Between such culture-defining videos as “The Boy Is Mine” by Brandy and Monica, Eminem and Rihanna’s “Love the Way You Lie”, Taylor Swift’s “Bad Blood”, and, arguably, the piste de résistance that is “Toxic” by Britney Spears, Joseph Kahn has solidified himself as a music video director that transcends mere lyrical inspiration.
As a film director, his efforts have been less consistent. For every maligned motorcycle actioner (Torque, which, in Kahn’s defense, was purposely made as a “piss take” on the Fast & Furious franchise), there was praise reaped on his satirical looks at the rising tensions in the world of rap battles (the Eminem produced Bodied). Waning in between is something like Ick, an occasionally smart, but ultimately incoherent horror/comedy that can only survive off its early 2000s mentality for so long before the charm starts to rust.
The “ick” of the title refers to the vine-like plant that sprouts across the middle-American town at the centre of Kahn’s film, something that has grown exponentially without explanation and is more bothersome than baleful. No one really seems to pay it any notice, but someone who should have kept their eyes peeled is high school star quarterback Hank (an initially digitally de-aged Brandon Routh), whose golden boy athlete status is cut short when an ick tendril snaps his leg as easily as a twig during his latest game.
There’s a certain meta-stroke of genius in casting someone like Routh in a role that’s all about a derailed megastar and the life they seemed to poised to inhabit. Some almost-twenty years ago, Routh’s status seemed destined for greatness off the back of being cast as Superman in the then-rebooted franchise (non) starter Superman Returns. That film didn’t perform as expected, and Routh, quite unfairly, paid the price by seeing his superstardom descend. His character here thought that high school football and marriage to a preppy, popular cheerleader (Mena Suvari) would set him up for success, but an injury and the superficiality of his girlfriend leaves him resigned to a life as the banal science teacher that can barely muster the attention of his students, let alone their respect.
Even though Kahn’s script, written in collaboration with Dan Koontz and Samuel Laskey, would like us to believe that Hank’s status as a science teacher is enough to distract us from the fact that he still possesses a strapping figure and, you know, looks like Brandon Routh, it’s difficult to ignore his presence, so when ick starts to hit the fan – the main horror hook of the film centres around that the ick develops a bloodlust and starts to maim the city in record numbers – Hank’s saviour routine is meant to be too lame for the droves of “too cool” teens.
This does mean that we are almost entirely behind the ick devouring the teen population at large – especially pretty boy douche incarnate, Dylan (Harrison Cone) – but it’s also why so much of Ick is devoted to the burgeoning relationship between Hank and one of his students, Grace (Malina Pauli Weissman), who seems a little more clued in that her peers. Thankfully said relationship isn’t remotely inappropriate – Hank believes he could be Grace’s father due to his past attachment to her mother, Suvari’s Traci – but everyone believes his intentions are foul, so there’s a cycle-rinse-repeat mentality adhered to regarding their back-and-forth.
Routh is a lot of the reason why Ick works as well as it does, as the ideas that Kahn peppers across the film’s brisk 92 minutes never seem entirely formed. The parallels between ick and COVID seem rampant, with the anti-vaxxers and conspiracy theorists easily set up to be skewered, which then makes way for slight commentary on woke culture and people’s own weaponisation of it, but none of these topics are elaborated on beyond a surface ribbing. And, certainly, a film like Ick doesn’t need to flex intelligence on such a level to garner interest, but when it suggests these thematics itself, it can’t help but feel all the more underwhelming in being unable to reach its potential.
The special effects of the film appear intentionally murky too as to further play into its new millennium temperament (I was reminded of Robert Rodriguez’s chaotic teen sci-fi/horror effort The Faculty on a few occasions), and whilst it adds a charm to it all, it doesn’t forgive the film having a certain incoherence. There’s no emotional throughline between each scene, and there’s a breathlessness to proceedings that almost feels as if it’s designed for the type of audience who have a limited attention span and would watch this as they scroll endlessly on their phone; all the more ironic when it seems as if Kahn has created Ick to speak to an older crowd that can appreciate its nostalgic intent.
There’s fun to be had with Ick most definitely, but knowing what Kahn is visually capable of, as well as the intelligence it flirts with suggesting a script that could’ve had more to say, this trivial chiller proves a missed opportunity.
TWO AND A HALF STARS (OUT OF FIVE)
Ick screened as part of this year’s Toronto International Film Festival, which ran between September 5th and 15th, 2024. For more information about the festival, head to the official site here.
