Astral Plane Drifter Review: The Get-High Desert
Low-budget cult hybrid is a nostalgic reminder of what midnight movies can be
In 2015, when Sean Baker's Tangerine came out, I was no longer living in east Hollywood by Santa Monica Blvd., where most of the action was shot, but I recognized the vibe instantly. That mix of theater district and trans hooker central, bordering both urban and faux-suburban territories and loaded with donut shops, has a personality all its own. And Baker did what Baker does best – he opened up the space, said, “I wonder who lives/works here and what their lives are like?” and proceeded to tell some of those stories. Notoriously shot on an iPhone, it looked pretty as a painting, and genuinely made me nostalgic for my non-air-conditioned one-bedroom on Wilcox.
Astral Plane Drifter is not a movie quite at Sean Baker level, yet it arguably does the same kind of thing for my new neighborhood of Joshua Tree. Except there's a key difference – people who live out here genuinely believe it's visited by aliens, and home to inter-dimensional portals, and that may or may not be because many of them are on drugs. This is a movie that says, “Why not both?” Just because you're high and paranoid doesn't mean there aren't pathways to outer space hiding in the desert.
It's all the brainchild of Mike Caravella, who serves as writer, producer, and star, based on his short film. Scott Slone (Malibu Horror Story) is officially credited as director, but according to Caravella, a series of missed communications led to the latter finishing the film himself. Regardless of who did what, as movies go this as close to one man's vision as it gets, with Caravella front and center as the Drifter, a character who's like a magical, dazed cross between Cheech and Jeffrey Lebowski. In his mind, and possibly those of other strange characters, he's a Mystic Of the First Order, or...that's right...MOFO.
The Drifter doesn't speak much on camera, but he offers constant voice-over narration. Like any druggie friend you may have ever had, this makes him often long-winded and redundant, occasionally funny, and frequently slurring his words. (Caravella is a tongue cancer survivor, but having heard his normal speaking voice, I'm pretty sure he's deliberately slurring in character.) He's prone to make statements like, “I am the Holy Grail of metaphysical life energy,” and at least in his own mind, he's been empowered by an alien sasquatch named the Wise One.
The Drifter lives in a boxcar, possibly with his drug-lightweight sidekick who keeps him spiritual by constantly kicking him in the crotch. But there's a hitch in the good vibes, as a nearby volcano is filled with “extraterrestrial nosferatu.” Their existence sends the Drifter on a quest that gets his sidekick kidnapped, and involves an evil alien warlord named Galaxicon (John J. Jordan) imprisoned in the high desert and needing the Drifter's powers to release him.
The throwback vibes are strong with this movie, in many directions. On one hand, it feels like a midnight movie from the '90s, something like Motoroma or Six-String Samurai (which it is far better than, thankfully). On the other, it takes many genre cues from the '60s and '70s, parodying martial arts movies and the kinds of aliens who might appear on Star Trek or Irwin Allen shows (augmented with digital snake tongue flickers, if my eyes do not deceive me). This blends into another influence – drug movies, which it seems weird that nobody really makes any more. With weed quasi-legal, and psychedelics even decriminalized in a state or two, you'd think the market for movies to watch while high, about people who are also high, would be bigger. Yet as usual, it's up to the ultra-indies to lead.
There's a little Adult Swim minimalist-absurdist humor here too that does feel of the moment – an electric nipple clamp gag deliberately goes on far too long, past unfunny to get to funny again.
This is unapologetic camp, to be sure, yet smartly, the actors don't play it that way. Jordan's absurd villain, in a low-rent Ming the Merciless homemade knock-off suit, could easily have hammed it up, though instead he commits to playing convincing emotions in a character who is otherwise anything but. Caravella, who did so much of this movie himself and is still constantly hustling to get it seen, cannot possibly be as chill as the Drifter in real life. However, I believe this guy, even if I wouldn't believe half the stories he tells IRL. I can imagine my former drug-dealing roommate Greg going to Joshua Tree, tripping balls, and coming back with a story to tell not unlike the one onscreen, him thinking it's the coolest thing ever and me wondering what the point is and what really happened. The crucial difference cinema makes to such a story is you get to see it the way the druggie sees it.
The desert scenery out here is beautiful, yet with so many of the scenes solely focused on the Drifter walking across the sand, the pace can feel overly languid at times. Actors frequently use expressive body language and pantomime rather than dialogue, with voice-over filling in the gaps – this would appear to be a creative workaround for not being able to mic them up in wide exterior shots during windy desert winters, but makes for some fun facial mugging. Caravella's writing and (partial?) direction is actually more compelling in the flashbacks and side tangents that involve interiors, many of which were sets built in his garage. When the Drifter interacts on a human level with other weird characters in conversation, it gives Caravella the actor more to work with than scenes of just himself, while the production design by Alice Nicolini and cinematography of Joe Di Gennaro augment the area's naturally weird locations to make them genuinely otherworldly. A Morricone-inspired score roots the vibe in the Drifter's self-perception as a cosmic cowboy, as implied by the Clint Eastwood pun in the movie's title.
Pointedly existing out of time – Astral Plane Drifter is set “somewhere before yesterday, or after tomorrow” – this story is billed as part II of a trilogy. That's actually not just a Star Wars-y joke – it's based on the middle part of Caravella's story. Given that second-acts are usually the heaviest on plot, one must wonder how minimal episode I would potentially be by comparison, or if the nonlinear time conceit would rearrange typical story structure in such a way as to frontload the chronology.
We don't really live in a market that's open to midnight movies at the moment, give or take Tommy Wiseau's unending roadshow of The Room and/or Big Shark. There needs to be room for that vibe to return, and with more variety than just so-bad-it's-good. Astral Plane Drifter is camp, but it's decidedly not bad – it achieves exactly the zen state it intends, as best I can tell. Yes, some parts are a bit slow...but then again, I watched it sober. Maybe the Drifter can save late-night theaters as well as this dimension.
Astral Plane Drifter can next be seen March 29th, at the Geaux Shows Theater in Broken Arrow, OK, at 7:30 p.m. Follow the movie on Facebook for more info.
All images courtesy of Whaddayagot? Productions