The first rule of storytelling is this: “The story must make sense.”
As humans, we use myths, legends, and stories to not only better understand the world around us but also to give our various experiences some kind of individual context. We process the provided information – i.e. the characters, their circumstances, their respective journeys, etc. – on the supposition that there’s some intrinsic meaning wrapped up in all of it. Ultimately, this is the only way we can arrive at the ending and know full well what we – as observers – might take away from what would otherwise be random and unrelated events strung together without any cohesion. Mind you, we don’t all have to achieve a singular consensus: the message I take from art could be markedly different from what the person sitting next to me infers. Still, it’s incumbent upon the storytellers to take the steps necessary to, minimally, put it all together in some relative shape; if not, then the journey is fruitless … except for the fact that we took it together.
There are a growing number of filmmakers who seek to not so much deliver morality plays as they wish to impart a position upon the audience hoping to inspire what they assert might be positive cultural transformation. More often than not, these stories are showcased at film festivals or university theaters as opposed to achieving full theatrical release; and – like it or not – some of that is owed to the fact that the narrative technique requires a bit more intellectual participation (if not outright supposition) by the audience. They’re the kind of yarns that just don’t resonate with the average moviegoer; and – for better or worse – they need a bit of extra effort to gather the level of attention perhaps deserves. This isn’t a judgment on their quality or relevance so much as it is an explanation for why they’re likely always to be relegated to niche crowds … the kind of thing your big university academic is always willing to push on impressionable young men and women. They watch them, and they talk about them, sometimes for hours on end. It’s a cerebral affair, not something to be undertaken lightly.
My issue critically with films of this variety is that I find them too nebulous, too unapproachable; and that’s the case with Jennifer Reeder’s only vaguely interesting Perpetrator (2023). IMDB.com bills it as a ‘Teen Horror’ – a category I didn’t even know existed – and it’s really everything but ‘Horror’ and an awful lot of ‘Teen.’ It depicts the story of Jonny, a young woman who is somewhat ‘transitioning’ from a biochemically normal teenager into something … well … it’s never quite clear … and that’s only the start of the problems to this woefully misguided attempt to deliver a story that fundamentally may very well be about nothing at all and everything in between.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Jonny, a wild and impulsive teenage girl living precariously in a town where young women continue to go missing, and the power she's forced to unlock to survive.”
As humans, we use myths, legends, and stories to not only better understand the world around us but also to give our various experiences some kind of individual context. We process the provided information – i.e. the characters, their circumstances, their respective journeys, etc. – on the supposition that there’s some intrinsic meaning wrapped up in all of it. Ultimately, this is the only way we can arrive at the ending and know full well what we – as observers – might take away from what would otherwise be random and unrelated events strung together without any cohesion. Mind you, we don’t all have to achieve a singular consensus: the message I take from art could be markedly different from what the person sitting next to me infers. Still, it’s incumbent upon the storytellers to take the steps necessary to, minimally, put it all together in some relative shape; if not, then the journey is fruitless … except for the fact that we took it together.
There are a growing number of filmmakers who seek to not so much deliver morality plays as they wish to impart a position upon the audience hoping to inspire what they assert might be positive cultural transformation. More often than not, these stories are showcased at film festivals or university theaters as opposed to achieving full theatrical release; and – like it or not – some of that is owed to the fact that the narrative technique requires a bit more intellectual participation (if not outright supposition) by the audience. They’re the kind of yarns that just don’t resonate with the average moviegoer; and – for better or worse – they need a bit of extra effort to gather the level of attention perhaps deserves. This isn’t a judgment on their quality or relevance so much as it is an explanation for why they’re likely always to be relegated to niche crowds … the kind of thing your big university academic is always willing to push on impressionable young men and women. They watch them, and they talk about them, sometimes for hours on end. It’s a cerebral affair, not something to be undertaken lightly.
