SASQUATCH SUNSET - Mark Reviews Movies

Sasquatch Sunset, Bleecker Street

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Review by Mark Dujsik | April 18, 2024

If—a very big "if," at that—sasquatches are real, the presumed missing links between humans and apes might very well behave as they do in Sasquatch Sunset. Here, they're basically animals, living to eat and reproduce and ensure the survival of their little clan, and apart from how those biological and evolutionary necessities are key components of human behavior, there are flashes of things in these creatures that are recognizably human beyond the basics.

A lot of it's in the eyes, which belong to actors (of the human variety, naturally) under layers of convincing makeup and prosthetics, but there's more to it than just the light of the familiar there. It's also in how these sasquatches explore the unknown and long for some sort of connection beyond their little family and the section of the forest where they live.

Fraternal directors David (who also wrote the screenplay) and Nathan Zellner take this weird experiment of an idea and transform it into a kind of cryptozoological drama, which takes its bestial hybrid characters as seriously as if they were humans. The filmmaking doesn't treat this material as a phony documentary, for example, but as a straight, dramatic movie, in which the camera isn't capturing some replica of a real-life event but is telling a story.

In other words, it doesn't want us to passively observe what's happening as a matter of fact, as nature documentaries through their long history typically exist. Instead, it wants us to become involved in the lives, experiences, and desires of these characters, as if their lives, experiences, and desires are just as vital as any human characters whose stories someone finds worth telling.

There are moments when this experiment works, and much of that success belongs to the quartet of actors who clearly have put their all into re-creating the behavior of animals whose only standard of behavior exists in the realm of folklore and the imagination. The two stars are Riley Keough, as the only female of the family, and Jesse Eisenberg, as her mate and the father of the pair's child. These performances, along with those from the other two actors (Christophe Zajac-Denek, as the offspring, and Nathan Zellner, taking some time from behind the camera to play the father of male lead), are free of any kind of vanity.

That's not just because a lot of the action revolves around eating plants and raw meat, picking insects and nits from fur, lumbering around the woods, grunting and yelping, and urinating and defecating whenever necessary. It's also because there's no way to recognize any of these actors beneath the elaborate costumes and makeup. Gene Siskel used to judge the success of a movie by comparing it to a hypothetical documentary of its actors having lunch. By that test, the movie doesn't succeed, if only because the notion of hearing these actors discuss the physical challenges, potential embarrassment, and likely discomfort of playing these roles—in these getups and in the wild—is too intrinsically fascinating a proposition.

It mainly doesn't succeed, though, because the material is inherently limited. For one thing, it's repetitive in what these characters are capable of doing and expressing, because they are portrayed as animals, regardless of those flashes of something deeper and more human. Mainly, though, it's tough not to see this treatment as a joke, regardless of how difficult and full of tragedy the sasquatches' quest may be. No matter how convincing the costuming and makeup may be, there's never any doubt that we're watching humans playing dress-up in the woods, and so many of the gags rely on that knowledge that the endeavor remains fundamentally silly.

To their credit, the filmmakers try, though, and show us a year in the lives of these sasquatch protagonists—well, the ones who make it to the end, at least. The main male and female have some awkwardly vigorous sex, as the child and father look on, in the spring, resulting in a future baby sasquatch.

By summer, the elder's own sex drive has made him an outcast, since he can't help but try to have sex with his son's mate and anything with a hole in it, really (Another possible behind-the-scenes documentary of interest would feature the ratings board trying to determine if the regular appearance of prosthetic sasquatch genitals should figure into their determination). By fall, the remainder of the group ventures beyond their terrain, occasionally banging on trees in rhythm to see if any of their kind respond.

Obviously, there are more specifics than that broad plot outline, such as assorted rituals, a kind of sign language to accompany the grunts, and the encroachment of human activity—logging, a paved road (leading to the funniest joke, as the sasquatches forget it goes both ways), a campsite, the site of the movie's final punch line—as they journey farther from home. Death and new life play a part, too, but if the Zellners want us to take a late-entering doll/puppet seriously, there's no sign of it in the actual movie. It's just too fake to do so, and really, that's the unavoidable issue with Sasquatch Sunset in general.

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