Famously, no evidence exists – at least currently – to prove the existence of Bigfoot. If it did, it might look something like Sasquatch Sunset. Directed by brotherly duo Nathan and David Zellner (Damsel, Kumiko, the Treasure Hunter), the film is dialogue and narrative-free, exploring the lives of a dysfunctional unit of sasquatches living somewhere in the Californian wilderness. Unconventional in both form and scope, Sasquatch Sunset was one of the most unusual entries at this year’s Sundance Film Festival, attracting both admiration and derision for its ardent commitment to a decidedly one-note gimmick. Not much happens throughout, other than a straightforward, if rather grotesque, depiction of the imagined daily ins and outs of a cryptid family’s existence. It’s the equivalent of Chantal Akerman’s Jeanne Dielman, 23 quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles, if Jeanne Dielman was a sasquatch, and spent most of her days pissing, shitting and farting in the woods.
It’s easy to question the utility of a film like this. For one, why? But apparently, quite a few people wanted to see Sasquatch Sunset made. There are a stunning 26 executive producers attached to the film, including stars Jesse Eisenberg and Riley Keough, who spend its 89-minute runtime masked under layers of unrecognizable prosthetics. Another executive producer who has been heavily pushed in the marketing is director Ari Aster (Hereditary, Midsommar), who similarly pushed the boundaries of good taste in his most recent film, Beau Is Afraid. In all fairness, it was likely difficult to pitch this premise as a financeable effort, and if the number of executive producers is indicative of anything, it’s that a lot of passion went into the project. This enthusiasm is undeniably present on-screen, since Sasquatch Sunset manages to be bizarrely poignant and artful in spite of its frequent reliance on repetitive gross-out humor.
Our nameless family of sasquatches, performed by Eisenberg, Keough, co-director Nathan Zellner and Christoph Zajac-Denek, each have their own distinct personalities and quirks. As the only female in the group, Keough spends much of the film fending off unwanted sexual advances, especially from Zellner’s aggressive and oafish bigfoot. She’s also pregnant, and eventually gives birth to an adorable sasquatch baby who talks in bizarre, high-pitched squeals. Eisenberg is neutral, while Zajac-Denek is the most childlike and innocent member of the clan. Split into four chapters, the story begins in the spring and ends in the winter, during which certain events will occur that alter the dynamic of the group. For the most part though, the movie is comprised of a series of short vignettes, each of which culminates in at least one of the sasquatches doing something gross‒or dying. It’s difficult to describe, and really something you have to experience for yourself.
There’s plenty to like about Sasquatch Sunset, especially from a technical and craft perspective. Cinematographer Mike Gioulakis (It Follows, Us) captures some undeniably gorgeous compositions, encompassing the grand scale of the nature that surrounds our titular creatures. Shot on location in Central California, the vast locales and animals that inhabit the forest are as much characters in the film as the sasquatches themselves, lending the third act a stealthily tender environmental subtext. Indicative tokens of human habitation gradually invade the natural space, such as tents and trees demarcated by loggers with a big red “X.” Towards the end of the film, two of the sasquatches witness smoke raging from a wildfire several miles away. The feeling is mournful rather than humorous, as if the last vestiges of a near-human experience lived in total accordance with nature are sinking forever into the horizon. A memorable score by the Octopus Project adds to the emotional heft and grandness of the film’s thematic scope.
Artistry aside, though, Sasquatch Sunset is often more boring than funny. There’s only so many times you can show two sasquatches having vigorous forest sex, getting unpleasant erections or purposely taking a massive dump (and peeing) in the middle of an empty road, before the results become exceedingly tiresome. It’s a novelty project, singular yet limited, whose appeal will wear off quickly for those not immediately attuned to the Zellners’ hyper-specific wavelength. It’s unfortunate, because the last 30 minutes present the daring promise of a raunchy concept utilized for more meaningful ends. But the hour it takes to get there feels twice its length, operating as clumsily and laboriously as the sasquatches themselves. Perhaps the simple fact that Eisenberg and Keough even starred in this, despite their presence adding nothing substantial to the film (the prosthetics are too heavy to allow for any discernable shifts in facial expression), is enough of a joke in and of itself. They clearly had fun, but the enjoyment doesn’t always translate over to the audience. Its unique strengths aside, this big foot leaves a disappointingly small footprint.
Photo courtesy of Bleecker Street
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