Strange Darling at Fantastic Fest: Love to Kill in New Electric Thriller

A day in the life of a serial killer in a non-stop gut rush thriller full of gnarly surprises.

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JT Mollner’s Strange Darling, which just made its premiere at Austin’s Fantastic Fest, begins with Chapter 3. Opening with a scroll and voiceover telling us what follows is a true-story dramatization of the late killings of a serial killer’s murder spree. The title sequence presents Willa Fitzgerald as “The Lady” and Kyle Gallner as “The Demon.” Then, “A THRILLER IN SIX CHAPTERS.” What follows is slow and dangerous, meticulous and exciting—a barnburner psychosexual game of cat and mouse that splits wide open in all ways across each subsequent chapter. Mollner (Outlaws and Angels) excitedly presented the film wishing the audience a fun ride, and it is.

Chapter 1: The linear beginning of this story. Two horned-up individuals in a car sharing a buzzed conversation, talking to seemingly savor every word and wrangle of tension. “Do you do this often har har,” kinda talk. The Lady boldly addresses the atmosphere, all too real life or death risks inherent to casual hookups in today’s landscape. Some versions of “be honest, are you a serial killer?” and “So you know what it’s like to experience being a woman looking for casual sex?” This is something you’ve seen or experienced before, no accident. 

Throughout this scene, it compelled me to no end how an individual/character sips, raises, inhales, exhales, reacts in small moments like such. I chuckled to myself when I found my hand involuntarily reaching to sip my glass bottle of Topo Chico. (There are buckets of them lining the Kubrick-dedicated Alamo hallways.)  They both sip beer from their bottle and make their eyes. Curious eyes, liberal hands, and worried expectations. We had our glimpse; we know what’s to come.

On the screen, Fitzgerald and Gallner command the frame, seducing the audience in actual seconds. Early on, they talk in The Demon’s truck like slow revelation, a stationary dance. He offers The Lady a backseat beer. She accepts. Well, maybe a slip of his whisky. I want to say she vapes in the first frame we see her. The Demon claims it to be worse than a cigarette. He puts two in his mouth and lights them. He passes one to her. She is seen enjoying it. And then another. The two are… remarkably sexy smokers. The chemistry between them is so goddamn good, sexy as hell fit with literal lip-biting. Strange Darling also has a sweet supporting cast. There is a delightful scene with Barbara Hershey, Ed Begley Jr., and buttery pancakes. Mollner admitted this was shot on the first week of production and the producers were concerned about the dailies coming out of this slasher/thriller.

From “the beginning,” the couple of the night bounce off each other in an oddly natural rhythm of escalating boundary pushing. Audience and character edges alike are anticipated, acknowledged, poked, prodded. It never crosses the threshold you think it might, and you really think it will, making it truly nail-biting to watch. Mileage will absolutely vary, especially after a loud, unambiguous introduction. The six-chapter-and-an-epilogue structure was no gimmick, and greatly works to milk the juiciest tension out of the story. It’s how Strange Darling places each chapter in relationship to another, letting the viewer decide how it informs and allowing the pacing to never skip a beat. Each chapter in its order feels crucial to how the audience interprets each moment, each move. It boils down to what is essentially a 90-minute chase sequence, literal and psychological. Back and forth, in and out, get out, get the fuck away.

Strange Darling is a beautiful looking film, shot on 35mm by veteran actor Giovanni Ribisi (Avatar, Lost In Translation, Sneaky Pete), who worked as a first-time director of photography and producer. The print is gorgeous and full of rich reds that glisten cherry in light and turn blood rich in the shadows. Deep and glistening reds shine in a hotel bathroom coated in a harsh ruby hue. A car interior totally neon blue save for the orange glow of a slow-burning cancer stick. The rich, glistening green of Oregon forest pines. The colors are always full measure. The language of Strange Darling is set very early on. The colors beam, looking fantastic by any metric. Never just accomplished in bright colors, there is a scene towards the finish that involves a plug-in freezer that makes use of the most invigorating angles. In short, he freaked it.

A title card boldly states Strange Darling was shot on film. It’s a statement—a style-setter, one met with applause and cheers from the audience. I kind of have to ask myself though, why are we announcing it again…? Show not tell or whatever right? Then again, shooting analog is rare in this era of filmmaking, this is true. I suppose this is more in service to style than informing the audience. A part of me wishes the setup trusted the audience picking up on cues to inform preconceived ideas of what This Kind Of Movie Is Supposed To Be. Opposed to going out of its way, very early on, to tell us so.

The film’s prologue/title sequence is black and white turning to vivid glistening color. It’s cool, but it’s unclear what it is in service of, is the sell here a fucked-up fairytale or the true story slasher thriller? It's dreamy but nightmarish, glistening and ugly. Is this a black and white in spirit of true story account dramatization or a technicolor thriller? Is this a Fargo opening credits situation? Not for one second did I believe this is a true-story dramatization. It’s a setup we have seen many-a-times before, but this is the intention. 

Music—to my delight—is a virtue of the film. Original songs written for this film—recorded by artist Z Berg—are the silver bullet. I don’t think I really noted its effectiveness until Mollner talked about its roots in the Q&A. A collaboration long in the making, with the music written during production and not after. It's romantic and tragic, soft, light, edgy. An excellent addition to the film. The only song that’s not original to the film is “Love Hurts,” which lost any novelty on its like, third, fourth play? Like, I get it dawg. I…we….get it. Otherwise, A+.

One key component in Strange Darling’s success is explicit verbal consent, especially in two key scenes. Boundaries, expectations, expression. I’m not sure I’ve seen it articulated this well in many (any other films? It is crucial to be unambiguous about, it holds the audience’s trust. Familiar boundary limits pushed and bubbles burst, the eternal orgy of fear and desire. With its storytelling framed with chapters in flux, I relished in its the film's deliberate, tactile escalation. Landing in the thick of it, backward then forward but never feeling scrambled. The Devil in the details.