Faces of Death

1.5/5

I’ll confess I found this review a chore to write. Faces of Death has the makings of an interesting film, but this reimagining has soured even further since my initial tepid response.

I’ll start with the good. Barbie Ferreira and Dacre Montgomery are giving a rough script more than it deserves. Dacre is perfectly unhinged, clearly inspired by many famous serial killers seen on screen before him. As a social media serial killer, this is an interesting dynamic that he leans into 110%. Of course, we see glimpses of Hannibal Lecter and John Wayne Gacy—this is a terminally online psychopath taking inspiration from the most obvious of places. It’s a great modern homage to these enduring characters. And Barbie Ferreira eats up every scene, even if her character is startlingly underdeveloped. But there I go. It’s hard to stay with the good. Before this goes off the rails, I want to call out Gavin Brivik’s great retro-inspired synth score, which feels right out of a Cronenberg film. This score is flawless and deserves a better movie. It almost feels like it was made for a different version of this film—one with a more singular vision, and one that is less a hodgepodge of interesting questions met with uninteresting answers.

There is one scene that gave me hope the film was turning a corner and about to lock in. Ferreira and Montgomery are on each other’s tails, but Montgomery is one step ahead. In the film’s most tense scene, he breaks into her apartment and captures her. Montgomery gives the performance such physicality, perfectly captured in these long shots as he stalks his prey, complemented by Brivik’s masterful score—I was thrilled. This felt like the talent I knew was behind this film. Goldhaber’s last film, How to Blow Up a Pipeline, was so good it is the sole reason I was even excited for his Faces of Death take.

Unfortunately, none of the rest of the film manages to hit those highs. This film commits the cardinal sin of thriller and horror films: characters who behave so unrealistically that it completely removes the tension. All films require some suspension of disbelief, but Faces of Death demands far too much. The coincidences and the choices all feel laughable, reminding you over and over again that you are watching a movie and stopping you from getting pulled in. It diminishes the whole experience.

So what’s left when the characters behave like plot devices instead of people? I am not sure. This film has an interesting meta-premise that appears to lack any confidence in what it is attempting to do. This is never more apparent than when Dacre Montgomery is explicitly asked why he is remaking Faces of Death, and he launches into a monologue about the nature of remakes and nostalgia in the age of social media. It’s frankly offensive writing that only exists because the thesis of the film is muddled by its incongruous tone—it feels the need to explain everything to the audience, and wrongly indulges that impulse.

This is a shame, and I am only harsh because I know the team behind this film has a better version of it somewhere. I noticed Daniel Garber, editor of How to Blow Up a Pipeline and Cam, was not a collaborator on this film, and maybe it was lost in the edit. There are glimpses of something good here, and the message is timely. When Faces of Death was released decades ago, nobody could have imagined a world where we would walk around with devices that serve us actual real-life death and terror at a moment’s notice, with algorithms that make it frequently unavoidable to see tragedy and death almost daily. The film paints with broad strokes and leaves the complicated nature of our current reality off the table. It seems aware that there is a lens to be shined on the role social media companies play, and on the impact of social media on our personal and professional lives, but it is unwilling to really explore any of that. Which is shocking, considering Goldhaber’s last film, How to Blow Up a Pipeline, specifically works because he knew exactly how to shine a light on similar societal structures in the world of ecoterrorism.

If it’s not the editing, then the script itself is just weak. The multitude of confrontations the film builds to lacks all tension. The film also gives Ferreira a backstory that feels completely unnecessary; it is a perfect example of how little confidence the film has in its audience, dedicating time to revealing this very obvious trauma in a way that feels completely at odds with the film itself. And that’s a big issue here. This film purports to be critical of the violence we are so consumed by, but it also goes to great lengths to provide some very realistic gore.

I hope Goldhaber’s next film feels as confident as his previous ones. Faces of Death is a pass for me, especially in a world where Pascal Plante’s brilliant Red Rooms exists. If you are looking for a film that actually knows how to wrestle with our modern traumas and the moral ambiguity we so rarely confront, Red Rooms is where you should spend your time.