My issue critically with films of this variety is that I find them too nebulous, too unapproachable; and that’s the case with Jennifer Reeder’s only vaguely interesting Perpetrator (2023). IMDB.com bills it as a ‘Teen Horror’ – a category I didn’t even know existed – and it’s really everything but ‘Horror’ and an awful lot of ‘Teen.’ It depicts the story of Jonny, a young woman who is somewhat ‘transitioning’ from a biochemically normal teenager into something … well … it’s never quite clear … and that’s only the start of the problems to this woefully misguided attempt to deliver a story that fundamentally may very well be about nothing at all and everything in between.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Jonny, a wild and impulsive teenage girl living precariously in a town where young women continue to go missing, and the power she's forced to unlock to survive.”
Years ago, one of the problems I experienced as a critic was being told by a filmmaker that because I was a male there would always be certain films which “escaped” my understanding and, therefore, my appreciation. (Before you even guess: no, the filmmaker was not a woman. It was a man. And his film was shit.) While I can’t even begin to imagine what goes on in the female mind, I – as a human being – should still be capable to ‘seeking to understand’ at least for the purpose of grasping any story; and it’s this foundation with which I do attempt to crossover into works which otherwise might pass me by. I’ll never pretend to ‘get it all, but I’ll always give it my best try because I do believe art – especially film – deserves to be celebrated by the widest audience possible.
So …
Perpetrator tells the story of Jonny (played by Kiah McKirnan), a budding flower on the cusp of womanhood who also descends from a subset of civilization with the unique ability to ‘shapeshift’ owed to some kind of accelerated empathy. As best as I can tell, these empaths can only be female – no explanation or factual foundation was provided by writer/director Jennifer Reeder so I’m just rollin’ with it – and, like puberty, it’s the kind of biologically transformational growth that isn’t predictable and results in personal chaos. While it appears superficially to be reasonably similar to hormonal changes, the script’s few exposition sequences never quite nail it down to the point wherein it made perfect sense to me … but, as I said above, maybe that’s because I’m male.
In any event …
Perpetrator tries to say a great many things about Jonny and the world she inhabits. Often a victim of oppression (mostly provided by – you guessed it – men), the young woman loses herself in the usual vices of lying, stealing, sexual proclivity, and the like. While she’s not exactly painted as a feminist, it’s still increasingly clear that she prefers women, mostly as she’s never been in the presence of a positive male role model her short, sweet life. (Fight the patriarchy, am I right?) In these circles, Jonny will likely always be a victim unless she can find a means to use her femininity and these associated powers to enact the changes to the world and those around her, not all that dissimilar to the universe as depicted in the lyrics of Beyonce’s “Run The World (Girls).”
Because this is Reeder’s narrative construct, Jonny is shackled with a deadbeat dad (or is she?), some deadbeat male classmates (those who objectify her and unintentionally lure her into being kidnapped), and some ridiculously oppressive male school administrators. For the most part, these men are all played histrionically, making them entirely unbelievable when paired against the women who are all just seeking to find their place in society with kindness and gentleness apparently only afforded to the fairer sex. But, sadly, the incongruity here – the fact that men are obtuse and women are down-to-earth – gives Perpetrator the feeling of farce … without any of the laughs.
Of course, it doesn’t help matters that Jonny’s dear aunt Hildie (Alicia Silverstone) – as the story’s resident source of exposition – delivers her lines in a deadpan, droning intonation, the kind of which is either meant to promote whimsical mystery or put audiences to sleep. In the past, Silverstone has proven herself as an actress to be exceptional adept at comedy; and I can only guess that’s what she and Reeder were going for here despite the fact that there’s a great deal of bloodletting associated to her screen time. Unfortunately, none of it makes a lick of sense; and I found myself even rewinding a scene or two for a quick replay, thinking I’d missed a bit of context when nothing was inevitably provided.
