And lastly, I’d lump Sean’s red trailer and the wilderness together into one element with two faces: a welcoming hideaway dropped down in a castaway sea of fallen leaves and timber. His relative Cortez ( Amari Cheatom) brings him groceries and supplies. Two separate entries in my notes read, “offensively dumb” and “soul-crushingly empty.” Potrykus’ odd fascination with an at times lax or a spiked paranoia feels more like the kind of story written down and then torn from an amateur’s loose-leaf notebook than one told by a filmmaker trying to be taken seriously as a storyteller. 2014’s Buzzard did nothing for me, and with The Alchemist Cookbook, he’s made a film which I genuinely loathed. Michigan native Joel Potrykus makes polarizing movies that continue to sway me towards pledging allegiance to the opposite cap of his cult loving audience.
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