Fresh, 2022.
Directed by Mimi Cave.
Starring Daisy Edgar-Jones, Sebastian Stan, Jonica T. Gibbs, Andrea Bang, Dayo Okeniyi, Charlotte Le Bon, Brett Dier, and Alina Maris.
SYNOPSIS:
The horrors of modern dating seen through one young woman’s defiant battle to survive her new boyfriend’s unusual appetites.
Fresh plays out like director Mimi Cave (primarily known for shorts and music videos, making her feature-length debut) and screenwriter Lauryn Kahn (also experienced with shorts, although with a feature-length script already to her name) are ready to burn down the entire enterprise of online dating. To be fair, given stranger than fiction documentaries like The Tinder Swindler readily available on Netflix and no doubt a plethora of negative personal experiences to pull from, there’s also nothing wrong with taking that system down a peg, especially when it comes to the swaths of undesirable men outnumbering women on the various social applications.
That part is well-intentioned. However, Fresh gets so far stuck up its ass that a final punchline zinger comes across like victim shaming. It seems to be saying that this abusive situation would have never developed had the heroine decided to go on another date with an unmannered, offputting douche. One could also go a step further and take it as saying straight hopeful romantic women clinging onto the prospect of finding something sincere and wonderful and meaningful should give up because heterosexual dating is only a bunch of Chads, which is the gross date character’s name because that’s how unsubtle the jokes are here. More to the point, fuck that; I have my own unflattering stories of using online dating services, but I’ve also gotten to know some incredible people there I still regularly talk to.
Let’s meet the movie halfway; my personal feelings offset whatever the filmmakers are serving up. Fresh is amateurishly written, filled with convenient writing, plot inconsistencies, illogical character motivations, and most offensively, considering this is first and foremost a social commentary horror movie, rarely elicits dread. This is explored through cannibalism (there is also no point beating around the bush, considering the advertising is heavily selling Fresh this way).
Daisy Edgar-Jones’ Noa takes a break from online dating to pursue a grocery aisle meet-cute with awkwardly charming and handsome plastic surgeon Steve (Sebastian Stan). So maybe the regressive message is also not to take a chance on attractive people? Anyway, Fresh does take its time building a believable connection between these two while using Noa’s desire for romance as a crutch for letting her guard down and making some unwise decisions that her friend Mollie (Jojo T. Gibbs, saddled with a disappointing nothing role of a cautiously supportive Black friend that attempts to save the day when shit goes south) advises against. Nevertheless, for the most part, the honeymoon phase between Noa and Steve is used smartly, crescendoing with a black comedy title card drop signifying the end of act one and the descent into sadistic danger.
There is no denying that Steve has some twisted motives. That also doesn’t mean Fresh follows through on any of it, evoking tension or terror. If anything, the proceedings become borderline comical and absurd; the flesh is removed (and in some cases, limbs), but characters remain largely functional and alert. At one point, a character has part of their posterior removed, yet spends maybe one day lying down face first until walking around again as if nothing happened. Sebastian Stan is tasked with walking the line between playing his vile behavior seriously while also directed to make a satirical mockery of it, dancing around with meat set to one of the film’s numerous noodle drops. And while he certainly doesn’t give a bad performance, it’s also one as tonally confused as the rest of Fresh.
Characters are not conceived. They function as skeletal ideas to push forward a progressive attempt at social commentary. Even Steve’s reasoning for being so sick in the head comes down to an unsatisfactory written “I just tried it when I was 18 or 19” expository speech that goes nowhere insightful. And yes, it has to go somewhere insightful; the movie itself desperately wants to make societal statements regarding dating and power dynamics while failing to do so with meaning or without placing some of the blame on Noa (again, if the final image of the movie is not victim-blaming, then it’s a terrible joke).
At face value, Fresh also isn’t that visually repulsive, keeping the worst of it offscreen, as if it’s primarily concerned with remaining palatable to a mainstream audience. The constant licensing of pop songs further sucks away any suspense there is to be found. From a craftsmanship standpoint, the only effective work here is from industry veteran cinematographer Pawel Pogorzelski, framing shots of the other hostages from an aerial perspective which gives off a sense of unease not having a crystallized view of what physical pain they have suffered or singling out ominous close-ups of bloodied fingerprints on the walls.
There is the occasional glimpse into Steve’s personal life, which comes from Mollie tracking him down. I also don’t want to give away any surprises there, but there is another character who should be compellingly given anything else to do besides becoming another vessel for making a half-formed social statement. In terms of big reveals, Fresh has none, although it does tease the possibility of going to some truly horrifying relationship dynamic places. Still, there’s always the feeling that there’s only one way this ends, which is also a shame considering the concept of Fresh is so wildly grotesque that it shouldn’t have to settle for the obvious outcome.
One bright spot throughout all of this is that Fresh is never anything less than entertaining, even when it flies off the rails during a climax that starts out realistically brutal and riveting before outdoing itself in terms of silliness and stupidity repeatedly in 15 minutes. Sebastian Stan and Daisy Edgar-Jones are game enough for the deliciously nasty concept, playing off one another nicely (especially when their chemistry becomes sinister). But ideas and flashy performances aren’t enough to handwave away the many glaring problems here. The message the story does want to get across is not past its expiration date; it’s just rottenly told. It might as well be frozen food.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★
Robert Kojder is a member of the Chicago Film Critics Association and the Critics Choice Association. He is also the Flickering Myth Reviews Editor. Check here for new reviews, follow my Twitter or Letterboxd, or email me at MetalGearSolid719@gmail.com
Originally published March 1, 2022. Updated February 28, 2022.
