The world is ending and nobody cares in Ick, Joseph Kahn’s latest genre offering after 2017’s Bodied and 2011’s Detention. Despite only making four features in 20 years, Kahn is ubiquitous in pop culture from his background in directing music videos for major artists like Britney Spears and Taylor Swift. He also directed 2004’s Torque, a film received so disastrous even he pokes fun at it. That might explain why, after making one studio film, he’s directed all films independently––including Ick, a riotous take on the creature feature and a scathing satire of society’s apathetic attitude in the face of existential threats.
It takes almost no time to see that Ick is very much Kahn’s own creation, and runs rampant without a single studio note. A 2000s-set prologue establishes the backstory of Hank (Brandon Routh), a high school quarterback who was on top of the world until an injury killed his career, lost him his cheerleader girlfriend Staci (Mena Suvari), and turned him into an alcoholic who never left his small town of Eastbrook. Kahn films the opening at such a relentless and aggressive pace it could function as a litmus test for who can tolerate it. The camera whips, pans, and spins constantly; shots contain so many gags it’s impossible to catch them all in one viewing; and the period setting gives Kahn the opportunity to assault viewers with nostalgic millennial references. In the first five minutes alone, we get needle drops for “Swing Swing,” “The Reason,” and “Fall For You” without a moment to breathe between them. It’s not just indulging viewers in 2000s references––it’s drowning them in it.
The montage concludes in the present day: Hank’s cleaned-up his act and become a science teacher at his high school, with students who see him as nothing more than an old loser. But what about the Ick? From the beginning, every shot contains a strange, black, unmentioned material protruding from the ground and coming through walls in the background. Turns out this substance is some unknown parasite, the Ick, which has slowly invaded the world. But the Ick doesn’t do anything, so almost everyone ignores it (some people don’t even realize it’s been around for years). The only people who do care are Hank and his student Grace (Melina Weissman), who also happens to be Staci’s daughter. Their concerns turn out to be justified when the Ick suddenly becomes active one day, and in no time it starts infecting and consuming anyone that comes into contact with it.
The opening’s speedy pace, restless camera, and rapid editing don’t slow down once the film settles into monster-movie mode. In fact, things only ramp up once the Ick wreaks havoc on the town. It’s a bombardment that will make some people want to run screaming in the opposite direction of Ick. Whether or not one enjoys Kahn’s overactive style, it’s entirely his own, with plenty of loving references to influences like The Blob, The Faculty, and a structure that cribs from 1980s blockbusters. This is Kahn back in the same mode as Detention, where cultural references across the decades get blended, chugged down, and thrown back up with a wink and smile. Those willing to embrace that approach, to hold on for the ride rather than jump off the moment things get bumpy, will have a great time with Ick. In an age of hyper-awareness amid an onslaught of content, Kahn meets the moment and stretches it to its breaking point.
That approach makes Ick far from perfect, especially in how Kahn takes on the role of equal-opportunity offender. Like almost all monster movies, the Ick operates as an allegory, and here it represents people’s passivity and selfishness in times of crisis. When the government finally shows up to save the town, a spokesperson (MadTV star Debra Wilson, a hilarious cameo that further plays up millennial nostalgia) doesn’t get the response they expect. The townspeople balk at the idea of staying home to protect themselves from the Ick, with cries of socialism and false flags, and the idea of canceling the upcoming high-school prom is out of the question. It’s ridiculous, much like Kahn’s jabs at “woke culture” and virtue-signaling from the high school students. As uneven as Kahn’s jokes may be, they fly by so fast that it feels silly to nitpick what’s essentially a live-action cartoon. And the main allegory works as a nice subversion of tropes commonly associated with this kind of subgenre.
The biggest issue Ick faces is its ability to sustain momentum. In Detention, Kahn incorporated different genres to the point where it felt like several films were occurring at the same time, things never really settling into one mode. With Ick he stays on a single narrative track, excepting a subplot involving whether or not Hank might be Grace’s father. At a certain point the film can’t really go much further; the climactic attack sequence during prom doesn’t raise the stakes enough compared to the excellent attack sequence at a house party in the first act. But Ick earns plenty goodwill from its deliriously entertaining first half, and Kahn’s MO of using every single item in his bag of tricks means things never really run out of steam. Ick won’t have much wide appeal; it’s too chock-full of eccentricities to please everyone, and some viewers won’t like being a target of its satire. But this is why Kahn makes his films independently: to do exactly what he wants without worrying about sanding off the edges of his creations. Seeing him throw everything he can at the wall without a care in the world for risk is exciting on its own. Watching the moments where he pulls it off is downright exhilarating.
Ick premiered at the 2024 Toronto International Film Festival.
The post TIFF Review: Joseph Kahn’s Ick is a Riotous, Satirical Take on the Creature Feature first appeared on The Film Stage.
