In a rare instance of introspection, Dylan (Ben Hunter), a rowdy bro type in his 20s, beams at the possibility that another person might genuinely be offering the kind of friendship he yearns for. A shy smile crosses his face, only for the spell to be immediately broken, leaving him feeling used. It’s a brief, easy-to-miss exchange, but one that evinces the lack of meaningful intimacy between him and his closest mates.
That moment of vulnerability follows a night of insidious games and unsavory revelations that test the bonds among a group of friends and acquaintances during a fateful buck’s party in “Birdeater,” an engrossing horror-laced ensemble piece from Australia that successfully instills uneasiness and discomfort via confident and consistently in-your-face stylistic choices. Hunter remains a scene-stealer throughout thanks to his anger-inducing performance as overbearing Dylan, but it’s the character’s best bud Louie (Mackenzie Fearnley) and his wife-to-be Irene (Shabana Azeez) who are at the center of this get-together gone awry where conflicts take on increasingly dangerous stakes.
Going against tradition, Louie decides to invite Irene to this typically men-only celebration — an early montage implies their romantic relationship runs on an odd, maybe even disturbing dynamic. But don’t think for a moment that the presence of the women in their lives will completely hinder the “boys will be boys” mindset of Louie and his pals. To offset Dylan’s button-pushing antics, there’s the presumably more level-headed Charlie (Jack Bannister), whose relationship with Grace (Clementine Anderson), also in attendance, is founded on the pretense that he is a virgin just like her. Rounding off the group are two free agents: Louie’s nonchalant friend Murph (Alfie Gledhill), there to be part of a surprise, and Sam (Harley Wilson), Irene’s close friend who ignites Louie’s jealousy.
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With energetic and bold splatters of image and sound, directing duo Jack Clark and Jim Weir conjure up a similarly disquieting mood as that in other films about reunions exposing the cracks in platonic and romantic relations. Think “All My Friends Hate Me,” “You’re Next,” “The Invitation” or the more recent “It’s What’s Inside,” but in this case dealing mostly with inner demons and not physical violence.
The pair’s approach to “Birdeater,” however, is to deploy effectively disorienting filmmaking that avidly employs all of the medium’s tools. An eerie soundscape coats one’s ears throughout, rarely allowing for an instant of complete silence. And it’s the lively, fast-paced and almost erratic quality of how editor Ben Anderson assembles cinematographer Roger Stonehouse’s unnerving imagery that produces a visceral visual concoction. Close-ups of firelit faces or the reflection of the flames on Dylan’s playful glasses as he psychologically tortures Louie showcase a profound care for how the frames immerse us in this warped state of mind. These aesthetic sensibilities operate beyond the drug-propelled sequences, which is where most filmmakers would concentrate their more off-the-wall tricks.
Rather than simply lecturing on the simplistic notion of a man being a “good guy” for exhibiting bare-minimum empathy and decency, the directors navigate more morally dubious waters. As much as Louie’s secrets — some revealed by Dylan out of spite and others by his own restless tongue — might paint him as a predator, the would-be victim of his questionable actions might be more of a willing accomplice with their own troubling past and self-serving motivations. That Clark and Weir avoid rendering “Birdeater” just another righteous takedown of toxic masculinity, and instead dwell in the uncanny, turns their debut into a far more compelling thriller for both the characters and the viewer.
Nearly everyone present is pretending to be a better version of who they are, manipulating the truth to build acceptable personas whose unflattering traits should not be spoken of. Irene feels she owes Louie her loyalty, but the reason for that sentiment derives more from self-preservation than martyrdom. A convincingly apprehensive Fearnley plays the embattled Louie as if perpetually about to explode, fighting to maintain a façade of calmness even as he begins to unravel. Spiked drinks, a mobile gentleman’s club which seems borrowed from a David Lynch vision and a nocturnal drive from hell while wearing a leather mask transform his special occasion into a nightmarish, dread-fueled ordeal.
Despite, or maybe because of his curt demeanor, Dylan stands as the most honest of the group. His off-putting behavior occurs in near full transparency. They know what they are in for with him — or they at least suspect it. The same cannot be said about his scrambling counterparts. Ultimately the characters stay emotionally at arm’s length, but that’s likely also reflective of how their relationships with one another feel. The directors go for an experiential, if more narratively ambiguous artistic ethos that results in an excitingly cinematic trip alongside unlikable people. “Birdeater” aims to transmit the discomfort and mistrust that plagues its protagonists, like a corrosive virus contracted via the screen.