In several ways, Perpetrator felt like it was reaching for narrative ground not unlike 1989’s Heathers or even 2004’s Mean Girls; but the ridiculous mess of ideas never quite congealed around any central thread. Relatable moments – such as Jonny’s theft of a sequined dress which makes for a greater scene early in the picture or a few of the girls’ bathroom scenes where she and her classmates gather to discuss social strategy – are few and far between, leaving them lost in the shuffle of pools of blood appearing everywhere (literally everywhere) that seemingly serve as gateways to other realms. (???) About the time when something happens to give the film some momentum, Reeder throws another curveball into the mix; and I found myself increasingly frustrated with what turned out to be unhinged vignettes made surreal for surreality’s sake. There’s just no narrative traction, only a miasma of broken sequences building to nothing.
So …
Perpetrator tells the story of Jonny (played by Kiah McKirnan), a budding flower on the cusp of womanhood who also descends from a subset of civilization with the unique ability to ‘shapeshift’ owed to some kind of accelerated empathy. As best as I can tell, these empaths can only be female – no explanation or factual foundation was provided by writer/director Jennifer Reeder so I’m just rollin’ with it – and, like puberty, it’s the kind of biologically transformational growth that isn’t predictable and results in personal chaos. While it appears superficially to be reasonably similar to hormonal changes, the script’s few exposition sequences never quite nail it down to the point wherein it made perfect sense to me … but, as I said above, maybe that’s because I’m male.
In any event …
Perpetrator tries to say a great many things about Jonny and the world she inhabits. Often a victim of oppression (mostly provided by – you guessed it – men), the young woman loses herself in the usual vices of lying, stealing, sexual proclivity, and the like. While she’s not exactly painted as a feminist, it’s still increasingly clear that she prefers women, mostly as she’s never been in the presence of a positive male role model her short, sweet life. (Fight the patriarchy, am I right?) In these circles, Jonny will likely always be a victim unless she can find a means to use her femininity and these associated powers to enact the changes to the world and those around her, not all that dissimilar to the universe as depicted in the lyrics of Beyonce’s “Run The World (Girls).”
Because this is Reeder’s narrative construct, Jonny is shackled with a deadbeat dad (or is she?), some deadbeat male classmates (those who objectify her and unintentionally lure her into being kidnapped), and some ridiculously oppressive male school administrators. For the most part, these men are all played histrionically, making them entirely unbelievable when paired against the women who are all just seeking to find their place in society with kindness and gentleness apparently only afforded to the fairer sex. But, sadly, the incongruity here – the fact that men are obtuse and women are down-to-earth – gives Perpetrator the feeling of farce … without any of the laughs.
Of course, it doesn’t help matters that Jonny’s dear aunt Hildie (Alicia Silverstone) – as the story’s resident source of exposition – delivers her lines in a deadpan, droning intonation, the kind of which is either meant to promote whimsical mystery or put audiences to sleep. In the past, Silverstone has proven herself as an actress to be exceptional adept at comedy; and I can only guess that’s what she and Reeder were going for here despite the fact that there’s a great deal of bloodletting associated to her screen time. Unfortunately, none of it makes a lick of sense; and I found myself even rewinding a scene or two for a quick replay, thinking I’d missed a bit of context when nothing was inevitably provided.
In several ways, Perpetrator felt like it was reaching for narrative ground not unlike 1989’s Heathers or even 2004’s Mean Girls; but the ridiculous mess of ideas never quite congealed around any central thread. Relatable moments – such as Jonny’s theft of a sequined dress which makes for a greater scene early in the picture or a few of the girls’ bathroom scenes where she and her classmates gather to discuss social strategy – are few and far between, leaving them lost in the shuffle of pools of blood appearing everywhere (literally everywhere) that seemingly serve as gateways to other realms. (???) About the time when something happens to give the film some momentum, Reeder throws another curveball into the mix; and I found myself increasingly frustrated with what turned out to be unhinged vignettes made surreal for surreality’s sake. There’s just no narrative traction, only a miasma of broken sequences building to nothing.
Is this what she’s trying to say about the feminine experience? That it goes nowhere?
Even though I’m a man, I’ll always argue that nothing could be further from the truth, regardless of gender.
