MaXXXine

2024 Directed by Ti West

The End of Summer- and it's Friday the 13th.

As an orange hue glows with smokey September skies I look forward to the coming of fall. Throughout most of 2024 I've watched a lot of films that simply fall flat- unfortunately Maxxxine is one of them. Perhaps without the buildup of the first two films this could stand on its own, but as a conclusion to the thematic ties of the first two films it let me down. Part of this is the framing of X and Pearl- which delved into the artifice of fame as an encroaching disease of the mind and body.

X put Hollywood on the same level of porn production- as the orgasmic glee of a blood spurt to ejaculation. But the world and character interactions still need to feel authentic. In Pearl there's this backdrop of dread that permeates the film- as a pandemic film reflecting on continuing cycles this gives a sense of danger bubbling up from the frame itself. By the time she's smiling in the end you get a sense that the next movie in the trilogy will be that simmer overflowing.

For Maxxxine to work it needed to boil over. Instead the only couple moments of violence are framed as arthouse- a quick overhead framing. This framing of that violence doesn't allow it to breathe- almost boxed in by any of the other goings on that have happened on screen- they could simply exist without the film. Outside of those moments however the film doesn't really have enough of the grime of the 80s to feel very dangerous. Sure, there are some references to the pornographic- but for a starlet that's been in the porn industry for a few years you'd think the hopelessness of her fame would set in as she tries to go mainstream. As a character Maxine simply exists while the supporting characters set all the momentum for the story. The nostalgic factor of 80s horror seems odd too, as most of the serial killer backdrop seems more like a 70s giallo than 80s slasher. The cult of the religious father- although playing on some of the satanic panic felt very one dimensional. The buildup of serial killings really feels like a one dimensional red herring of the giallo variety here too- with the cult not having much of a purpose but to be there.

Thankfully the New Orleans PI character Kevin Bacon plays is delightfully grotesque and scummy, but it seems like all of the other actors don't realize they're supposed to be in a grittier film. I've seen Bobby Cannavale and Giancarlo Esposito have played harrowing, dangerous characters, but are unfortunately dull here. They're left to play barely realized caricatures of a cheezy cop and barely shady porn producer.

Elizabeth Debicki is here too- and although we're told she's one of those really prickly directors, she doesn't seem to have any forceful demeanor. I was hoping for a scene where Debicki forces something out of Maxxxine to a place she didn't want to go psychologically during one of the fake film sequences. One of the set pieces is of Hitchcock's psycho house, but there isn't much utilized here aside from showing that it's another fake set. Which I suppose feels like the movie itself- only exploitative enough to have a few Hollywood actors sign on, but never as grim as the first in the series.

Mia Goth's character, for all that it's to focus on the retirement of sex work- doesn't have any particularly salacious scenes. There's no real sinister moments where her character can shine. By the end of the film there's no feeling like Maxine has had to sacrifice anything to get where she is- just following what other characters have done along the way to her new found fame, but not much in the way of blood on her hands. A film like Showgirls had more grit and pizazz and still went for the exploitative nature of the genre. Although it was lambasted for being over the top at the time- it's honestly something that Maxxxine could have had more of.

There wasn't much here in the way of horror or tension- just a thin veneer of nostalgia without any of the danger of more exploitative films that came out within the same time period. An example being Hardcore from 1979 feels like a truly harrowing gut punch of a film. Why bother making this with the aesthetics of some 80s films without all of the panache of them? Give me Body Double. Fuck-- give me NOPE as a cinematic overture to other movies. If you're going to watch something with aesthetics, and grotesque commentary on modeling or acting go watch NEON DEMON. There are simply other works that deal on the darkness of fame and aging that actually have OOMPH.. Sunset Boulevard is nexxxt.