Written and directed by Jakob Hakonson
An absurdist, tragic dark comedy
A blown-out tire. Stolen suit. A desperate shortcut
and a universe that is relentlessly dealing out
cosmic punishment.
The film
An absurdist, tragic dark comedy where we follow a desperately sweating, neurotic insurance salesman — stuck in a spiralling series of unfortunate events that eventually forces him into action as he joins an enigmatic drifter on a whirlwind crime spree.
The fun comes from a collision of bizarre, seemingly random trajectories—with a finale that can’t end in anything but a clusterfuck.
“A darkly funny, stylized, at-times absurd story… an innately character-driven piece with the capacity to connect on a deeper level.”
The thing is… we are so adept at evading the truth. And it becomes clear when you look at…
…and you see every poor bastard who ever spilled coffee on his crotch or rear-ended the car in front of him.
Okay, so…
Whose entire existence is built on selling the ultimate American lie: security. Meanwhile, his own life is a terrifying, unpredictable nightmare.
“Likable and sympathetic, but crippled by fear and indecision… rife with flaws and contradictions.”
When he finally runs out of options, he desperately seeks solace in a stranger he met on the street named John.
All of a sudden, he is in this cynical world of low morals and pathetic roadside survival.
It’s not about the right or wrong choices; you are screaming for him to find the smallest victory.
And so…
He’s this beautifully burnt-out, wildly charismatic operator. A magnetic, cynical swagger that projects a guy completely one-hundred-percent immune to the consequences of life.
“The perfect foil. Charismatic, mysterious, and magnetic… keeping the audience at arm’s length in a way that makes us lean in, not out.”
Smoking a cigarillo, preaching this gospel of total, zen-like detachment. He genuinely believes he’s a ghost—untouchable because he has absolutely nothing left to lose.
But that is the pathetic tragedy of the guy: it is all a front. Peel back the cool-as-ice apathy and he is just a terrified little pawn swimming in a shark tank.
He’s the worst mentor you could ask for, ticking down the seconds until his reality shatters. When it happens, it’s going to be glorious.
Probably on the northern half.
Kinetic,
deeply subjective
& highly aggressive
Swagger baked into a mundane boring-ass American existence, shot like a 1970s neo-noir exploitation picture. You can feel this story going somewhere you would not typically expect.
Hot, oppressive daytimes collide with dark, lonely nights.
The film is grounded by an ever-present original score rooted heavily in the Mellotron. Imagine Strawberry Fields Forever, but warped into something deeply anxious.
Collision of heavy grooves, psychedelic anxiety, and melancholic pop.
“It all culminates in an ending that feels shocking, explosive, and cathartic.”
Four compass points
The cosmic punishment of a mundane guy. Comedy as a byproduct of pathetic survival strategies failing.
Relentless, kinetic, and anxiety-inducing. Propulsive momentum where characters make desperate decisions.
An escalating, interconnected nightmare. Bizarre, desperate characters violently colliding with our protagonist.
1970s analog grit. Sun-bleached daylight and practical nightscapes build a lived-in world.
This is not about ambition.
Someone, sometime
It’s about endurance.