[yasr_overall_rating]
An actress becomes obsessed with internet fame after her manager drops her for not having enough of a social media presence.
It’s not often you get two horror villain icons in one film, especially one made on a micro-budget. Yet writer/producer/director Frank Merle’s audacious low-fi follow-up to 2013’s “The Employer” (a clever little thriller, starring Malcolm McDowell and Billy Zane) does exactly that. Behold: the legendary Tony Todd (known for his memorable performance as the titular “Candyman” in Bernard Rose’s 1992 horror classic), sharing the screen (fine, not exactly, but they’re in the same movie) with Derek Mears, who donned Jason Voorhees’ hockey mask in Marcus Nispel’s 2009 reboot of “Friday the 13th.”
Don’t expect a “Freddy vs. Jason”-style smackdown (though Merle should really consider a “Candyman vs Voorhees” spin-off, involving lots of bees and swampy lakes). A continuation of sorts to 2016’s under-the-radar “2 Jennifer,” which Merle produced, the film uses its two cult stars sparsely, with Mears getting the juicier part, while Todd amps up the “creepy ham” factor in what must have been a few hours of shooting. Most of its flaws seem to stem from budget limitations; an astute satire is buried underneath the GoPro pixels and horror flick conventions. This one’s well worth checking out for all the things it gets right – because when it does, it nails ‘em.
Stephanie (a hilariously OTT Meghan Deanna Smith) is a social media star sensation. Her claim to fame? “Revealing” clips of Stephanie making out with herself and sharing lists of things she can’t live without (“cotton swabs, your mom, pickles, margaritas, pooping, coconut water” – just to name a few). The recently-fired actress Jennifer (Danielle Taddei, in an effectively humble performance) also happened to break up with her boyfriend and envies Stephanie’s popularity. Inspired by her wildly eccentric manager Chad (Todd), she starts her own blog – though her life, at least at first, proves significantly less enticing than that of her idol/friend.
One leaked sex tape and misunderstood audition later, Jennifer’s left with no manager and a hilariously nonchalant, psychotic revenge ploy. It consists of three phases and involves an eager-but-cautious bodyguard, Butch (Mears), who assists her in the increasingly screwed-up travails. “We just broke the law,” Butch says nervously, after committing robbery early on, “and everything just seems really risky to me.” “Once we get to phase three, we are going to be famous,” a calm Jennifer reassures him.
Butch does not remain so apprehensive. As Jennifer phrases it, he seems to “have impulse control problems.” We find out that Phase 3 involves wolf masks. A botched attempt to drug an unsuspecting chauvinist douche – who gets his dues moments later, mind you – and multiple kidnappings follow. As for the blood-soaked Phase 3… well, it involves a lumberjack, a popular fairy tale reenactment and Jennifer’s ultimate social media statement (“it’s going to need a lot of editing”).
Everything is viewed from the main characters’ perspectives, Merle slyly juxtaposing Stephanie’s vapid rants against Jennifer’s disturbing video diary. Breaking the fourth wall – when the characters address the camera – can be jarring (see: all the “Paranormal Activity”-inspired shlock), but “#FromJennifer” utilizes it as a technique to emphasize its sly critique of social media and the narcissism it spawns, while also pulling the viewer deeper into the experience. Merle and his team had very little money to work with and used it to their advantage. Akin to the splendid British sitcom “Peep Show,” it may take a second to get used to, but the approach ultimately serves the film.
Apart from touching upon themes of social media worship (see also: Matt Spicer’s recent “Ingrid Goes West”), “#FromJennifer” emerges as an incisive and relevant critique of the male ego. At about the halfway point, Jennifer goes off on an extended monologue about gender misrepresentation in media that eloquently summarizes the current sociopolitical climate. “Our society is fucked,” she concludes. Amen.
Her steadily-escalating rampage is more subversive than the one in, say, Austin Chick’s “Girls Against Boys,” bringing to mind classic female-centric revenge horror films like “Audition,” “Under the Skin,” “Lady Vengeance,” and “I Spit On Your Grave” – but on a minuscule scale. Without Merle’s sure-handed approach, or Daniel Taddei’s eerie calm and naivety ruling the show (just don’t call her Jenny!), this may all have fallen apart. Special props go out to Mears’ trusting and naive – but demented – Butch, who leaves a long-lasting impression.
Sure it’s a tiny film with minor aspirations, and flaws come with the territory, such as uneven acting from the supporting cast, some repetitive scenes and at times distractingly low production values. Yet it’s entertaining on its own humble terms, has a sustained atmosphere of building dread, is frequently very (darkly) funny and, most importantly, it showcases a talented filmmaker having some fun. Given a larger budget, Merle may just be the next Blumhouse mainstay. “Michael Myers vs. Hannibal Lecter”, anyone?
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