Left For Dead Review

Victoria Maurette stars as Clem, a tougher than nails gun slinging former ranch hand on the trail of Blake, a man wanted for rape. She is hard, cold, ruthless and will not be swayed from her mission. But she is not alone. Also in pursuit is motley group of drug addled, all female cultists. They want Blake for another reason, however. He has left one of their number pregnant and in love and their aim is to either force him into marriage or, if he refuses, leave him dead. The complication? Blake has taken refuge in the town of Amnesty, a shattered shell of a place empty of all life but Mobius, a former preacher turned gunslinger who sold his soul to the devil in exchange for the chance to take vengeance on those who killed him and who now—consumed by his own pain and wrath—simply cuts down anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path. Will any of those who have entered Amnesty be able to find their way out?

Left For Dead is an unusual beast, fusing elements of survivalist horror with the psychedlic spaghetti western. It functions in a strange, heightened, dreamlike state; a sort of opium haze punctuated by sudden, shocking bursts of violence and pain. Pyun’s take on the western elements is familiar enough to draw you in, unusual enough to stay compelling, to keep you on your toes unsure of what exactly is going to come next.

Perhaps bolstering the film’s otherworldly feeling is the fact that it was shot entirely in Argentina using a dominantly Argentinean cast and crew. In many cases having a cast work in a second language proves a bad idea but given this film’s blend of Spanish and English, not to mention the Mexican setting, it is strangely effective here, Pyun using the unusual rhythms and patterns of speech to reinforce the disconnect between the world of his film and the everyday world around us. Something is different here, something is heightened, and we’re constantly reminded of that fact. One thing is certain, however: shooting in Argentina has given Pyun the ability to stretch his budget well beyond anything even remotely possible in America—filling the picture with stunning visuals and surprisingly effective effects work.

The true strengths of the picture, however, lie in its cast. Or, more accurately, in its leads. Andres Bagg as Mobius and Victoria Maurette as Clementine steal absolutely every scene they appear in. Maurette plays the classic anti-hero. She is closed off and fierce but her ferocity clearly masks some deeper wound and hidden agenda. Bagg, for his part, turns in what should be a truly star-making performance as the villainous, demonic Mobius. He is magnetic on screen, playing the character’s menace with an obvious, albeit understated, delight while also managing to convey scraps of what this man was before being consumed by tragedy and hatred.

The film is not flawless, of course, not that you should expect it to be at this stage. The dialogue is not always as smooth as it could be and some of the support players are not as strong as the lead players which leads to some of the secondary roles being played more as types than as fully realized people. These are points still easily corrected, however, and the strengths of the picture far outweigh the weaknesses. This is unusual, compelling stuff.