Sasquatch Sunset

Multiple walkouts at Sundance suggest that the film is too languorous for some tastes and too gross for others. Hang in there and it’s rewardingly novel, touchingly human and agreeably nutty.

How audacious, beguiling and disturbing is this crazy, absurdist fantasy? Let me count the ways.

Farcical gross-out notwithstanding, the film has a poignant, lyrical spirit underlined by its soundtrack of mock-folksy flute and guitar. It is majestically shot by Mike Gioulakis, capturing the luminous vistas you might associate with Terrence Malick.

Sasquatch Sunset is a gloriously vulgar film about made-up monsters from children’s stories — but it is also a terribly melancholy adult story about the violence of progress. What a remarkable, unique, sad little cult oddity it is.

Consistently weird and frequently wonderful, “Sasquatch Sunset” uses its high-concept premise to consider a host of themes: collective living, coexistence with nature, longing stirred by seclusion.

It's brilliantly filmed, constantly maintains our interest, boasts first-rate prosthetics, and is completely distinct from whatever else is found at the box office. [Full review in Spanish]

Watching Sasquatch Sunset is an ordeal, one that select audiences may want to volunteer for but others will be perfectly happy to steer clear of without giving it a shot.

We’ve seen sasquatch horror films and sasquatch family films, but we’ve never seen a sasquatch film like this. Sasquatch Sunset’s portrayal is unwavering and its depictions are shocking. Every choice is bold and effective.

If you’ve often felt that American cinema is sorely lacking in primates lactating and masturbating, well, then, have I got a movie for you this weekend, boy-0.

The film has a wonderfully deadpan sense of humour, even as the story turns dark and emotional. And the result is both involving and memorable.