Weird Wednesdays: Pure Scum

This screening was part of the Alamo Drafthouse’s Weird Wednesday series. For upcoming shows, click here.

In Pure Scum, Privilege is a Knife

We’ve seen the cautionary tales of what happens when seemingly “good kids” go down vicious and violent roadways in life. In the wake of every tragedy where the young person responsible seemed to be upstanding and on the right track towards a well-adjusted adulthood we hear the soundbites: “They seemed so normal,” “I didn’t think they were capable of this.” Pure Scum, the debut feature from Australian writer-director Gideon Aroni, takes a deep dive into one night of chaos and violence that erupts from the poor choices of two privileged Melbourne teens, and the results are something of a mixed bag. 

Pure Scum takes a non-linear approach to telling us the story of teens Ayden (Will Hutchins) and Jesse (Nikita Chronis). Switching between true-crime style talking heads interviews with the family and friends of the pair, and then the actual events of the disastrous night they spend together, the structure creates a disorienting rhythm that keeps viewers on edge: how much of these interviews are going to be trustworthy? How do they differ from the actual events of the evening? What starts with the pair fleeing a car crash, fueled by drugs and fear. As they run into the unknown, abandoning the scene and nervously trying to talk through their next steps. All good reasoning and responsibility fly out the window as Ayden and Jesse decide to do more drugs, drink more alcohol, and ultimately leave even more destruction in their wake. As we bounce back and forth from the recollections of family and friends, and the true events as they unfold, the tension feels unbearable until the truth is revealed by the end.

At its best, Pure Scum uses its nonlinear structure and nonstop violence to create a more vivid portrait of the pair at its center. For instance, in addition to the talking head interviews and flashes of the actual night, we get small glimpses of the boys’ relationship before. Ayden (Hutchins) is determined to prove himself to Jesse (Chronis) and his friend group, and so he decides to take the lead in a drug sale. The dynamic between the two boys hits on a universal part of being a teenager: chasing the approval or affection of someone by any means necessary. It’s clear that Ayden is supposed to be the more innocent of the two and wants to impress and endear himself to Jesse throughout the film, and Jesse is the more obvious “bad influence,” that pushes Ayden towards destructive habits. However, as the night escalates, both boys resort to unthinkable violence, and Ayden turns out to be more cunning and calculated than expected. 

Ultimately, the film tries to emphasize the ways in which privilege can numb and entomb the people who benefit from it, making them removed from their humanity. The performances of Hutchins and Chronis are noteworthy because of their commitment, but also their uncanny ability to be both extremely human and disturbingly removed. There is a sequence towards the end of the film where Jesse makes a heel turn, and Hutchins plays it in a complicated way: with tears and insecure whimpers instead of grandstanding villain virtuosity. It’s a layered and welcome touch that rounds out the film nicely. 

As potent as the performances in the film are, they are not enough to give the film the proper substance it needs to carry its message: that people who wield a certain kind of economic privilege can get away with anything. This is a powerful message on its face, but the film seems more preoccupied with its rapid-fire pacing, shocking acts of violence, and overall bravado to really bring the point home. Aroni’s writing and direction are reaching for something that the final product is missing, but just barely. The violence, committed with boyish glee and rage in turn, feels like it wants to be reminiscent of other satires about the violence of youth, and how a society deals with the aftermath. A Clockwork Orange came to mind while watching Pure Scum, mainly because of the same nihilism that both films embody in their depictions of murder, rape, and general debauchery. Clockwork, however, has the confidence (and to be fair, the source material) to critique a societal system that allows violence, as well as the way society “reforms” the perpetrators of that violence. Pure Scum could have weighed in a bit beyond the ickiness of the true crime genre, and perhaps that could have made it a more impactful take on its subject matter. Still, Aroni’s knack for breakneck pacing and flair are worth keeping an eye on in future films.

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