Please Note: “The Carnivores” was originally scheduled to premiere at the 2020 SXSW Film Festival. With the express consent of the representatives of the filmmakers, we present the review of the film here.
People underestimate the power that pets possess over human relationships. Although the notion of co-owning a dog, cat, or an otherwise adorable animal with a partner might appear harmless at first glance, rest assured, jealousy and inconvenience are bound to disrupt the human connection at some point. Consequently, one can assume that adding sleepwalking, sexual frustration, and parental issues into the mix would only further complicate matters, but Caleb Michael Johnson’s psychological thriller “The Carnivores” explicates on these elements with an emboldened, tension-fueled grasp of realism that coalesces into an insightful, perhaps too retable depiction of neurotic affection.
To play devil’s advocate, the details of Alice and Bret’s relationship seem moderately simple enough on the outside: Alice loves Bret, Bret loves Harvie, her dog, and Alice hates Harvie—or, to be fair, Alice is envious of the constant attention that Bret feeds to Harvie every minute of every hour of every day. It’s an understandable situation to be in…until Bret’s precious pooch goes missing. Combine the lost pup with Alice’s habitual sleepwalking and the vegan’s escalating fascination with meat, and, soon, the couple’s world is flipped on its head as distrust and hostility threaten to rip their relationship apart.
Floating somewhere between a sickly daydream and a hallucinatory ode to passion, “The Carnivores” keeps its aspirations simple, a declaration that might suggest a point of critique but rather functions as the film’s outstanding highlight. Johnson’s sophomore feature (the follow-up to his debut “Joy Kevin”) never loses sight of its goals, which are to furtively entice the viewer, intelligently analyze the contorted psyches of its lead characters, and consistently impart an unceasing sense of uneasiness throughout the movie’s 77-minute runtime.
Generally speaking, “The Carnivores” fires on all cylinders, capitalizing on the alluring components native to quality independent films, offering an alternative, imaginative, and inspired method of storytelling boosted by captivating performances and the singular vision of an exceptional director. Likewise, Tallie Medel and Lindsay Burdge, who play Alice and Bret, respectively, maintain an irrefutable authenticity and legitimate chemistry throughout, which, in addition to Johnson’s razor-esque editing, provides a dynamic undercurrent that preserves the film’s kinetic, unpredictable energy.
Peeling away the exterior genre components of “The Carnivores” reveals the tender, somewhat confused examination of romantic mania that slithers beneath its skin. Despite Alice’s clingy desperation and Bret’s disaffected aloofness, neither woman exhibits traits unnatural to the typical romantic relationship. Instead, Johnson delves into these components through an untraditional perspective, a viewpoint that profits off honesty and a nauseating atmosphere, a delirious, unreliable ambiance that could plausibly elicit comparisons to “Raw” or “Trouble Every Day,” but sustains a distinctive identity of its own.
Excising the feature’s fatty experimental flourishes would streamline the narrative—some of the film’s surrealist inflections fall flat—but “The Carnivores,” in spite of the occasional misstep, balances artistic embellishments and character-based storytelling with relative expertise, a venture that claims the lives of countless indie flicks intent on accomplishing a similar task.
To an impatient or close-minded observer, the edges of Johnson’s alt-thriller might feel unrefined and coarse to the touch, but its lo-fi, infectious aesthetic brings a bittersweet soul into the spotlight. Akin to its troubled protagonists, “The Carnivores” is a flawed, but effective psychodrama that preaches about the warped insecurities and repulsive anxieties of love with a confident tenor. [B]
