The allure of the crime spree couple has been fascinating moviegoers for decades. Bonnie and Clyde kicked things off in the real world, and since then, we’ve been blessed with an array of persnickety, high-strung duos like Pulp Fiction’s Honey Bunny and Pumpkin or {Heathers}’ Jason and Veronica. Because it’s an oft returned-to trope, new stories can sometimes feel like they’re just going through the motions, and while the first half of Keir O’Donnell’s directorial debut Marmalade might seem like it’s taking things in a predictable direction, rest assured that it absolutely is not.
The hero of our story is Baron (Joe Keery). An optimistic but simpleminded young man and recent convict who talks with a high-pitched, meek southern accent and seems to possess an unbridled romanticism for the love of his life and partner in crime, Marmalade (Camilla Morrone). When he first meets his cellmate Otis (Aldis Hodge), he is carrying a stack of extra clothes and a single roll of toilet paper, which make him appear small even in the close quarters of his new jail cell. Almost immediately, he tells Otis that he needs his help in escaping by 3:30 PM the next day, and that if Otis helps him, Baron promises to give him the full lump sum of the quarter-of-a-million dollars that he and Marmalade stole from a local bank. His unthreatening demeanor puts Otis off his guard, and he agrees to help, but only if Baron tells him how he ended up in jail. Baron obliges, and what follows is a seemingly rote tale of boy-meets-manic-pixie-dream-girl and experiences a Garden State come-to-Jesus moment that changes his life forever. Or so it seems.
It’s hard to talk about Marmalade without giving too much away. So much of the film’s fun lies in its ability to play on and eventually break the tropes of the romantic crime drama. But viewers can rest assured that the movie has more than a few tricks in its jam jar. Keery is dazzling as Baron, leaning into the character’s submissive tendencies to give a performance very unlike his more famous role of Steve “The Hair” Harrington (though Baron does still love his long locks and refuses to part with them). This is refreshing to see, especially when it can be easy for stars to get conflated with their larger-than-life on-screen counterparts. Marrone also gives a classic, quirky dream girl performance worthy of that one TikToker who became famous for her impressions of an “absolutely insufferable female lead of an indie movie.” Maronne is enticing and unhinged all at once, making her the perfect embodiment of both a femme fatale and a Ramona Flowers dupe. Hodge is equally as memorable as Baron’s tough but sympathetic cellmate, and even when the movie’s rules change, he effortlessly goes where the script takes him without missing a beat.
Some viewers might feel like the second half of the film tries to do too much in too short a time, but while things do pick up relatively quickly, the film still works because the actors make it work. Marmalade is a movie that pulls from all different source materials. There are multiple influences spanning everything from Scott Pilgrim to Rachel McAdams in both The Notebook and Mean Girls. Even Baron’s ill-fitting, blue jumpsuit feels like a casual, humorous nod to Michael Myers — as if Baron, despite his best efforts at looking the part, can never truly become the criminal Marmalade desperately wants him to be.
O’Donnell has proven that he has what it takes to make an entertaining film (he also wrote the movie’s script), and Keery shows that he is still magic on screen even without the Farrah Fawcett hair (four puffs!). Marmalade is a whole lot of fun that also happens to take on larger issues like Big Pharma (yes, really) in unique and exciting ways. And though it might not be winning any ribbons at the local county fair, it’s still a sweet treat worthy of your morning toast.
Photo courtesy Brainstorm Media
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