A cheerfully macabre comedy of misunderstandings, lies and delusion, “Terrestrial” teases with the promise of science-fiction — but it turns out the kind of fantasy at work here is less about outer space than the inner space of frantic reality-denial. An auspicious first produced screenplay for the duo of Samuel Johnson and Connor Dietrich, this Fantasia premiere also affords director Steve Pink his best feature to date, one whose tonal finesse is a considerable leap from his studio comedy “Hot Tub Time Machine” (and its sequel). While the lack of major marquee names might limit initial exposure, the mingled genre elements, subversive humor and genuinely clever, unpredictable narrative should accrue the indie production an enthusiastic cult following.
It opens with cornball footage of a retro space opera, circa the 1990s, showing protagonists on another planet after surviving some laser shootout. It turns out this adaptation of “The Neptune Cycle” is playing — perhaps watched by a bug-eyed alien — on a TV monitor in a house likewise littered with blood trails and dead bodies.
Meanwhile, a carful of erstwhile college friends are on their way to visit Allen (Jermaine Fowler), whose recent incommunicado stretch has them worried. But by all appearances he’s struck the jackpot, purportedly having sold publishing and movie rights on his fantasy fiction series for a fortune. He’s now living in a grandiose gated mansion in the Los Angeles hills, one notably decked out with pricy mementos from the multimedia career of “Neptune” creator SJ Purcell — in Allen’s estimation “the greatest author in the history of science-fiction.”
His old friends are duly impressed. But bubbly blonde Maddie (Pauline Chalamet), her smirking boyfriend Ryan (James Morosini) and obnoxiously brash Vic (Edy Modica) aren’t just here to congratulate but to make a tacit wellness assessment, at the behest of Allen’s mother. And his erratic behavior does suggest something is wrong—a suspicion seized on by the openly competitive Ryan, who fears his old rival for Maddie’s affections has surpassed him in other realms. As these guests poke around, alternately herded and abandoned by their host, someone else turns up, acting very much at home. “Who the hell are you?,” that arrival asks Allen.
At this point, half an hour in, a title informs us it’s now “3 Months Earlier,” and our hero is living much more humbly. In fact, he’s a cook at a diner, sleeping in his car, fielding publishers’ rejection letters. He is thrilled when an improbable customer takes a booth: None other than the prolific Purcell (Brendan Hunt). This is clearly Allen’s big chance… never mind that his idol gives every indication of being an arrogant jerk, or that he’s here to see a loan shark’s enforcer (Rob Yang) about some rather serious debts owed. No matter what, Allen cannot let this heaven-sent opportunity pass him by.
To reveal more would spoil too much in Johnson and Diedrich’s intricate screenplay. Their tricky structure continually recalibrates our understanding of what we’ve already seen, largely by replaying it from other viewpoints. While a big picture gradually grows clear for the audience, that courtesy is not extended to the characters onscreen (eventually also including figures played by Max Kalvan and Gable Swanlund). Misled by Allen’s mechanizations and their own individual assumptions, they arrive at false conclusions that prove extremely hazardous.
An increasingly black comedy of errors, “Terrestrial” ends in a bloodbath whose cruel injustice gets leavened by the fact that nobody here is really very sympathetic. Indeed, we’re never quite sure why the original quartet were friends in the first place. But cruelly unjust as their fate may be, they truly do deserve each other in a sense.
The film is also kept from being too coldly ingenious by Pink’s handling, which nimbly juggles numerous tonal and content levels. There’s Gen Z social satire, with all our main protagonists constantly irking one another in their separate self-absorptions; the genre camp of the ersatz “Neptune” sequences, populated by funny familiar faces like Craig Robinson and Rob Corddry; a sort of Old Dark House murder mystery flavor to the mansion goings-on Allen’s ever-escalating panic at piling one fib atop another to save face; the fantasy sci-fi world he yearns to escape into; and still more. There’s a lot going on here, unfolding in a fashion that will send some viewers back for seconds or thirds, just to better appreciate how adroitly all the moving parts work together.
The performers are equally deft, towing a line between naturalism and farcical one-dimensionality. Handsome primary locations and cinematographer Tom Hernquist’s sleek widescreen compositions provide useful contrast to the baroque storytelling, as in a different way does James McAlister’s pulsing electronic score. Paced to an unhurried yet waste-free perfection by editor Neal Wynne, “Terrestrial” is a modest enterprise so cannily handled, it plays out like a surprise package of droll delights.
variety.com
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