Film: MaXXXine

A movie review of the third (and — hopefully — final) film in Ti West’s X/Pearl/MaXXXine series

MaXXXine

Director: Ti West

Motel Mojave / Access Entertainment / A24

When Ti West released X in 2022, it was part of a run of great new horror films for the cinema. The New Zealand-shot Lockdown project instantly spun over into a prequel film, Pearl. Mia Goth, the star of both films, absolutely carried Pearl — that film ending up stronger as a result; a unique, unsettling portrait. X is fun, and felt right at the time, but on revisitation it’s almost disconcertingly slight, and very uneven in its pacing.

But the stage was certainly set for new film, MaXXXine, shot back in America. Goth’s Maxine character, from X, is all grown up, and has moved on through the trauma she survived in that splatter-fest, to be thriving in 1980s LA as a porn-star, with a side-gig in the peep shows. When we meet her at the top of the film she’s just booked her first ‘straight’ role — because her confidence/delusion of being a star remains strong.

It’s a good start.

And then, almost instantly, the biscuit wheels fall off the gravy train ride. Quite what the fuck Ti West thinks he’s doing here is anyone’s guess — including his own. It’s been described as a comedy slasher, but it’s not funny, and it takes forever for there to be any kills. Instead it’s more like The Big Lebowski’s shaggy dog send up of Hollywood detective shenanigans — without the humour, energy, or payoff. In Kevin Bacon’s hacky gumshoe we have the only character (and acting presence) with an energy to match Goth’s original character work, But here, her Maxine Minx mostly is reduced to a few annoying sashays — and a couple of stiletto stomps, with some grimaced words to suggest grit. There’s an amazing monologue in the opening moments. And then that’s it, for what feels like hours.

At least 60 minutes into this slog of a film, MaXXXine forgets it was ever trying to be any sort of comedy (good!) and remembers it’s supposed to be some type of horror (barely?)

Its stylish romp of a trailer was misleadingly solid. The grit and seediness has been better handled a thousand times, in a range of movies. And mostly I just thought that West had somehow conflated Once Upon A Time in Hollywood and 8mm —then just figuring he best aim for the middle.

It undoes the previous work/s, and though Goth remains a wonderful screen presence, she ultimately had little to do here. The stacked cast around her (Lily Collins, Bobby Cannavale, Michelle Monaghan, Bacon, Elizabeth Debicki, um…Halsey…) reduced to cameo-like walk-ons. And Debicki is frustratingly aloof at best.

A strange energy emanates from this film. And when the big finale hits, it’s like fireworks with the gunpowder drained. A film on this subject should absolutely end with a bang, not a whimper. I was angered to watch it unfold in the way it did, feeling like so many missed opportunities. Even more tragic, West is now planning to expand beyond the trilogy. Somehow he plans to milk this for a fourth film. Fuck.