Starry Eyes | Review

Eyes Without a Place: Kolsch & Widmyer’s Horrors in Hollywood

Madonna’s famed verse asks the hypothetical question of Hollywood, “How could it hurt you when it looks so good?” Directors and screenwriters Kevin Kolsch and Dennis Widmyer’s sophomore effort Starry Eyes asserts that it’s an indeed an industry that can. They’ve obviously met a struggling actor or two in the City of Angels. Grafting a supernatural angle onto the ravaged glitter of fame and fortune in the film industry not unlike David Cronenberg’s familial black comedy Maps to the Stars, an eerie set-up speaks to the promise of the duo’s inventive idea. Unfortunately, it becomes a grisly, exploitative Faustian romp in the second half, reduced to cliché and depending on a descent into violent gore. Had the devil any real wish to maintain a stronghold in the reputation compromised film industry, hijacking needy actors seems a bit beneath his own skill. Turning audiences into brainwashed zombies willing to pay to see repetitive narratives that have either been made several times before or are watered down continuations of the same drivel seems a more lucrative route.

A struggling actress stuck working in a demeaning Los Angeles restaurant, Sarah (Alex Essoe), responds to an audition for a film called The Silver Screen. Her gaggle of similarly minded gal-pals mocks such a project, though secretly they’re obviously jealous of any kind of success others achieve. Attending the audition, Sarah is coolly received by the strange casting director (Maria Olsen) and her assistant (Marc Senter), who makes it obvious that Sarha’s performance was a disappointment. Escaping to the restroom, Sarah has a teary fury meltdown, witness by the casting director, who calls her excitedly back into the room so that Sarah can reenact her turmoil. Throwing herself into literal convulsions, Sarah scores a callback, which requires her to strip naked even though the role doesn’t call for nudity. At a second call-back, she meets the ripe producer (Louis Dezseran), who makes it clear that sexual favors will be required beforehand, which causes Sarah to flee. But after some time spent with the unsupportive group of frenemies and begging her boss back for her waitressing position causes Sarah to reconsider. In a world where she’s selling her soul anyway, why not sell it for something she actually wants to do?

The likening of the multitude of ‘actors’ milling around Los Angeles, desperately throwing themselves into the auditioning machine, to rats that generated the bubonic plague is one of several amusing instances that reveals the directors’ familiarity with the landscape, though the comparison is a bit harsh. Had they expanded their idea to include the powerful behind-the-scenes figures running studios and handling the business side of the industry, perhaps the ebullient glee that begins Starry Eyes wouldn’t eventually simmer into a tasteless broth. Still, Kolsch and Widmyer seem especially apt with their presentation of the group of wannabe actors surrounding Sarah, always one-upping each other or delivering thinly veiled putdowns that reveal their vapid connections are nothing more than non-committal attempts at remaining relevant to other nonchalant humans waiting to forget they ever had such un-famous friends in the first place.

It’s at first easy to empathize with Sarah, wasting away in her skin-tight work uniform at an establishment only one bust requirement removed from Hooters (managed by none other than Pat Healy, whose last presence in a fast food environment in Compliance automatically puts one on edge here). But she’s no better than the rest, a passive-aggressive tangle of quickly dissipating dignity and dreams. Had Starry Eyes maintained even this echo of The Devil and Daniel Webster rather than slip into slasher mode, perhaps this hellish allegory of the nightmarish possibilities of Hollywood would have seemed more pleasant. Discovering that actress Alex Essoe opted to actually vomit up the maggots we see in the film’s latter half in a bid to prove her commitment to ‘method’ actually outdoes her character’s uncomfortable audition process. Life, as they say, imitates art.

★★½/☆☆☆☆☆