Our protagonists, hipster buddies Woodrow (Glodell) and Aiden (Tyler Dawson), spend their time constructing weaponised muscle cars in preparation for the imminent apocalypse. An apocalypse that may or may not exist purely within these slacker mechanics' minds. The homage to the cars-and-chaos films of the '80s is proudly displayed like a hood ornament; from the smoke, sand and sunsets of Southern California to Woodrow holding up
The Road Warrior's Lord Humungus as a spiritual muse. Theirs is a world of cracked desert, cold beer and cricket-eating contests. And it is the latter that provides one of modern cinema's most curious meet-cutes; when Woodrow falls for firebrand Milly (Jessie Wiseman) after losing the competition to her. Suddenly, the buddies' current project, the aforementioned Medusa, is pushed to the back-burner... On an achingly alternative first date, a sun-dappled drive to Texas' worst diner, Milly's coy purr (''You don't want me to be your girlfriend...") ultimately takes on a more foreboding tone. What follows may not be pretty, or easy to pigeonhole, but it's certainly unpredictable. For the first half-hour,
Bellflower makes us believe we're watching a typical romance, while we wonder just where all those fast cars and loud explosions will fit in. T Thankfully, it eschews the tired tropes of a love triangle, where Milly would be nothing more than a cipher to test the buddies' friendship; yet the two storylines (love and rockets, indeed) don't necessarily lock into place. It's telling that amidst the danger the men put themselves in, their greatest threat arrives in the form of a woman. Without giving too much away, a muddled middle act sees Milly become the catalyst to a spectacular car crash. And it's this slightly misogynistic streak that proves the film's weakest point. But these scenes are mere scratches in the paintwork. From this point onwards, everything burns. The promises, the past, the photographs. Everything. And engulfed in these flames is Aiden's haphazard relationship with Milly's friend, Courtney (Rebekah Brandes) - revealing that while the apocalypse still looms ahead, the end of the world may have already come for this corner of California. Fire, both primal and cleansing, becomes the refuge of the emasculated male; with Aiden and Woodrow blasting their flamethrowers in a roar of misplaced aggression across the night sky. Here begins their revenge fantasy, a resolution both dark and genuinely discomforting. After following this motley crew of loose wires and short fuses; you just know that when the time comes, its gonna be explosive. And it is credit to the central performances that no matter what direction they turn- comedy, tragedy, romance, horror- youll find yourself in tow. Yet it's difficult to determine whether these wounds weren't self-inflicted. That the film's climactic, and most striking, scene sees a mushroom cloud tearing up the horizon is by no means a spoiler. There's more than a passing reference to suggest that these visions of post-apocalyptic gang warfare are but mere ambition.Yet you can practically smell the flames licking away at Mother Medusa, awaiting rebirth as the fieriest of Phoenixes. From the hallucinatory halo that infuses every frame to Jonathan Keevil's astounding acoustic soundtrack -which soothes and stings like a swig of whisky- debuts are rarely as dizzying and devastating as this. Do yourself a favour; pluck
Bellflower from the field of obscurity
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