Review – The Outwaters (2023) Cinemax

The hype surrounding Robbie Banfitch’s film is frustrating, what happens when a film community is so hopelessly longing for something different that they literally latch on to ANYTHING that comes along that even scratches the surface of the experimental. “The Outwaters” is a lengthy arthouse experimental exercise that left me teetering somewhere between fugue-like boredom and the exhaustion that comes with listening to an overactive toddler talk about his imaginary pet giraffe for two hours.

The film introduces us to four twenty-somethings, who may or may not be part of a band, who decide to go to the desert to maybe, maybe, make a music video, so to speak? Yes, this is the start of the long road to not caring at all about EVERYTHING that happens during Outwaters’ absurdly long running time, which magically lasts longer than both Avatar films, a root canal in a budget mall dentist’s office, and a Catholic wedding ceremony. THAT, unfortunately, is the reality of The Outwaters, a film that becomes more of a cliquey “if you get it, you get it” fraternity rite than anything else. Unfortunately, this is ALSO where the novelty of the film wears off. With a cast of poorly written characters, we are immediately doomed to either forget them outright or wish them harm, the former being the more immediate answer. Oh, wait… I was talking about the plot, right? I digress.

So we meet our characters: a dreamy, free-spirited minstrel who wears flowy dresses and cries over and over again because she hears herself singing (I didn’t make that up), two brothers (?) who can be found at every pop-up art exhibit sandwiched between the shop that sells overpriced bourbon and charcuterie boards to every guest with a “clean fade” (and that’s all of them, people) and the coffee house, which offers live music on Saturdays until 9 p.m. They spend a lot of time staring into the distance and listening to music, I suspect while also suppressing the urge to cry. Oh, there’s a girl who no doubt has a job because she feels the need to stop her from saying, “Hey, what are you doing?” “… oh the usual… ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.” (which, by the way, suggests the next hour and a half). Then, uh (I think I’ll actually just make the rest up)…they, uh…figure out that the only way to get the one girl to stop crying is to go to all the “doors” in the desert and dance in front of the sun, because that’s how you get backlit… and uh, then it starts thundering and then everyone’s running around in the desert covered in blood with a penlight looking on stones.

There are some interesting visual elements in the outwaters initially, as well as some intriguing sound design, but both are lost in the way they are played ad nauseum over the course of the film, which feels like a Spirit of Halloween best hits album. We see the same kind of images leading up to a climax that might have been shocking 40 years ago, but now just seems trite and uninspired. It’s a film that feels more purposeful than random, and that’s a shame, because admitting that this was conceived and implemented according to some plan with a roadmap is worlds worse than the alternative. Don’t get me wrong, there are worse movies than The Outwaters… I just can’t think of any at the moment. NOT RECOMMENDED.