From the beginning of human history, men have always been oddly seduced by fire. Once a necessity of life, mostly obsoleted by the 19th-century harnessing of electricity, fire still holds a particular fascination within the male psyche, a connection to the deepest facets of traditional masculine identity, thanks to its simultaneously practical and destructive powers. According to the Journal of Forensic Psychiatry & Psychology, men are much more likely to be convicted of arson or diagnosed as pyromaniacs than women, further concretizing these linkages.

Fire and its resulting devastation hold consequential meaning in Vulcanizadora, but likely not in the manner any audience could expect or predict. The latest movie from Michigan-based auteur Joel Potrykus, Vulcanizadora initially operates as an off-kilter and increasingly uneasy buddy film before recasting into another form altogether, with its two distinctive sections united by ideas built around a duo of fallen men and their disempowerment in the face of the modern world.

The film follows Marty (frequent Potrykus collaborator Joshua Burge) and Derek (the director himself) as they venture into the verdant Michigan forests for a camping trip. The pair are allegedly best friends despite their incessant quarreling and incompatible personalities. The surly Marty sports neck tattoos and a mullet, recently released from jail for arson. Derek is a failed father who dons zip-off shorts and drinks Jägermeister from an old-timey canteen, constantly gabbing for fear of the thoughts that will come to him in moments of silence. In one of the film's earliest lines of dialogue, Derek remarks that he has left his house keys on the bus, and Marty responds, "Why do you care about your keys at all?" Something is not quite right here...

What seemingly began as a camping excursion for two longtime friends begins to bizarrely evolve into a pilgrimage to the shores of Lake Michigan, where Marty and Derek have planned to follow through with a terrifying pact that will alter their courses forever. Perfectly matching the trajectory of their futile existences, the accord goes terribly off the rails, of course, leaving them to settle their existential shortcomings any way they can.

In step with the rest of Potrykus' unparalleled filmography (Ape, Buzzard, Relaxer), Vulcanizadora functions as an edgy spin on the buddy genre, an idiosyncratic creation with a supporting soundtrack that ranges from operatic chanting to wailing metal within the same scene, perfectly attuned to the film as it constantly keeps you speculating. Shot by Adam J. Minnick on 16mm, some early moments capture the two friends in a lush natural respite evocative of Old Joy. In contrast, the movie’s crowning moment of tension evokes shocking gore in line with filmmakers like Tarantino or Cronenberg. This unique combination results in a hilariously grim work that slowly reveals itself to be a potent inspection of two men who have lost their hold on life.

The intricacies of the dialogue crafted in Potrykus' screenplay work powerfully to communicate the psychologies of the film's central characters. Although both men are initially rather unlikeable– acting like teenagers rather than grown men as they pointlessly beat trees with sticks– the film gradually delves into their backgrounds with methods that never feel expository, disclosing intriguing bits of information that help us understand both Derek and Marty's frames of thinking.

The director's role as Derek is showcased in Vulcanizadora's first section as the two make their way through the woods, where his obnoxious antics and faulty contraptions ultimately reveal a man with a failed marriage and a young child who wants nothing to do with him. In Derek's own words: "Everybody just fucking ripped me off." Inversely, Marty's impotence is at first veiled by his seeming confidence and authority over Derek. Marty appears determined to stick with his grand plan until that, too, goes haywire and leaves him scrambling for direction in life. Through the film's transition to its latter part, Marty's perceived invisibility and loneliness in the world bleed through to the relationships with those around him, particularly his elderly and indifferent father.

Just ahead of its most brutal juncture, Vulcanizadora features the type of intimate conversation that usually works as the core of any buddy film. Yet, through this moment when Derek and Marty finally have the chance to air their grievances far away from a world that has shunned them, their actions turn them inward on themselves, further severing both men from the lives they feel so wronged by. Through such a hopeless statement, the film gets as close as it can to its broken characters: middle-aged men pushed into corners they feel are wholly inescapable.

Through its viciously mirthful screenplay and committed performances, Vulcanizadora can work on a small scale to deliver something much bigger than the sum of its parts: a clever and profound dissection of the aging male psyche. As with the rest of his filmography, Potrykus channels his roots as a comedian and singular filmmaking style to create another movie fixated on isolated, marginalized figures, with his unusual fingerprints all over the final result. While Vulcanizadora may lack the grandeur of large-scale productions that keep mainstream audiences buying movie theater tickets, it is crystal clear after just one watch that most movie lovers will have never seen something like this.

4/5

2024 | 85 min| Color | English

'Vulcanizadora' had its world premiere at the 2024 Tribeca Film Festival, where Joshua Burge received a Special Jury Mention for Performance in a U.S. Feature. The film begins its theatrical release in the United States on Friday, May 2, courtesy of Oscilloscope Laboratories. Click here to find showtimes near you.

‘Vulcanizadora’ Review: A Wild, Weird-Out Buddy Film That Travels in Shocking Directions

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