Mark Reviews Movies: AMERICAN CARNAGE

American Carnage, Saban Films

Follow on Facebook | Follow on Twitter | Become a Patron

Review by Mark Dujsik | July 14, 2022

There's no subtlety or subtext in co-writer/director Diego Hallivis' American Carnage, which takes its title from a most contemptuous line from a most unfortunate inauguration address from an even more unfortunate President. That's one of the moments from a montage that opens this movie, showing some highlights of Hispanic and/or Latino representation in popular culture—for the positive, such as some famous faces, and for the more stereotypical, such as a talking Chihuahua selling fast food.

Then, the tone of those images and words changes. Talking heads and figures from both sides of the political aisle begin railing against immigration and, in the case of that one President and his allies and supporters, going much further. There's the typical xenophobia, of course, with its excuses of worrying about economic matters, but there's also just plain old hatred and racism, along with some hints of some underlying racial-supremacist philosophy.

Yes, none of this is particularly subtle, and when we're talking about the sort of political satire that the director and co-screenwriter Julio Hallivis (the filmmaker's brother) are attempting here, nuance isn't always a virtue, anyway. The screenwriting duo obviously have some things to say about the state of immigration, attitudes toward immigrants, and how both of those things, especially when it comes to the countries of Latin America and people of that descent, are exploited for various, cynical ends.

They've also devised a narrative hook that doesn't quite seem to match that subject. When it finally does by the third act of this story, the result is so over-the-top and stated so blatantly that maybe even a little bit of subtlety might have gone a long way. The long delay of clarifying the point certainly undercuts the effectiveness of the message, but the movie's big twist—which isn't much of one, if you connect the seemingly random dots of this plot or take just a moment to consider a particular acronym—overcompensates to such extremes that both the messenger and the message are left for dead.

After that incisive opening montage, we meet JP (Jorge Lendeborg Jr.), the son of an undocumented migrant mother. He works at a fast food restaurant, which gives him a scene of embarrassing a shameless racist at the drive-through window, and doesn't see much more opportunity for his life.

His sister Lily (Yumarie Morales) was just admitted to a prestigious university, and at a party celebrating her accomplishment, the whole family is arrested in a raid by immigration enforcement agents. The unspecified state's governor (played by Brett Cullen) has signed an executive order to round up "illegal" immigrants and charge their technically natural-born-citizen children with aiding and abetting that crime.

The resulting setup and images—of a facility with cages, people penned up in dehumanizing conditions, and families being separated—are too sadly familiar, but that's all we have of that notion. Here, the plot has JP and an collection of variously broad and/or eccentric characters—the tough Camila (Jenna Ortega), playboy Big Mac (Allen Maldonado), anxiety-ridden Chris (Jorge Diaz), and activist Micah (Bella Ortiz)—taking advantage of a kind of community service option to serve their time. They are sent to a care facility for the elderly, made to work there, and constantly monitored by ankle bracelets and the unforgiving staff.

From here, the Hallivis brothers' screenplay basically loses its bearings. The story has the young prisoners/workers trying to discover what has happened to one of their own who tries to escape, as well as the meaning behind some of the clues and behavior exhibited by the residents of the facility. In terms of the initial premise, there's very little to do with immigration, authoritarian reach of government, or anything else, really, that has been so firmly, if sometimes awkwardly, established by the story until this point.

Instead, this lengthy section has the youngsters playing detective, seeing some strange sights (an old man going through violent contortions of his body just before dying), receiving some vague hints (a name that, apparently, belongs to an owl), and generally treating the whole experience with a bit too much self-aware humor (The tonal shifts—from political outrage, to horror, to comedy, and circling around all of them—keep things distanced). The gimmick could be intriguing—although in a different story, perhaps, that's actually about the subject matter at hand.

As for the truth behind the facility at the center of American Carnage, well, it does more or less have some connection to everything the filmmakers have established. That doesn't, though, make it or scenes of characters repeatedly slamming home the point any more tenable, effective, or worthwhile.

Back to Home

Buy Related Products