Just yesterday, the first trailer for Girlfriend’s Day, a wry, comedic noir starring Bob Odenkirk, arrived on Netflix’s YouTube channel. From what can be gleaned from the trailer at least, the movie looks to be a short, uproarious pulp story of sorts, not unlike last year’s Frank & Lola or Burn Country. And now today, Netflix has released the trailer for Macon Blair‘s excessively titled I Don’t Feel at Home in This World Anymore, yet another of the streaming giant’s original films set to be released in 2017.
What’s most intriguing about the trailer for Blair’s film, which stars Melanie Lynskey as a woman determined to hunt down the thieves who took her grandmother’s silverware, is that the movie shares a kind of tonal timbre with Girlfriend’s Day, at least from the outset. Both films seem to pull stylistic and writing ideas from the vast pool that was the American independent scene of the 1990s – I noticed touches of Fincher, Soderbergh, Tarantino, and Jarmusch in both cases – but that’s not the only thing. Neither film feels weighed down by a feeling of overt importance and rather seem out to tell a good, enigmatic tale of mystery, murder, and chaotic coincidence. That might render I Don’t Feel At Home in This World Anymore anecdotal but for the time being, I’m willing to bet that Blair can fashion a compelling, coherent work even out of material that feels suspiciously familiar and thin.
Here’s the trailer for I Don’t Feet At Home in This World Anymore:
Here’s the official synopsis for I Don’t Feel At Home in This World Anymore:
Ruth, a depressed nursing assistant, returns from work to find dog shit on her lawn and her house burglarized, the thief having made off with her silverware and laptop. Losing faith in the police (and possibly humanity as a whole), Ruth starts her own investigation, joining forces with her erratic neighbor–and dog shit culprit–Tony. Upon locating the laptop, they trace it back to a consignment store, leading them to a gang of degenerate criminals and a dangerous, bizarre underworld where they’re way out of their depth.
Macon Blair’s outstanding debut feature has an exuberant storytelling style that’s full of personality, visual inventiveness, idiosyncratic characters, and wildly unpredictable turns. Its dark tone, deadpan humor, and increasingly blood-soaked foray into a twisted moral universe evoke the Coen brothers, but most captivating is the deeply unsettling journey it takes Ruth on, through human vulnerability and escalating violence. Once brought to tears by the notion of an infinite universe, her quest isn’t for her laptop, but for a way of processing a world that no longer makes sense to her.