Photosensitivity Warning: There are multiple sequences — some short, some prolonged — of intense strobing and glitching effects, which may trigger migraine or other neurological issues.
In the age of digital media, developing parasocial relationships occurs before most even realize it. So easily do people have access to others that the notion that some comments or interactions cross a line of propriety doesn’t even occur in the moment. With such easy access to actors, artists, poets, and athletes, the reality that these are people and not some toy to be brought out to entertain you when you’re bored somehow gets lost in translation. As a result, people post whatever they want, whenever they want, unconcerned with the reality that their shitposting or random one-off is directed at a living, breathing person. Screening during Atlanta Film Festival (ATLFF) 2024 ahead of its theatrical/digital release is the new slasher from director Raymond Wood (1st Summoning), co-written by lead actor Jenna Kanell (Terrifier series/Renfield) and Todd Jacobs (Trap Door in the Sun), Faceless After Dark, which turns its bloodied edge toward the audience, twisting the slasher genre so that the blade lacerates the audience in a meta exercise that entertains as much as it shames.
Jenna Kanell as Bowie Davidson in FACELESS AFTER DARK. Photo courtesy of Dark Sky Films and Atlanta Film Festival.
After starring in a clown slasher film, Bowie Davidson (Kanell) finds herself burdened by niche fame. She’s famous enough to get booked at horror conventions, but at the same rates at her co-stars and certainly not for other acting gigs, forcing her to make ends meet via Cameo-like videos where she recites catchphrases for dollars. Making matters worse are the endless spewing of filth directed at her online for her attire, beliefs, and behavior, and the string of caller ID-less calls that endlessly ring on her phone. Frustrated and alone at home, things come to a head when a crazed fan in a killer clown mask breaks into her home looking to fill out their sick cinema fantasies.
Before jumping into the review proper, if you’re reading this before watching the film, make sure to prepare yourself with whatever you need to handle intense strobing. At the top of the film, Wood places a trigger warning and, thanks to covering the film remotely for ATLFF, I was able to take a migraine med before continuing on with the screening. Even then, I needed to take additional measures during and post-watch in order to reduce the chances of a migraine. Whereas there are some films which feature sequences that are stylistic, the use here is both that and important to the emotional arc Bowie is going through and, at times, is part of the meta aspect of the narrative. That said, this is not a film that those with photosensitivity should experience without some kind of protection, so be sure to keep that in mind before buying a ticket at the theater or renting online. Safety first.
Now, on with the show!
Jenna Kanell as Bowie Davidson in FACELESS AFTER DARK. Photo courtesy of Dark Sky Films and Atlanta Film Festival.
For the unaware, the Terrifier series is a clown slasher film with two out in the world and another coming in October 2024. Having not seen the film, this review won’t speak to the similarities or differences between the two fictional worlds, but it’s clear that there’s a line being drawn between Bowie as character and Kanell as artist/real person. Given the number of actors titled as “Scream Queen” or “Final Girl” who have had trouble shedding that persona and find themselves locked in by society at large, Bowie can easily be seen as a cypher, an avatar for what actors (male and female) experience when pigeon-holed and objectified. This goes back to the idea of parasocial relationships and the ways in which randos presume that access equals intimacy. That just because someone is an actor and they get paid to perform, that they must crave attention at all times. Or that because there’s a social profile up somewhere and the individual has posted photos or videos, they are inviting lewd comments or propositions. Within the first 30 minutes of the 86 minute thriller, Bowie is subjected to so much degradation as a public figure by her supposed “adoring audience” that it truly makes one concerned for Kanell as co-writer. That perhaps, in the vein of “write what you know,” they’ve opted to funnel the vitriol sent their way for having the audacity to (a) exist and (b) do so as an actor. (For quick clarity, research for this review suggests that Kanell is gender non-conforming female, using she/her and they/them pronouns, while Bowie appears to use she/her.) Faceless lays the groundwork quickly that doing a job and being in public comes at a cost and the price comes in the form of the kind of men who presume that if anyone puts themselves on the internet or on film, or exists out in the world, that they are there for the pleasure of the man. Amusingly, this film is hitting screens around the time when the internet is abuzz with the question “Man or Bear?,” and it provides a resounding and unequivocal answer. So when Bowie is at a convention and is called numerous times by a number with no associated name, when online commenters berate her, when unsolicited DMs detail what the sender thinks she deserves, a worldview of filth and degradation forms, which causes more than a little pause within Bowie and, hopefully, within the viewing audience as Bowie is a person commodified and only treated as such.
