quite possibly might have appeared on an episode of Huell Howser's California Gold, lead character Tommy, performed by the wonderfully talented Jacqueline Wright, appears in the first moments of the film to be a bit off-kilter.
We watch Tommy do an odd array of activities, including getting into a suitcase before hiding her giant dildos inside the liner of the couch and then pretending to stab herself in the gut with a huge kitchen knife before pouring every pill in the cluttered abode into a pet dish. Don't be alarmed, this is not a spoiler alert, because nothing within the first minutes of Eat Me could prepare the audience for the plot that unfolds.
Wright originally wrote Eat Me as a very successful and daring play, which she has now adapted into a brilliant screenplay telling a story about that part of this country that "Great" simply cannot hide: the depressing truth. Prepare to be repulsed and disgusted, because that is exactly Wright's intension in revealing the many unseen casualties of our judgmental society.
Art is the reflection of that which is within and finding relatability in Eat Me reminded me of how important art is-especially at this point in our nation's history. It requires vision to tell a story about rape, masochism, and suicide without such repugnant sounding words losing the audience, a feat here surpassed by an acting ensemble paramount in showing us the real people behind labels defined in dictionaries or Google Search. Wright's script and the movie's ensemble, under the leadership of visionary director Adrian A. Cruz, appear to be wielded with such ease that it's genius.
Halfway through the film, it became obvious that I cared about three distastefully misunderstood characters, who were behaving in ways most only dare type into words late at night on porn search engines. One of the many strokes of genius in this film is the ever-present TV Land-type station playing reruns of The Andy Griffith Show and the 1955 B-movie sci-fi classic Tarantula. And as this soundtrack of Americana drones in the background, right before our very eyes the greatness of our troubled country crumbles to pieces as Tommy becomes the newest addition to the #MeToo movement.
The important factor in this blood-soaked story is the undeniable undertone of dark humor. I was ashamed of myself for laughing at situations not just inappropriate but flat-out morally wrong by societal standards. Standards are pushed to their absolute breaking point-all to the audience's inexplicable amusement. A perfect example is Michael Shamus Wiles (Magnolia, Pearl Harbor) as Frank, the older of the two rapists who break into Tommy's remote country home, clearly a distasteful fellow upon his first appearance in the film.
Though given time, Frank soon had me snickering at his habitual vices normal people do every day, except that Frank isn't having a normal day. He's breaking into a house with the intent of raping Tommy, yet when he throws his helplessly drugged victim to the floor before ripping open the velcro to his back-support belt so that he can unbutton his pants-a habitual vice that he repeats throughout his brief scenes in the film-I couldn't help but laugh. This film really is a wonderfully bad influence on normal people, the characters so relatable the audience lowers its guard. Good acting accomplishes that and Wiles shows his chops as a seasoned actor.
Nothing would work without the electrifying chemistry that Tommy finds with Brad Carter (Black Mass, The Revenant) as Bob, the second of the two rapists. Part of the intrigue keeping the audience glued to their seats is watching the power struggle between these two characters like a well-played game of chess. They are just two wayward lost souls with no greater star to chase suddenly brought together by a screwed-up universe, discovering things about each other through their violent encounter that leads one to wonder if Eat Me is actually a deluded love story.
Delivering a heartfelt monologue about his beautiful mother, Bob somehow manages to remove the "rapist" mask that society automatically places on such societal undesirables. Allowing us to see a misguided youth trapped inside a body that's grown into a seriously disturbed individual, reflecting the part we play as a society that embraces inequality and has created these pitiful creatures bound to impulse and ignorance. To say Carter is a multifaceted actor would be an understatement; the simple genius in every choice he makes delivers an award-worthy performance.
After being exposed to Wright's talent onstage last season in the equally crazy play Blueberry Toast, I went to this opening fully prepared to once again experience her total commitment and fearless embracement of the characters she takes on. I knew from theatre reviews of Eat Me as a play that as a film it promised nothing short of anarchy, and with Wright at the helm, I left expectations outside at the ticket booth with the lightly-salted organically-popped popcorn and the Junior Mints.
The many different unspoken layers of Tommy that gradually unfold are essential to the plot's survival despite disgusting scenes involving rape and sadism. For the writer to also find discoveries within her own work proves how well-rounded Wright is as an artist, showing us this isn't just a story about dildos and Cheese Puff-eating deplorables. She reveals a woman who could be any one of us trying to make do with what's left of a deteriorating society haunted by the truth. Our own aspirations and disappointments rise up through Tommy's heaving chest as she realizes that her rapist may have metamorphosed into something emotionally significant to her lonely heart. Again, this story is one wild ride, but Wright's writing and acting pull it off successfully.
Cruz, who makes his directorial debut as a feature filmmaker, contributes the most compelling aspect of Eat Me. No novice to the art of great storytelling, this guy brings a world to life and evokes a palpable emotional connection with the audience in spite of the difficult content. Cruz's career spans from the comic book industry to network television and, based off what I saw at the Arena Cinelounge theater on Sunday, Eat Me is only the beginning for this gifted Hollywood director.
I also must note the wonderful set design, which is so spot-on real life that it adds to the hilarity of the storyline. Cinematography, editing, and the music score by Martin Carrillo are so well-executed they're invisible to the audience. At a key moment in Tommy's descent into the dark depths of social taboo, the faint background rhythms of pounding drums actually raised the hairs on the back of my neck as it conjured a character onscreen who was releasing that primitive wild side within her residing in all of us. Eat Me is an amazing piece of work-daring and well worth experiencing on the big screen of a theatre.
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