DASHCAM Review | Movie – Empire

If there’s one factor you have to find out about DASHCAM, it’s this: sure, it’s fucking with you. Rob Savage’s second characteristic movie – his first for Blumhouse, following the success of super-sharp lockdown Zoom-seance hit Host – is imbued with the mischievous persona of an web troll, designed to shock, confound, enrage and entertain in equal measure. The opposite factor you have to know is that it’s sensible, and confirms Savage – and his co-writers and fellow producers Gemma Hurley and Jed Shepherd – to be among the many most fun voices in British cinema, horror or in any other case.

A lot of DASHCAM’s gleefully obnoxious tone comes from its central determine. Annie Hardy doesn’t simply star within the movie – she virtually is the movie. Taking part in a heightened model of her already-provocative self, the previous Big Drag musician’s artistic output was central to the movie’s genesis. As a result of simply as Host completely mimicked the expertise of a Zoom name – a realism that accentuated each expertly dealt with jolt – DASHCAM is introduced as a Periscope livestream of Hardy’s real-life web present ‘Band Automotive’, aka ‘The Web’s #1 Reside Improvised Music Present Broadcast From A Transferring Automobile’. Basically, Hardy drives round with a free hip-hop beat taking part in from her keyboard, spooling off crass nonsense lyrics based mostly on phrases her viewers write within the feedback. Throw within the context of lockdown (the characterised model of Hardy is an outspoken anti-masker with a MAGA hat and no sense of private boundaries) and smash all of it into an occult horror film, and also you get DASHCAM.

It’s a more durable promote than Host, then. However as a lot as Annie, the character, is deliberately hateful for a lot of the runtime – railing in opposition to lockdowns, breaking into previous good friend Stretch’s (Amar Chadha-Patel) flat, cackling whereas refusing to masks up — she’s additionally flippant, humorous and captivatingly anarchic. DASHCAM dares you to not be entertained by her foul-mouthed improvs (pattern lyric: “Lookin’ spherical for a butt buffet”) and oddball wit (Annie eats a pickled “Covid egg” on the deserted Beano Café). Even earlier than the horror parts kick in, it’s weirdly compelling simply watching her trigger on a regular basis carnage whereas interacting together with her followers. In genuine Periscope fashion, a gentle chat-stream within the backside left gives a operating commentary of occasions (maintain an eye fixed there for clues when the mayhem kicks in), whereas response emojis float up from the underside proper — not solely formally playful, however an actual mimicry of the real-life tech that retains every little thing completely plausible.

Savage doesn’t go away you ready too lengthy earlier than kicking DASHCAM up a gear – and, as with Host, as soon as it ramps up, it’s relentless. When Annie finds herself in command of an unwell, aged lady (performed by pilates instructor-turned-extraordinarily sport first-time actor Angela Enahoro), the movie goes hell-for-leather: put together for snapped limbs, decapitations, and a gentle stream of piss, shit, blood and vomit. Shot fully on iPhone, there’s some frenetic camerawork right here as Annie and Stretch frantically scramble for his or her lives, however Savage shows exceptional management within the chaos – the adrenaline is actual, the shocks completely timed, the required information successfully conveyed. He even sneaks in some real heat in Annie and Stretch’s love-hate friendship, displayed in snatched glimpses between immolations and demonic levitations. It’s a miraculous balancing act.

Within the second, although, you’ll seemingly be having an excessive amount of enjoyable (or be too busy cowering on the tense set-pieces) to note the care within the craft. Particularly raucous when seen with an viewers, DASHCAM delivers a head-spinningly kinetic blast of punky, Sam Raimi-esque cinematic vitality, taking part in like an unholy amalgam of Evil Lifeless II, The Blair Witch Mission and Jackass: The Film. It’s a movie that merrily doles out jolts like custard pies, with all of the blunt impression of a Fanta can to the face. Come the tip of its snappy 77-minute runtime (truly 65 minutes, minus its must-watch, oh-my-God-did-Annie-actually-just-say-that-about-Jason-Blum’s-mum? credit), you’ll really feel such as you’ve been spun in a centrifuge. In a great way. Convey your individual seatbelt, and strap in tight.