This piece was written during the 2023 WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes. Without the labour of the writers and actors currently on strike, the movie being covered here wouldn't exist.
As the Screaming Twenties grinds on, it's only natural that the social-political discourses filter into films. Sometimes this can be done with style, class and enjoyment, such as 2020's Becky. Other times it is handled as though it was a screaming child whose carers thought the best thing to do to calm it was to set it on fire, and now they have to live with the consequences of their actions.
Guess which category Hunt Club fits into?
Opening with a grieving drunk Cassandra (Mena Suvari) being rescued from some drunken lowlifes by Tessa (Maya Stojan), the film then jumps to a café where the manly gravel that is Carter (Casper Van Dien) is getting ready for a big hunting trip with his sensitive son, Jackson (Will Peltz). After witnessing a tense altercation between Cassandra and Tessa, Carter invites Cassandra to join them for a weekend hunting retreat on an isolated island. Seemly ignoring the 20-foot flashing warning lights, she agrees. Once there, however, she discovers a cohort of “alpha males” and other losers led by Virgil (Micky Rourke). As Carter and his friends prepare to establish dominance through the hunt, they may have underestimated their prey.
The Hunt Club is a difficult film to watch. No, not because of the film's use of violence or its themes. Instead, it is a hollow and ultimately joyless film that goes through the motions of being a movie. While it bills itself as an action-thriller, and even an action-horror, the tone and texture of the film betray this. Too crisp and clean to be taken for gritty. T00 colourfully lit to fit within the Realism aesthetic. Too quick to show off its shocking twist about Carter's hunt. It lacks the oppressive atmosphere that would have made it a thriller, while it lacks the irony, playfulness and subversiveness to make it camp.
The convoluted plot has coopted the language around the confrontation of sexism and patriarchy and turns it into a glorified set dress. The acting is that hammy it was oinking a minute ago, with Saturday morning cartoon villain level of dialogue from Carter and friends. Meanwhile, Cassandra and Tessa trade supercilious, bad-ass “empowering” quips that would embarrass Joss Whedon.
It should have been better if it stuck with the source material in what is fundamentally a retelling of The Most Dangerous Game. Would that have saved it? Probably not, as the characters are as flat and wooden as pre-assembled decking. But it would have been a better film. And it's not as though it is a bad cast. They have proven their acting chops in other shows again and again. But maybe they realise that this film is an unfortunate hurdle between them and next month's mortgage payment. So they have decided to solider through like it's an unpleasant dentist visit.
In any other film with a degree of refinement, some moments would be a dark, though fine, parable on misogyny and racism in our world. It tries to be Becky and The Wrath of Becky but misses the point of those films and feels like a cheap gimmick ripped out of I Spit on Your Grave. What is the Hunt Club trying to say? The use of sexism and gender-based violence feels, at best, a cynical ploy to piggyback on real-world issues to either score points or put them outside the reach of legitimate criticism. Carter and his friends are the type of losers that Andrew Tate cons, who any other world would have had a failing podcast. And something is threatening about that. If they had been men from regular backgrounds, this would have reflected the violent, exploitative nature of everyday toxic masculinity and made the film unease to watch for the right reasons.
Instead, it's ratcheted up to 11. It becomes so ridiculous that any nuance becomes lost, and they end up as the world's most depressing Muppets.
Maybe Hunt Club's makers will say that they are helping and are simply trying to push the language of patriarchy into the public sphere. Though given the estimated 4.5-million-dollar budget, they might have made more of an impact if they spent the money on building a refugee or something.
The Hurt Club is also a visually dull and ugly film. A too-bright palate for the film's tone and jarring scene lighting make it look like a cheap student film. Colour lighting that doesn't have a light point or even an emotional reason. It's just there to try to add nothing to more nothing. The CGI effects are so poorly rendered it stands out so painfully. Shots that expose too much of the scene and remove any tension. It feels like an underfunded pilot episode for a series doomed to be cancelled before the third episode. The cinematography is all over the place, with nothing to add to the visual storytelling or tone of the film. It is polluted with unimaginative camera work, a tone-deaf colour plate and a lighting setup that makes no sense. It is not poorly filmed as much as it is lazily filmed.
For a movie that bills itself as an action movie, there is a minuscule amount of it here. It takes forever to get going and is over in no time. When it happens, the actors look like they are going through stage fighting rehearsals, trading blows at a low-tempo rhythm of punch, block, and jab. Maybe the earlier fights are just rehearsals for them to get ready for taking on the cartilage that is Micky Rourke.
There are better films out there that have used the thriller genre to capture the toxic masculine gaze. 2020's The Invisible Man and Alex Garland's Men spring to mind. Watch those. But give this one a miss. If you don't, it will only encourage them.
Hunt Club is available across UK digital streaming platforms from the 14th of August
