Christopher Rhoten
Redux Redux is the rare action flick—scratch that, rare flick—with a thoroughly original premise. By fusing the base pleasures of the revenge thriller with the complexities of the multiverse, a Pandora’s box of questions from the moral to the scientific swirl organically in a story that often punches above its weight. But while there are echoes of Looper, Haywire, and even Primer in the McManus brothers’ new action thriller, their film also repeats some of the genre’s familiar pitfalls—bringing an original story to the screen in a way that recalls worlds we have already explored.
The film opens phenomenally, with the ferocious Irene (Michaela McManus, the real-life sister of the directing duo) brutally sending someone into the afterlife by setting her prey aflame. A few seconds later, we cut to her grappling with an assailant mid-fight, before she quickly dispatches him as well by dropping a mattress on his face. We then follow Irene into a diner where, now get this, she immediately draws blood again. But there is a twist lurking behind these grisly killings, one that comes into focus as we realize that locations change, but her target’s face does not.
As the trailers have explored (perhaps unfortunately, since the best way to experience the film’s killer opening 20 minutes is to go in blind), Irene is eliminating the same man over and over across the multiverse. Armed with a low-fi, sci-fi time-traveling box that cleverly resembles a coffin, Irene relishes reexperiencing the act of vengeance as she dips in and out of realities, killing the serial killer who took the life of her daughter. In a genuinely unsettling interaction with Jim Cumming’s underused Jonathan (a man Irene takes the time to romance in each of these iterations), we discover she cannot find a version in which her child is still alive. With each new world comes a new opportunity to wallow in her pain, swallowing Irene up in a vortex of vengeance.
This infinite revenge glitch is incredibly ripe for some high-concept, low-budget drama, and it is to the credit of directors Kevin and Matthew McManus (The Block Island Sound) that they attempt to ground their sci-fi spiral of spite in human relationships, or as a character later suggests, “Bourne Identity shit.” The vociferous Mia (Stella Marcus), another would-be victim of the serial killer that Irene rescues in a parallel universe, throws a wrench into the time traveler’s plans by stealing her gun and forcing Irene to stay in her world a bit longer than she would like. Redux Redux has received a lot of praise for being subversive, and it is true that the film takes a big swing by spending so much time with Mia. The X-23 to Irene’s Logan, Mia’s introduction gives the film a sense of humor and brings the tone closer to an edgier Paper Moon than an Oldboy. I recently spoke with both Michaela and Stella about how the premise of Redux Redux is a vehicle for family drama, an exciting opportunity for both ladies.
While that is true, it is surprising that the McManus brothers do little to give the following proceedings much nuance or momentum, largely due to the repetitive script. There are a half-dozen pit stops at diners, hotels, bars, and convenience stores, scenes that only undermine intent by highlighting the threadbare characterization. The idea of exploring the multiverse through everyday locations is a good one, emphasizing how infinite realities can be equally tedious, or in Irene’s case, equally frustrating. But much like the film’s science fiction elements, there is little curiosity about Irene or Mia beyond their surface-level roles as surrogate daughter and surrogate mother, despite two committed performances that beg for more.
To its credit, the film draws an interesting but fleeting parallel between Irene’s obsessive use of time travel and substance abuse (it is a nice touch that the act of using the device is incredibly painful), and her actions do influence Mia in a way that makes the title of Redux Redux much more telling than it might seem. The problem is that the stiff dialogue and predictable beats slightly dull the impact of whatever smarts have been applied to the story at large; lines such as “I lost whatever humanity I had left” and “He’s taken everything from me” can only be spoken so many times before they elicit nothing. Similarly, Mia’s gradual reveal as a straightforward, foul-mouthed teenage foil is a trope you will either love or hate, as entire sequences are dedicated to her screwing up the lives of strangers within her orbit.
And while the filmmakers do a terrific job of masking any budgetary constraints, there is also a disappointing lack of atmosphere and style, usually the hallmarks of indie actioners. Paul Koch’s increasingly bombastic score feels out of place in a movie with such a narrow sense of scope and scale, and Michaela’s physical, gritty performance, worthy of a Blue Ruin, is somewhat let down in a movie that front-loads both the eye-popping combat and juicier ethical dilemmas. That is not to say Redux Redux is a poorly directed film; the McManus brothers tell their story with clarity and, crucially, brevity. But through their overreliance on tropes and cliches (especially in the third act), there is a nagging feeling that the brothers have missed an opportunity to rise further above the mediocre revenge films to which theirs is being compared. Frankly, simply acknowledging that revenge is bad is no longer enough. This is a B-movie through and through—one that takes baby steps towards being truly subversive, but a genre film all the same.
Of course, such films do not need to clear Logan to deliver the goods, especially one as conceptually distinctive as this. Despite the flaws, Redux Redux is still telling an interesting story, and one that serves as a nice contrast to the multiversal craze pervading (or afflicting) theaters today. There is no time police chasing Irene, only her own conscience—and the consequences of the parallel universe carnage are not ornamental but personal. The film understands that while it feels good to indulge in the nihilistic misery that often accompanies grief, it is a betrayal to the person we lost, as well as an act that potentially leads others down the same exact path. It is also refreshing to see an alternate-universe story where seedy motels are traded in for even seedier ones amid the world-hopping, a reminder that money, locations, or visual effects are not what hold filmmakers back from elevating genre flicks.
Those looking for a crafty, more uniquely conceived revenge movie will have a decent time, and the McManus brothers are a duo worth keeping a close eye on moving forward. Another film might explore the ideas raised here more thoroughly, but in our universe, Redux Redux remains a potentially great movie trapped in a good one.
