The paranoia of aliens among us has been a popular theme in films, often presented in response to looming political and environmental threats. It’s also shown up during eras when the pressure to conform has risen to a fever pitch. It was a relief in the 1980s when we were allowed to finally fall in love with wayward aliens once they turned out to be benevolent.
The Becomers is a unique kind of alien picture in which the main characters are the lost aliens, in this case two genderless soul mates who have recently escaped an apocalypse on their home planet. While on Earth, their only chance at survival is snatching human bodies and using them to try and fit in. As it turns out, the logistics involved lead to so many complications the space duo must constantly find new bodies and often end up losing each other along the way. Each time they achingly search for the other, what starts to emerge and endure from this strange stew of body horror and mumblecore humor is a heartfelt love story.
Part of the film’s conceit is that the aliens have to change bodies like clothes; therefore, we’re presented with a parade of characters that come and go, briefly presented as human costumes: a hunter, a pregnant woman, a married couple who have just kidnapped the governor of Illinois. This presents plenty of opportunities for acting showcases, with standout performances from Isabel Alamin, Molly Plunk, Anne Ruttencutter and Keith Kelly. They may not be household names, but are all quite obviously fiercely committed to every inch of this lo-fi experiment.
And it’s this deep commitment that makes the movie shine despite its bargain basement vibe. Right from the word go, the inferior video look and cavernous sound evoke the atmosphere of a Neil Breen production. Russel Mael, one half of the pop duo Sparks – supposedly added for casting clout – makes the narration sound almost decidedly amateurish. This is the film’s first impression, but it’s a deceiving one. Low budget constraints aside, this is a movie bursting with ideas, and its cumulative power achieves something magical. There are so many inspired choices made scene by scene that the experimental daringness begins to bear fruit. We eventually care about these aliens as their fate becomes vital. The film also succeeds in a particularly unique feat: making the aliens appear to be the ones who are “normal.” Vulnerable, awkward, eyes that glow – sure – but still, relatable. The humans, on the other hand, get weirder by the second.
It helps that the whole movie is set during peak COVID. Not only are we reminded how bizarre everything got back when everyone was wearing masks however it randomly suited them, but the isolation everyone felt also comes roaring back, along with peer pressure to assimilate, and the ever-present, nagging question: “Am I the alien … or is it literally everyone else?”
There’s one particular set piece in a basement that definitely transforms the movie from a potentially disposable endeavor to something that firmly stands its ground with other cult classic alien staples like Under the Skin. Not only is it diabolically bizarre, but it also becomes a climax for assorted bits and pieces that comprise the film’s strengths: the absurdist humor, the affectionate attention to detail, the peace-loving point of view and – most importantly – the unbreakable bond that exists between our two extraterrestrial lovers.
This film’s quirks might be inaccessible and its cheap aesthetic too low-grade for mainstream audiences, but its charms might work for those eager — or desperate — to see something truly different.
Photo courtesy of Dark Star Pictures
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