A bold and energetic debut, Thomas Hardiman’s “Medusa Deluxe” is what happens when you combine an Agatha Christie whodunit with a disco aesthetic. Roaming through the backstage confines of a regional hairdressing competition, the film begins after the murder and scalping of a stylist named Mosca has already happened. Instead of focusing on a locked door mystery, Hardiman dives into the petty jealousies of competing stylists, all as they wait in their dressing rooms to be interviewed by the police.
Immediately, the film thrusts us into a room with a prime suspect, Cleve (Clara Perkins), whose speculative takes on why Mosca was murdered showcase a vindictive spirit. She drones on and on to the barely listening model — whose hair she attacks with violent vigor — and another rival, Divine (Kayla Meikle), whose chief characteristic can be easily deduced by her name. From there, Robbie Ryan’s wandering camera moves in and out of other dressing rooms, providing a blueprint of the impressively massive industrial building and various other characters with competing agendas. This includes Mosca’s husband, Angel (Luke Pasqualino), and the competition’s organizer Rene (Darrel D’Silva).
With tensions boiling over, the more extended the competition is delayed, the stylists become increasingly concerned with the movements of an odd security guard Gac (Heider Ali), eventually devolving into accusations, both about the murder and competition itself. Each character seems to have a motivation for killing Mosco. Here, Hardiman ramps up the tension while also never really fleshing out any character beyond singular traits. As their names imply, the script deals mainly with archetypes, unsure or unwilling to dig deeper into these people and their competing motivations outside of, say, their religious devotion or festering jealousy. We never even get to really see Mosco or learn anything about him until the tail end of the film.
If anything, the murder is tertiary to the gossipy takes and fanciful camera work — this film is built around vibes, right down to its pulsating score by the electronic musician Koreless and its dancehall end credits. Such an approach is helped by Ryan’s ever-moving camera, mimicking a one-shot. While the notorious ‘oner’ approach has been done to death in recent years — and feels distracting more often than not — Ryan and Hardiman nevertheless find novelty in how they hide cuts and the ways in which they manipulate time. Although the digital stitching of scenes becomes more noticeable the further into the film we get.
This fluid camerawork is also purposely juxtaposed against a boxy 4:3 frame that plays up the claustrophobia of the backstage hallways and rooms, often shooting actors in extreme close-up as they give their monologues. What those monologues state and how they affect the revolving door of suspects is ultimately less interesting to Hardiman (and the audience) than watching the actors sneer and scream at each other.
It’s all very, and purposely, theatrical in its presentation. It’s also a litmus test for the film, as its showmanship sacrifices depth for aesthetic sheen. It’s a calling card for Hardiman, and frankly, it’s quite a good one at that. But it’s also skeletal in its narrative construction, focused more on moving the camera from point A to B or showcasing Gary Williamson’s wonderful production design than it is with character or plot continuity, to the point where the mystery is basically forgotten for long stretches of time.
If one forgets, like the film often does, the inciting incident that unlocks all these petty fights, then it’s a remarkable achievement in physical production. But, by hanging these visuals on a genre that demands precise plotting, “Medusa Deluxe” can’t help but feel incomplete. [B-]