Writer/Director Addison Heimann’s feature directorial debut, Hypochondriac, wore its Donnie Darko influence on its sleeves while tackling devastating themes of mental health via the unreliable narrator. The filmmaker continues his unique exploration of mental health from a genre lens in his sophomore feature, Touch Me, a psychosexual sci-fi horror movie that draws from retro Japanese horror, exploitation cinema, and perhaps even hentai. It infuses its depiction of a toxic friendship curdled by trauma, codependency, and addiction with vibrant style and campy fun.
Touch Me’s unassuming opening scene sets the stage. Joey (Olivia Taylor Dudley) recounts to her therapist the harrowing sexual encounter with a lover who got too rough, prompting her to flee the relationship and take refuge with her gay best friend Craig (Jordan Gavaris). It’s the type of sensitive subject matter, relayed by Dudley with an appropriate matter-of-fact sincerity, that signals a much heavier feature ahead. Especially when Joey and Craig both find themselves struggling to make ends meet, let alone get their lives together.
But that’s before the film introduces Joey’s former lover, Brian (Lou Taylor Pucci), a hip-hop-loving, tracksuit-sporting alien that lives off chicken tenders and french fries and wants to save the world with alien trees that consume CO2. Both Joey and Craig soon find themselves unable to resist Brian’s sexual prowess and a magical ability to soothe their anxieties with a simple touch.
Olivia Taylor Dudley and Jordan Gavaris have an easy rapport and play off each other well as directionless, depressed Millennial besties prone to ignoring their problems until they become insurmountable; like, say, backed-up plumbing that forces them to seek temporary lodging. Enter the scene-stealing Brian, flanked by his stern and watchful righthand Laura (Hypchondriac’s Marlene Forte). Lou Taylor Pucci’s inspired performance injects infectious energy and endless camp humor as the plucky alien who just wants everyone to be happy. Brian’s soothing demeanor and simple aims are deceptive, and his choreographed dance numbers are equally disarming. It’s bolstered by vibrant production design; Brian’s home is saturated in bold hues and design choices evocative of phantasmagorical ’60s and ’70s Japanese horror.
Then there’s the tentacle sex. Heimann boldly reinterprets addiction through psychosexual horror; sex with Brian’s true form as bizarre therapy becomes a compelling and evocative way to explore the deep-seated traumas that led Joey and Craig to this point in their lives and in their friendship. Heimann wields absurdist humor and evocative imagery to offset the dark subject matter, especially when venturing into Joey and Craig’s traumas, ensuring that Touch Me never gets too dour or heavy-handed. The downside, though, is that the comedy is so effective that it often overshadows its own emotional beats. Brian is such a larger-than-life character that, occasionally, Joey and Craig’s central friendship loses focus.
Heimann has a lot on his mind with his sophomore feature and neatly condenses it all into a quirky, eccentric psychosexual camp odyssey. While its comedic elements become far more addictive than its drama, a game cast and inspired use of cinematic influences ensure a horror film unlike any other.
Touch Me made its world premiere at the Sundance Film Festival. Release info TBA.
