Worth: $15.50
FilmInk rates movies out of $20 — the score indicates the amount we believe a ticket to the movie to be worth
Cast:
Rav Ratnayake, Tyra Cartledge, Logan Webster, Mehdy Salameh, Rhiaan Marquez, Sam Germain, Dylan Lee, Tessa Sutton, Alannah Robertson
Intro:
...an entertaining form of chaos.
After landing a first-round knockout with the ‘80s slasher tribute Lead Me Astray, and forging the beginnings of a streak with the equally slasherific Remember Redfield, the latest from local microbudget legends Bendy Spoon Productions is a serious left hook. While the aforementioned films have a rather bizarre sense of humour, this is the first attempt by the Wonder Twins of Bendy Spoon, Tom Danger and Logan Webster, at making an all-out comedy, and a romantic comedy at that. And it certainly feels like they went all-out to make this a bewildering jewel.
Working with a relatively larger budget pays off on the technical side of things: the sound mix is finally ironed out, the soundtrack has a heavy late-‘90s vibe (that’ll happen when you snag two songs from Third Eye Blind), and the cinematography from Shane Kavanagh (Bilched) is nice and crisp, if a bit misguided in places. There’s a 360-degree long-take that emulates a drunken house party… in that it makes the audience feel nauseous because the room won’t stop spinning.
As for the romance, Danger and Webster’s script views relationships through the most extreme lens possible.
Jacob (Rav Ratnayake) isn’t just mourning the relationship he used to have; he’s damn-near close to making the funeral arrangements personally. Drew (Webster) isn’t just trying to ward off unwanted advances, he’s stuck in the web of deliciously psychotic nymph Abby (Sam Germain). It really says something when the purest relationship in the film is between a man (Max as played by Dylan Lee) and a goat.
And speaking of functioning on extremes, the plot and basically every facet of the humour follows suit, opening on a quietly-surreal nightmare sequence and then proceeding to throw in Satanic sacrifice, an ex’s new boyfriend who has his own theme song, and Abby giving Dr. Julia Harris a run for her money, among many other sanity-questioning developments. It even enters the realm of genuinely awkward with the amount of jokes about Jacob’s complexion.
Of course, firing off the problematic salvos would only imply that this film is taking itself even remotely seriously, which it categorically isn’t. It’s far more content to revel in the emotional chaos of love than try and deliver any real solutions. But with the frenzied and relentless gags, and on-point delivery, it’s an entertaining form of chaos. Meet Sweethurt on its own terms and you’ll be in for a real rib-bruising.
