Worth: $15.00
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Cast:
Annie Hardy, Amar Chadha-Patel, Jemma Moore, Angela Enahoro
Intro:
...an affective horror whose subtext is the toxicity of internet culture and the side-effects of extreme political leanings.
In DASHCAM, director Rob Savage’s (Host, 2020) latest foray into found-footage pandemic-inspired horror, the perils of lockdown prove far too cumbersome for foul-mouthed, Trump-supporting, American-in-London, Annie (live-streamer Annie Hardy).
Despite her extreme MAGA views, to describe Annie as a conservative seems incorrect given her caustic demeanour and penchant for inspiring outrage; the traits which have granted her moderate fame through a popular live-stream where she waxes lyrical (her rapping, also problematic behaviour) about her quarantine-induced frustration. Don’t even try to tell her to wear a mask…
Fed-up with life in quarantine, Annie breaks for London, reuniting with friend and fellow muso Stretch (Amar Chadha-Patel, a natural). It is soon apparent that time has changed the once budding duo, with Annie’s disregard (to call her an interloper would be putting it mildly) over Stretch and his partner’s (Jemma Moore) leftism bringing her to breaking point.
Frustrated, Annie, through her own wild volition, ventures out on the open road. Here, Annie encounters a visibly distraught and mask-adorned woman named Angela (Angela Enahoro, haunting). Agreeing to transport Angela to a distant location in exchange for cash, supernatural mischief unfolds, leading Annie on a bloody and spooky mission of survival.
Online, Annie regurgitates the same repulsive obscenities you would expect to find in a YouTuber’s comment section. She is indoctrinated into this noxious mindset, with her legion of followers encouraging her outrageous behaviour through emojis and messages of support that permeate throughout the film.
It is through the film’s live-stream framing and Annie’s clear disregard for the pandemic where Savage and his screenwriters, Gemma Hurley and Jed Shepherd (Host co-writers), astutely capture the air of disregard exhibited by those who have fanned the public safety versus freedom divide; transforming this anti-government movement into an affective horror whose subtext is the toxicity of internet culture and the side-effects of extreme political leanings.
There is a repulsiveness to Annie that makes her a tricky character to navigate: she sneers at Black Lives Matter signs, feels entitled to enter property unannounced (something that attracts big trouble in a horror film), says offensive things and is unafraid to act flagrantly in public. Had this been a slasher, Annie would be the first to die. It is because of her problematic exhibitionism where she becomes incredibly unlikeable to the point of disgust, particularly as the events of the film don’t so much soften her radicalism as they calcify it (just watch the audience count when it hits the fan).
Savage sprinkles extra flour into the batter, stretching DASHCAM out into feature-length. This becomes a detriment to the film and sparks short-lived and repetitive thrills that must occur given the limited number of characters there are to spare. That said, there are truly confronting set pieces in DASHCAM, with Savage and the team using the moorland landscapes to establish an effective eeriness.
DASHCAM does a nearly seamless job of connecting its found footage setup with a free-flowing story. (The two concepts marry together in today’s influencer obsessed world.) The Blumhouse production shows that the most terrifying possession is not one of body, but one of ideals.
