America and its cinema have had a relationship with lost young men. In the New American Cinema movement of the 1970s, these figures were tragic, but generally not sympathetic, in the care of filmmakers like Martin Scorsese or Paul Schrader. Men adrift mostly took a backseat in the cinema of the regressive 1980s. When they did appear, they were figures held out for ridicule with a ‘Get a job, bub’ simplicity. Marty McFly prevents George McFly from being a hapless piece of shit by telling him to not be a hapless piece of shit and getting him to punch a guy.
In the 1990s, though, the directionless, hapless, young man became the star of American cinema from the studio blockbuster to the art house. Richard Linklater was heralded as a new, vital voice in cinema with SLACKER. Saturday Night Live churned out a veritable assembly line of films about young men who were adrift with WAYNE’S WORLD, BILLY MADISON, and TOMMY BOY all from stars of the show. Kevin Smith became an arthouse crossover hit with CLERKS. The stagnant, drifting young men of the ’90s and the years after were interesting in that they grew up in an American media culture that coddled and celebrated them. By the ’00s, filmmakers emerged whose specialty was manifest destiny for the manchild shithead. Todd Phillips’ OLD SCHOOL and THE HANGOVER featured men adrift, now in their 30s, who believe that the world owes them everything and nothing can stop them.
Serving as a refreshing break from the celebratory trajectory of these movies comes the work of Joel Potrykus who returns them to their New American Cinema roots. Starting with APE, Potrykus has been interested in bad men who grew up on a diet of films about bad men. In an increasingly lonely and insular society, does a selfish young man watching a movie about a young man see an opportunity for self-reflection, or does he see validation of his perspective and values? Potrykus’ 2014 film, BUZZARD, was a revelation. It starred Joshua Burge as Marty Jackitansky, one of the most vile examples of privilege and petulant childlike behavior committed to film.
When we met Marty in BUZZARD, it’s a tight close-up like that of the mortician at the opening of THE GODFATHER, and its angle doesn’t break for the course of a conversation where Marty closes a checking account at First Federal in order… open an account at First Federal to take advantage of the offer of $50 for opening a new account. He’s been away from his own desk at First Federal for three hours. He delights in the time theft he’s performing from his employer. He doesn’t care that he is wasting the time of the bank employee he is dealing with. Throughout the whole scene, Marty is nothing but snarling presumption. He believes he is owed by the universe. Marty subsists on a diet of Hot Pockets and Mountain Dew, paid for with fraudulently endorsed checks. He spends much of that film’s second act hiding his coworker Derek’s basement. The vibe of that middle part of the film is middle-school sleepover caught in amber. These are men in appearance only. In every other way, they’re children occupied with the distractions of childhood. Marty fills his days with work on a Nintendo Power Glove that he’s attaching knives to the fingers of. BUZZARD reinforces its recursive media obsessions not just with Marty’s Freddy Krueger glove, but with shots that are intentional recreations of A CLOCKWORK ORANGE, TAXI DRIVER, and MAUVAIS SANG. The story of today’s listless America is told through remixes and recontextualizing previous films on the topic.
So VULCANIZADORA being Potrykus’ first sequel is an exciting thing. He’s reached a place in his career where the toxic and lazy men he remixes and recontextualizes are his own. With VULCANIZADORA, he aims to answer a question that Kevin Smith has tried to approach with varying success in CLERKS II, JAY AND SILENT BOB REBOOT, and CLERKS III. What happens when the directionless young man reaches middle age?
Smith’s approach to this question has always been romantic and optimistic. He assumes that there will be some inciting incident that will cause his listless men to emerge from their selfish fogs and stop assuming the world will be served to them. Theirs is a hero’s journey. After an unplanned pregnancy or heart attack, they’ll be all right. Potrykus is unburdened by this romanticism.
One of the recurring visual motifs of his work is the untreated septic wound. By making VULCANIZADORA a sequel to BUZZARD, he has a chance to investigate when a whole life turns septic. We catch up with Marty Jackitansky and his friend Derek pushing 40. They’ve just disembarked from a bus and are hiking through the Michigan woods. Their dialogue alternates between silly and ominous. Derek adopts a weird squat and says he is “samurai walking,” but Marty lashes out at Derek for being frustrated that he left his keys on the bus. Like his recent short film THE THING FROM THE FACTORY BY THE FIELD, Potrykus shows an invigorated interest in transcendence, nature and the conflict between the self and the desire to be part of a community, even if it’s small. By fitting his listless American males into these beautiful tableaus, he raises questions. Is their very existence part of a natural order? Is our increased urbanization and isolated culture the root cause for the existence of men like Marty? Nature in American culture has been long tied to integrity, self-awareness, and intentional action and civil disobedience. It’s hard to picture what Henry David Thoreau would make of Marty and Derek hoofing through the Michigan woods, looking for a stack of porno mags hidden beneath rotting leaves.
As they trudge through the woods, stopping occasionally to make camp, we come to understand their purpose and their motivation. Marty set fire to a tire dealership, and the fire grew out of control, and he’s been charged with arson. He’s certain to serve real jail time. Derek is still caught at First Federal, but he now has child that he can’t regularly see. Theoretically, they’re out in the woods as part of a suicide pact. Moments betray the disparity between Marty and Derek’s commitment to the pact. While Marty just wants to trudge to the shore of Lake Michigan and strap a godawful SAW trap to his head with an explosive attached, Derek is content to drink, play, and be silly. He wanted to come to the woods to let his failed real-world obligations fade away. He ties ribbons to tree branches to help them find their way back until Marty bullies him into stopping.
The second half of the film follows Marty on a sickening journey of self-awareness. Like Kevin Smith’s heroes, he has encountered an inciting incident, but the difference in the way that the character approaches it is a stark contrast. Where Kevin Smith’s characters decide for themselves “Here begins my relationship with consequences,” Marty comes to the sickening realization that his actions have always had consequences. This character mindset allows for Potrykus to explore themes of guilt and concealment. The back half feels liberally informed by The Tell-Tale Heart and The Black Cat as Burge paints a heart-wrenching portrait of guilt and futility. I definitely spent a fair amount of time in the back half thinking about how when we met this character in BUZZARD, he was pleased beyond measure at the world not noticing him. Whether it was three hour lunches or sneaking into hotel rooms, his unimportance and invisibility were a tool in his kit. Here’s it’s a weight around his neck. He just wants someone to know he’s guilty. He just wants someone to know what he’s done.
Potrykus’s touch is light, and in so much of this, he lets Joshua Burge take the wheel. That works because there are few actors working as gifted as Burge. It’s fitting that Potrykus’s work feels such kinship with New American Cinema, because there probably isn’t an actor working now who more clearly evokes fear, loneliness, and rage in the style of Pacino than Joshua Burge. In every frame, he is a rattlesnake that needs a hug.
VULCANIZADORA is one of 2024’s best, and in a year where filmgoers are being asked to indulge another Todd Phillips JOKER movie, which is the ultimate veneration of dangerous, listless American men. VULCANIZADORA is the antidote we need.
them, not even once. When he’s not disappointing his cats he’s watching and writing about film.
His interests run toward naturalism, SOV and forgotten thrillers. Against his better judgment he
has hosted a podcast, Impossible Coin, for six years.
Tags: Adam J. Minnick, Black Comedy, Brian Cartwright, Factory 25, Joel Potrykus, Joshua Burge, Michigan, The Woods, Thriller
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