As the lead of the film, Kanell is devastating for a number of reasons. The story is, in many ways, raw; depicting a person left unintentionally isolated who’s going through some things that she keep close. Because of this, Kanell presents Bowie with festering rage that trickles out onto her own real relationships (though there’s certainly room to analyze the two supporting characters, Jessica and Ryan (Danielle Lyn and Danny Kang, respectively), for their complicity), laying the groundwork for where Kanell’s script goes. Being in the majority of shots, Kanell faces the responsibility both on and off the page for holding down Faceless and she does it with incredible ease, disquiet and disgust forming appropriately as the tale goes on, yet the audience being unable to look away as Kanell mesmerizes in the role and the script makes a case for audience collusion.
This last part is where the film really makes a lasting statement about the relationship between art and artist, the life cycle of trauma, and commodification. Without spoiling details, we’ll go to an innocent question asked by a convention goer who paid for a meet-and-greet with Bowie, “what’s next?.” For an actor beholden to casting directors, this can be a tricky thing, requiring that an actor put themselves out there again and again for an indeterminate time, facing rejection after rejection, and doing it all again until booking a gig. It’s painful on the psyche and Bowie’s entire demeanor changes when she’s asked, struggling to give the excited-yet-awkward fan an answer. She’s a part of this one thing people know, but can she do more? She’s given herself to this thing and is defined in large part by it, but what else does she have? What else can she sacrifice of herself? So when a fan arrives at her house wearing a killer clown mask and brandishing garden clippers, is the next thing her life just to sate a sick fan’s fantasies? If she survives, she’ll be asked “what’s next?” as if survival isn’t enough and, even then, you can imagine the stories that people will want to make of the experience, like Wes Craven so beautifully does with the fictional Stab films in his Scream universe, like the true crime industry does right now. Asking “what’s next?” carries the weight of suggestion that what someone is doesn’t matter until they give you something new, something to consume, something to ingest — otherwise what value are you as a person? Horror provides an excellent venue for this kind of social exploration, allowing for some bloody satisfaction to go along with it.
R: Jenna Kanell as Bowie Davidson in FACELESS AFTER DARK. Photo courtesy of Dark Sky Films and Atlanta Film Festival.
As stated, this reviewer hasn’t seen the Terrifier films but understands them to have a reputation for violence and gore. To that end, be advised that Wood does bring the pain, but captures it in a way that centers the victim and not the act. This is to say that we know someone is being perforated, but we’re not explicitly shown it occurring. So, if gore is a problem for you, lower the expectations as the execution is more focused on reactions from the injured than the injury itself. That said, the violence remains visceral in the depiction and the meaning to the narrative, a narrative which is likely to deservedly inspire a myriad of think pieces from more spoiler-friendly writers. It’s a script that screams “Are you not entertained?” while slashing a blade across your throat, aware that audiences are paying good money to see murder and mayhem. Faceless After Dark is fury made manifest and captured on digital, using the language of horror to decry the symbiotic relationship that exists between artist and audience. Those who get it will laugh, but know why they’re laughing and be willing to consider the face they see in the darkness as more than shape, but as a human, too.
Screening during Atlanta Film Festival 2024.
In theaters and on digital May 17th, 2024.
For more information, head either to the Faceless After Dark official ATLFF 2024 webpage or film website.
Final Score: 4 out of 5.
Share this:
Categories: In Theaters, Reviews, streaming
Leave a Reply