In a rare case of introspection, Dylan (Ben Hunter), a brash brother in his 20s, beams at the possibility that there might be someone else out there who might actually offer him the kind of friendship he longs for. A sheepish smile spreads across his face, but the spell is immediately broken, leaving him feeling exploited. It’s a short exchange and easy to miss, but it illustrates the lack of meaningful intimacy between him and his closest colleagues.
This moment of vulnerability follows a night of mischievous games and unsavory discoveries that tests the bonds between a group of friends and acquaintances during a fateful party in “Birdeater,” a thrilling Australian horror-tinged score that manages to deliver unease and unease through confident, consistently in-your-face stylistic choices. Hunter still steals the show throughout with his infuriating performance as the arrogant Dylan, but it’s the character’s best friend Louie (Mackenzie Fearnley) and his future wife Erin (Shabana Aziz) who are at the center of this story. We are drawn together as conflicts take increasingly dangerous risks.
Breaking with tradition, Louis decides to invite Irene to this men-only celebration—an early montage suggests their romance is moving along in a strange, perhaps even disturbing, dynamic. But don’t think for a minute that having women in their lives will completely hinder the “boys will be boys” mentality of Louie and company. To compensate for Dylan’s button-pushing antics, there’s the more demure Charlie (Jack Bannister), whose relationship with Grace (Clementine Anderson), who’s also in attendance, is based on pretending to be a virgin just like her. Rounding out the group are two free agents: Louie’s indifferent friend Murph (Alfie Gledhill), who will be part of the surprise, and Sam (Harley Wilson), Erin’s best friend who has sparked Louie’s jealousy.
Through their lively, bold scattering of images and sound, director duo Jack Clarke and Jim Weir conjure an unsettling mood similar to that seen in other films about reunions that reveal the cracks in platonic and romantic relationships. Think “All My Friends Hate Me,” “You’re Next,” “The Invitation,” or the more recent “That’s What’s Inside,” but in this case you’re mostly dealing with inner demons, not physical violence.
However, the duo’s approach to “Birdeater” is to deploy effectively disorienting filmmaking that eagerly uses all the tools of the medium. An eerie soundscape covers your ears at all times, rarely allowing for a moment of complete silence. It’s the lively, fast-paced, almost erratic quality of how editor Ben Anderson puts together cinematographer Roger Stonehouse’s unnerving images that produces a visceral visual mix. Close-ups of faces lit by fire or the reflection of flames in Dylan’s playful glasses as he psychologically tortures Louie show a deep interest in how the frames immerse us in this distorted state of mind. These aesthetic sensibilities operate outside of the realm of drug-inspired scenes, where most filmmakers focus their unconventional gimmicks.
Instead of simply lecturing on the simplistic idea of a man being a “good guy” for showing minimal compassion and decency, the directors navigate more morally questionable waters. And as much as Louie’s secrets — some of which Dylan reveals out of spite and some through his troubled tongue — may paint him as a predator, the potential victim of his questionable actions may be more than just a willing accomplice in his troubling past and problems. Self-serving motives. That Clarke and Weir avoid making “Birdeater” just another unfair takedown of toxic masculinity, and instead dwell on the grotesque, turns their debut into a more compelling thriller for both characters and viewer.
Almost everyone present pretends to be a better version of who they are, manipulating the truth to construct acceptable personas whose undesirable traits should not be talked about. Irene feels that she owes Louis her loyalty, but this feeling derives more from self-preservation than martyrdom. The apprehensive Fearnley convincingly plays the beleaguered Louie as if he’s always on the verge of exploding, fighting to maintain a façade of calm even as he begins to unravel. Spiking drinks, a traveling gentlemen’s club that seems borrowed from a David Lynch vision, and a nighttime drive from hell while wearing a leather mask turn his special occasion into a horrific nightmarish ordeal.
Despite his gruff behavior, or perhaps because of it, Dylan is considered the most honest of the group. His alienating behavior occurs in almost complete transparency. They know what they’re doing with him – or at least they suspect they do. The same cannot be said for his scrambling counterparts. Ultimately, the characters remain at an emotional distance, but this likely also reflects how their relationships with each other feel. The directors go for an experimental artistic spirit, albeit a more ambiguous one in terms of narrative, resulting in an exciting cinematic journey alongside unlikeable people. “Birdeater” aims to convey the discomfort and distrust that its protagonists experience, like a corrosive virus transmitted across a screen.