Without spoiling it, Perpetrator gets good use out of the female abduction subplot. Basically, the school’s best and brightest young ladies are being snatched by some vile culprit; and the whole campaign inevitably turns out to be fueled by a male obsessed with keeping his young love looking young. (Trust me: it should make sense when you see it.) That, too, winds up being inconsequential in a script that arguably needed a stronger centerpiece around which everything could’ve maintained orbit. As this one unfolds, there’s a pervasive sense that little will add up in the big finish; and it doesn’t. Like one of those Choose Your Own Adventure novel, the effort closes out like someone tore the last few pages from the book, implying the final destination escapes us all.
Sadly, Reeder missed the entire point of her closing scene: you can’t have your cake and eat it, too.
Perpetrator (2023) was produced by Divide/Conquer and WTFilms. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can attest that the sights and sounds are respectfully high quality: there’s a bit of visual trickery here – the face-changing sequences – that, sadly, I found a bit obvious and underwhelming. It works for what it is, but it still looks fairly low quality. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? This is Arrow, and they don’t disappoint. There’s an audience commentary from the writer/director along with a few little bits some might find interesting if for no other reason that they provide an explanation for – ahem – what the flick was ultimately trying to accomplish. I’ll leave it up to each of you to determine whether it hit the mark or not and just say this one was not for me.
Alas … this one is Hard To Recommend.
Here’s the thing, folks: a movie that requires a college level dissertation to make any damn sense narratively is not a movie. It’s a message – probably a political or cultural one – that, at best, is going to appeal to a niche audience. As hard as it tries (and it does try very hard), Perpetrator makes little sense, spiraling out more like character gibberish that’s meant to mean something only to the elite few who were let in on ‘the moral of the story.’ Now, I’ve no problem with that whatsoever – I encourage all creators to do what they want and follow their heart – but don’t expect me to get in line behind the social engineering. Minimally, a film has to stand on its own … and this one doesn’t even rise to the occasion.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary industry copy of Perpetrator (2023) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Even though I’m a man, I’ll always argue that nothing could be further from the truth, regardless of gender.
Without spoiling it, Perpetrator gets good use out of the female abduction subplot. Basically, the school’s best and brightest young ladies are being snatched by some vile culprit; and the whole campaign inevitably turns out to be fueled by a male obsessed with keeping his young love looking young. (Trust me: it should make sense when you see it.) That, too, winds up being inconsequential in a script that arguably needed a stronger centerpiece around which everything could’ve maintained orbit. As this one unfolds, there’s a pervasive sense that little will add up in the big finish; and it doesn’t. Like one of those Choose Your Own Adventure novel, the effort closes out like someone tore the last few pages from the book, implying the final destination escapes us all.
Sadly, Reeder missed the entire point of her closing scene: you can’t have your cake and eat it, too.
Perpetrator (2023) was produced by Divide/Conquer and WTFilms. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can attest that the sights and sounds are respectfully high quality: there’s a bit of visual trickery here – the face-changing sequences – that, sadly, I found a bit obvious and underwhelming. It works for what it is, but it still looks fairly low quality. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? This is Arrow, and they don’t disappoint. There’s an audience commentary from the writer/director along with a few little bits some might find interesting if for no other reason that they provide an explanation for – ahem – what the flick was ultimately trying to accomplish. I’ll leave it up to each of you to determine whether it hit the mark or not and just say this one was not for me.
Alas … this one is Hard To Recommend.
Here’s the thing, folks: a movie that requires a college level dissertation to make any damn sense narratively is not a movie. It’s a message – probably a political or cultural one – that, at best, is going to appeal to a niche audience. As hard as it tries (and it does try very hard), Perpetrator makes little sense, spiraling out more like character gibberish that’s meant to mean something only to the elite few who were let in on ‘the moral of the story.’ Now, I’ve no problem with that whatsoever – I encourage all creators to do what they want and follow their heart – but don’t expect me to get in line behind the social engineering. Minimally, a film has to stand on its own … and this one doesn’t even rise to the occasion.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary industry copy of Perpetrator (2023) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
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