The Outwaters

 Four young friends (Angela Basolis, Michelle May, Scott Schamell and Robbie Banfitch) go out on a camping trip to the Mojave desert to film some shots for a music video. Some weird stuff happens, get chased by something and they all end up dead; The footage is later retrieved and, presented as police evidence, ordered chronologically for our enjoyment.
 That premise may sound familiar, but The Outwaters has no pretentions of being popular entertainment. It's a highly ambitious, experimental, and extremely uncompromising film. This cuts both ways.

 The first fifty minutes of the movie are a sampling of the group's day to day life as shot by Robbie, the owner of the camera. It's a likeable bunch of people, and the footage is mostly organic - there's time gaps between the scenes, so they feel relatively authentic as home videos. In the lead up to the desert trip there's some goofing around, some partying, a couple heart to hearts- these people aren't bad company, but not a lot happens either, and as a result the movie drags badly.

 But on the first night in the Mojave proper  what sounds like a freak thunderstorm breaks out around them, and Robbie ends up catching some weird lights - which he thinks is ball lightning- on tape. The next day there's some low-key weirdness, and once night falls the storm returns and all hell breaks loose; it doesn't let up until the film ends.
 Unfortunately, all hell in this case means someone running in the dark, the camera swinging wildly, with a spotlight torch that can only illuminate a fist-sized chunk of scenery at a time. Our hero runs for a while, then stops, films something, then starts running again. Rinse and repeat. So many times.

This, but with shakycam.

 This is not a problem of plausibility, of Robbie lugging his camera to shoot everything he sees while he runs for his life and tries to work out what the hell is going on; I mean, it totally is, but that barely registers. The main problem here is that it's painful to watch - not because the horror or intensity or whatever, but because it's tedious and it looks like ass. For a while there's not even that much to see - Robbie will run for a minute in panic mode, stop to focus on some glistening puddle of gore, and then it's back to the races.

 Luckily things get a little more interesting from there - he starts seeing his blood-splattered friends, or flashes of light and a blood-red sea, or even a few monsters. If the pacing wasn't all shot to hell it might even be interesting. The film goes a couple of places I wouldn't have expected it to, and ends with some fairly extreme gore-shedding. But it's too little, too late.

 I love what this movie is trying to do, and I think it's got the right approach - cosmic horror works best when it's left unexplained. Its commitment to being as nightmarish as possible is also laudable.
 However, much like Skinamarink the result is nigh unwatchable - interesting on paper, but... well, boring in practice. It's the sort of thing that could only come from a highly personal point of view, undiluted by producer's notes or studio meddling: Robbie Banfitch stars, directs, edits, does the cinematography, special effects, sound design and even some of the songs. I'm interested in seeing where he takes that vision from here, but I'd be lying if I said I'm not worried he'll double down on everything that doesn't work here.