When it comes to narrative mysteries, truth and reality are all a matter of perception. Some things can be argued or compromised on, others are indisputable, but they are all a matter of perception. It’s in this vein that multihyphenate Flying Lotus begins his latest project, Ash, an action sci-fi thriller that premiered at SXSW 2025 before landing in theaters. Borrowing elements from various sources, Ash is simultaneously a Lovecraftian horror story, a locked-room mystery, a love story, and an apocalypse tale, which, despite a compelling performance from lead Eiza González (Paradise Hills; Godzilla vs. Kong), ultimately reminds audiences of other films, thereby reducing Ash to a composite instead of a singular work.
Eiza González as Riya in ASH. Photo courtesy of RLJE Films/Shudder.
Waking up bruised and bleeding, a woman (González) doesn’t know who she is, where she is, or why there are dead bodies within the small structure she’s in. Making matters more worrisome, she recognizes that she’s not on Earth between the mountainous terrain, the harsh atmospheric conditions, and the purple-blue sky with its pulsating spectral-like circular form hovering in the sky around some kind of hole. Joined by Brion (Aaron Paul), a figure claiming to be a colleague who operates the orbiting station above the planet, she learns her name and her mission and also that, if they don’t leave when the next orbital alignment occurs, they will die there. But with too many nagging questions, survival becomes less important than the truth.
Let’s be clear about something right off the bat: just because a film uses a well-worn recipe for its framework doesn’t immediately mean that a film is uninspired. The construction of the world, its rules and presentation, the performances, and more are what make the difference between a replicant of a familiar work that just makes someone hunger for the original and something that utilizes it well in crafting something different. The trick is that there isn’t enough from the latter for Ash to avoid becoming the former. So even when one admires or is taken in by the strokes of artistic inspiration on display, there’s still something too familiar to make the final film resonant in a way that sets it apart. (More on this in a moment.) Let’s address what’s fascinating about Ash as that can be explored without nearing spoiler territory.
A still from ASH. Photo courtesy of RLJE Films/Shudder.
Because it extends past the room the woman (named Riya) walks up within and out into a strange world, the locked room mystery created by writer/director Flying Lotus generates curiosity from the jump through the futuristic-yet-minimal design of the structure that houses the immediate space she gains consciousness within. Before we learn the purpose of the structure itself and the team’s place within it (itself part of a significant clarion call impacting the real world), we can deduce that this is a time far from now due to the advancement of what the structure can do, but also that function matters over style, the emphasis less on the structure telling us it’s futuristic via outlandish design and more on how it will be used. This grounded approach speaks to films like Alien (1979), which took a similar approach to its art and production design: simple, elegant, and functional. Likewise, the design of the technology we see Riya use is advanced, yet familiar, denoting a logical conceptual leap in generational development. Specifically, it’s the med unit that comes in a box, yet has several functions for identifying illness and injury, recommending next steps for intervention, and aiding in diagnosis. This machine seems advanced, yet it functions like a general diagnostic aid. A smart element in its design being the default spoken-language by the machine (versus the text we see on its screen) as Japanese, furthering the notion of an international mission beyond that of the constructed crew whom we meet in flashbacks/recovered memories, while also reminding 2025 audiences that even in the present, Japan’s use of technology often seems to be “living in the future.” Because of grounding much of the design in a reasonable generational development, when we see other tech that appears potentially aesthetic-only (such as the design of the space suits with their color-filled orbs along the arms and spine), we don’t think much of it. All of these things in concert create an environment in which the plausibility of such a scenario in which tech like this would be utilized comes across as grounded and real, thereby setting the stage for unsettling phantasmagorical cosmic horror.
The problem, however, is that Ash calls its shot within the first 20 minutes or so and anyone who’s familiar with the genre can figure out where the film is going. What could be a meaty, twisty, psychological thriller powered by a propulsive performance from González is cut down right in its tracks because the audience now must cool its heels until the film (re: Riya) catches up. The mystery, now absent heat, makes the narrative less exciting and harder to engage with. It doesn’t matter if you guess all the details correctly, this one moment shatters everything, leaving only the wait for what comes after the mystery’s veil is lifted. What occurs isn’t boring, as González and Paul (Need for Speed; Bojack Horseman) trade barbs and positions as they navigate what happened to their fallen crew while trying to keep themselves alive; the issue is that one loses so much engagement by knowing where the film is going based solely on the cues it borrows from other films within the genre that the tension disappears.
Aaron Paul as Brion in ASH. Photo courtesy of RLJE Films/Shudder.
The biggest shame about Ash is how the undercurrent theme regarding humanity’s fate to destroy itself is poignant given the current political atmosphere both in the U.S. and internationally as those who pray at the altar of capitalism are willfully short-sighted in their quest for money and power while simultaneously pilfering Earth’s resources without taking steps to minimize climate impacts. Why else would Riya and her crew be on a strange planet if not for some tragedy befalling Earth? This is something that Flying Lotus makes plain in the text, but it resonates in the subtext and it’s almost entirely obfuscated by the dullness of the mystery. Humanity is the greatest danger to itself because of the way it will willingly harm itself, blame others for “making them do it,” and then side-step responsibility, all while perceiving themselves as the hero of the story. How great are we that, ultimately, it makes more sense to see humanity less as the great saviors of the universe and more as the great and terrible devourers coming to take from you what they have already masticated of their own, remaining forever unsatiated. That’s the real cosmic horror within Ash, that the call is coming from inside the house, yet, despite all the cool concepts and thematic elements on display, Ash’s inability to separate itself from other stories results in an experience that’s similarly and unintentionally parasitic of the genre instead of symbiotic.
Screening during SXSW 2025.
In theaters March 21st, 2025.
For more information, head either to the official Ash SXSW webpage or film website.
Final Score: 2.5 out of 5.
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Categories: In Theaters, Reviews
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