Review: Woodshock

Image courtesy of A24.

Fashion designers have, on a few occasions, become filmmakers and - at least in one case - achieved some success. Take, for example, Tom Ford, whose "A Single Man" was a good movie and his follow-up, "Nocturnal Animals," an even better one. Unfortunately for Laura and Kate Mulleavy - the duo behind the brand Rodarte - their debut film, "Woodshock," is a series of interesting images in search of some sort of cohesive viewing experience.

Anyone who has read my reviews should be fully aware that I tend to be intrigued by experimental, avant-garde and off-the-wall cinematic experiences that often are not easily categorized or explained. Hell, the best thing I've seen this year - so far - is David Lynch's "Twin Peaks: The Return" and two of my favorite movies of 2017 are "Mother!" and "Personal Shopper."

"Woodshock" aims to be in the company of the experimental gods, and while the Mulleavy sisters can be commended for conjuring up some eerily haunting imagery throughout the film, it's all at the service of a viewing experience that is frequently confusing and, more than often, tedious. Kirsten Dunst, a game actress whose performance in "Melancholia" is among my favorite of the decade, has a presence that makes us want to watch what she's up to - but she's given little to do here, other than wander around in a daze and, during one particularly unexplainable moment, commit an act of brutal violence.

As the film opens, Dunst's Theresa is assisting in her mother's suicide - the woman appears to be ill, but no other details are given - via some sort of drug that is smoked. During the course of the picture, Dunst appears - I'll be using this word quite a bit, mind you - to give the drug to several others, including a teetering old man, as well as use it herself. In between, she hangs out with several men: boyfriend Nick (Joe Cole), some guy named Johnny (Jack Kilmer) and possible employer Keith (Pilou Asbaek), who appears to be set up as some sort of bad guy, but in an inexplicable way.

And that's basically all I can tell you, other than Theresa gets increasingly weirder - during one scene, she nails down a number of wooden planks in her yard, is scolded by Nick and then removes them - and spends a lot of time in the woods, either floating - due to the drug she is taking - or laying down on the ground in a manner that is oddly reminiscent of "The Virgin Suicides," one of many films that used Dunst's ethereal screen presence to better use.

My best explanation of what then occurs: some stuff happens. Theresa attacks a man with a steaming iron because, well, you tell me. The camera focuses on trees being sawed down in the Pacific Northwest community where Theresa apparently lives. During one of the film's glaringly obvious moments, Theresa asks her lumberjack boyfriend whether he "regrets chopping it all down" - I paraphrase - and it's obvious that she's not only referring to his work in the logging industry.

Also, some sort of environmental theme flows through the film and the Mulleavys appears to be making the strange suggestion that Theresa's assisted suicide effort is somehow comparable to damaging the earth. At least, that's what I took out of it. Either way, "Woodshock" is both promising and stultifying. The Mulleavys are capable of producing some lovely and occasionally haunting images, but "Woodshock" doesn't put them to good use. If the sisters make a second film, I hope their talent behind the camera results in something more satisfying.