John Trengrove’s ‘Manodrome’ – Deadline

Wyatt Garfield.

There’s a rich history of films that are completely at odds with their cryptic titles – step forward Quantum of consolation–but for his follow-up too The wound, South African director John Trengrove has handpicked a Doozy, a title that sounds more like a dystopian Adam Sandler comedy than the grim tale of urban dissolution it actually is. Pictures of star Jesse Eisenberg sporting a shock of red hair for the film were also something of a misnomer and perhaps gave the impression that was the case manodromewhich premiered in competition at the Berlin Film Festival could be some kind of satirical emo fight club for sad sacks. fight club Comparisons actually turn out to be (slightly) relevant, as do callbacks to taxi driverBut manodrome is so painfully tedious and serious that it will not encroach on any of the virtual shelf space streaming libraries in the Toxic Masculinity section.

This seriousness takes some time to embed as it is so serious you wouldn’t believe it could be The serious. Eisenberg plays Ralphie, a New York City Uber driver struggling with a life change: his partner Sal (Odessa Young) is pregnant and the bills are getting harder and harder to pay, especially with the holiday season approaching. A friend from the gym, Jason, tries to stage an intervention by introducing Ralphie to Dad Dan (Adrien Brody), the charismatic leader of an intense but welcoming all-male support group. Ralphie tries to resist his generous advances, but Dad Dan finds his weak point: “You have that look,” he says. “Like no one ever showed up for you.”

Meanwhile, his relationship with Sal deteriorates, and a common motive is that Ralphie is often mentally or emotionally absent when they are together (“Where did you go, Ralphie?” Sal asks more than once). It’s a different story with Dad Dan, however, and when the latter tells Ralphie that he has “a devastating power to create and destroy…” the game moves on. Ralphie suffers some kind of meltdown and becomes a different person, tapping into his destructive instincts – perhaps fueled by steroids, an aspect of gym culture, alluding to the hopper of protein powder – and eventually going insane after Sal literally takes him with the baby leaves in your arms.

manodrome is so full of omens that for quite a while there seemed to be just endless omens, particularly in one scene where a creepy street Santa Ralphie appears to bare himself, a surreal WTF moment at odds with the hitherto realistic tone. But when Ralphie snaps, we’re suddenly in a whole different story: a first-person Meltdown movie reminiscent of the much better (but just as grumpy) Sundance entry Magazine Dreams. Eisenberg can be dark, complex, and contradictory, but downright deranged is perhaps a step beyond his position, especially when the character’s vicious homophobia unexpectedly enters the picture. It’s also a place this film didn’t really need to go to hammer home its fairly obvious thoughts on male violence, which frankly don’t really help anyone.

The film certainly has relevance at a time when vulnerable men are being nurtured and politicized, but oddly enough manodrome doesn’t pursue it at all, preferring to be a hackneyed melodrama with a tinge of fake Meaning. Such is the rapid pace of culture wars that tomorrow’s headlines all too often become yesterday’s movies.