So let’s talk about puzzleboxes.
A puzzlebox, in narrative terms, refers to a film or story which presents itself to the audience as a riddle, deliberately opaque in a way which (we hope) will be resolved by the story’s conclusion; the mystery is not “Whodunnit?” so much as “What’s going on?” This genre, or rather mode, rose to popularity in the 2000s with such JJ Abrams TV projects as Lost and Fringe, but its roots can probably be traced back to the final moments of M. Night Shyamalan’s The Sixth Sense, and that dizzying rush when we all realized what was really going on. I first saw The Sixth Sense on the bus for a school field trip to Washington, DC in ninth grade, and all of our little minds were so thoroughly blown that we demanded the teachers play it again on the ride back. Say what you will about Shyamalan’s work as a filmmaker since then, but I can’t think of many with so confident a sense of storytelling to exert that sort of power over an audience.
Yet it’s not quite right to describe The Sixth Sense as a puzzlebox itself. Shyamalan, like Rod Serling before him, knew that the trick to pulling off that sort of reveal was to make sure the audience didn’t see it coming. Up until that pivotal moment, we don’t know we’re watching a puzzle; we’re watching a film about a kid who sees ghosts through the eyes of his psychiatrist, and we are fully invested even before we learn that that’s not quite the whole truth. Shyamalan knows that, in order to successfully pull the rug out from under us, he has to lay down the rug in the first place.
Strange Darling, on the other hand, makes clear its puzzlebox intentions right out of the gate. Following a brief expository scroll (clearly inspired by John Larroquette’s introduction to The Texas Chain Saw Massacre) explaining that we are about to witness the last few murders of the most prolific serial killer of the 21st century, we see a title card announcing the film as “A Story in Six Chapters,” which immediately gives way to a card that reads “Chapter Three.” We see Willa Fitzgerald (whose character is credited only as “The Lady”) running terrified from Kyle Gallner (“The Demon”), who is brandishing a shotgun in between liberal doses of cocaine. No sooner has the Lady found apparent safe haven in a secluded cottage than the ticker jumps to Chapter Five; the owner of the house is dead, the Lady is hiding in a meat locker, and the Demon is stalking through the house, inching ever closer to his prey. We then wind the clock back to Chapter One, in which we see the Lady and the Demon at the outset of what is clearly destined to be the worst Tinder date of all time.
This is about all I can tell you about the plot of Strange Darling without giving away too much about its various twists and turns– indeed, it is a film more or less constructed from twists and turns– but canny viewers might be able to spot the issue here. As movie watchers, we can easily decode the story here: Gallner is a serial killer who has lured his victim through an online dating service, and Fitzgerald is the final girl who (we hope) will be the one to get away. However, because Strange Darling so plainly announces itself as a puzzle to be solved, we know that this can’t be the whole story– and we become so distracted by trying to figure out the film’s game that it’s hard to invest in the story itself.
This, in a nutshell, is my problem with most contemporary puzzlebox thrillers. By inviting the viewer to try to get ahead of the narrative, they run the risk of the viewer prematurely succeeding. I more or less discerned the shape of the twist not long after the events described in the above plot description, and while I don’t necessarily view “spoilers” as a hindrance to enjoyment of a film, I can’t help but feel I would have had a better time if the filmmakers had allowed Strange Darling to unfold naturally; even the nonlinear structure would have worked better if they hadn’t all but announced “THIS FILM FOLLOWS A NONLINEAR STRUCTURE.”
All of this is a shame, because once you strip past the gimmickry Strange Darling has quite a bit going for it. Fitzgerald is phenomenal as the film’s unconventional final girl; with her wry grin and bone-dry comic delivery, she at times recalls a young Famke Janssen. Gallner is always a joy to watch in this sort of material, a sort of dirtbag Bruce Campbell for the modern horror renaissance (this is the part where I remind you that Dinner in America is one of the best romantic comedies of the 21st century and you should go ahead and stream it on Hulu). The 35mm cinematography, by actor turned first-time DP Giovanni Ribisi, is eye-catching; if Ribisi occasionally overdoes it with look-at-me camera tricks, it’s a forgivable excess when balanced against the digital sludge currently in vogue. And some of the side touches, like a pair of loopy aging hippies played by Barbara Hershey and Ed Begley, Jr., give the film an agreeably off-kilter tone to offset its oft-harrowing violence.*
Which makes it all the more disappointing that Strange Darling can’t seem to get out of its own way. The great plot twists, from Planet of the Apes to 2022’s excellent Barbarian (which Strange Darling’s posters and trailer directly invoke), work because they don’t call attention to their narrative mousetraps until they’ve already been sprung. Instead, Strange Darling recalls the empty plot gymnastics of something like The Perfection, so eager to impress that it ends up difficult to truly love. These modern puzzleboxes feel depressingly tuned to the “movie sleuths” of Reddit and YouTube, who view films as games to be beaten and outsmarted rather than experiences to be savored. I quite enjoyed many elements of Strange Darling, but ultimately I found myself bouncing off the artifice of it all. It would have been a lot smarter if it was less concerned with being clever.
* – By odd coincidence, Begley, like Ribisi, is an actor with a certain degree of experience in the cinematography department; a pre-fame Begley served as assistant cameraman on the cult classic creature feature Equinox.
Strange Darling
2023
dir. JT Mollner
97 min.
Opens Friday, 8/23 @ Kendall Square Cinema, Alamo Drafthouse Seaport, and assorted AMCs
Cinema is subjective, and what may frustrate one viewer could resonate deeply with another.
The film’s deliberate pacing, criticized as “slow,” could alternatively be viewed as a meditative exploration of grief and trauma. It allows for a nuanced portrayal of the characters’ inner lives, inviting the audience to sit with their discomfort and contemplate the complexities of their experiences.
Similarly, the “underdeveloped” plot threads might be seen as an intentional choice to mirror the messiness of REAL LIFE, where closure is not always guaranteed. This ambiguity can be thought-provoking, encouraging viewers to actively engage with the narrative and draw their own conclusions.
The tonal shifts, perceived as inconsistent, seem to represent the unpredictable nature of human emotions, especially in the face of loss and healing. This juxtaposition of humor and sadness adds a layer of authenticity to the film, reminding us that even in the darkest of times, moments of levity can exist.
The open-ended conclusion, while perhaps unsatisfying for some, leaves room for interpretation and continued reflection. I’m still talking about it after having seen it at Fantastic Fest in 2023. It invites viewers to carry the characters’ stories with them, pondering the possibilities and implications long after the credits roll.
Ultimately, Strange Darling is not a film for those seeking easy answers or a neatly packaged resolution. It’s a challenging and contemplative work that demands patience and an openness to ambiguity. It may not resonate with everyone, but for those willing to embrace its complexities, it offers a rewarding and emotionally resonant experience.