Best Suki: “Strange, isn’t it? Here we are in the darkest corner of this Earth and we’re afraid of our own kind.”

Best Keanu: “It costs a lot to be here. It cost you an arm and a leg.”

It’s taken me about a year and a half to write about The Bad Batch, because after a cursory viewing some time last year I was filled with such repulsion and disgust I never wanted to watch it again. I certainly didn’t envision what happened today, when, after deciding I was in the right mindset to give it another go — and having reached near the end of my list of Keanu films, almost out of other options — I not only enjoyed this film but decided it’s one of the most interesting things I’ve watched in a very, very long time.

Of course, this time I had a heads up about the subject matter. So it wasn’t a shock when Arlen, a prisoner of some sort, who’s less an inmate than a wandering soul among a banished class of “wrong-doers” relegated to a desert wasteland to fend for themselves, is kidnapped by a couple of folks who chain her up and cut off her right arm and leg. By that point, early in the film, I was already drawn in by the small but crucial details: Arlen, apparently alone with nothing but desert in every direction, taking the time to apply lipstick in the rearview mirror of an abandoned car. She’s carrying a backpack and looks less like a criminal than a teenager who’s been left by the side of the road after a joyride.

We don’t know what people have done to become part of “the bad batch.” We do learn it’s not what one might assume: that everyone here is a dangerous criminal, with some scary sociopathic tendencies. Maybe those folks are among the population of the wasteland’s one makeshift city, Comfort, but not everyone; Jason Momoa’s character, Miami Man, reveals he’s there because he is (or was, when he lived in the jurisdiction of the United States, which the film makes clear the wasteland is not) undocumented, having arrived on a boat from Cuba when he was 16. Miami Man is also a cannibal, but it’s implied — or I, as a viewer, assumed — that happened after he landed in this place where there’s no food to be had. Apparently, people had to eat, so they ate each other; at least a small community still does, and they are shown to be a group of body builders who are clearly stronger and more powerful than those they capture. (The cannibals are not only body builders — there are other members of their cohort, such as Miami Man’s companion and young child.)

The wasteland is a horrible place. It’s desolate and scary. It’s also sinister in opaque ways. Arlen keeps encountering signs to find The Dream, a mysterious goal that could be anything from a place to an idea or a God. Eventually, Miami Man’s young child in tow, she sees The Dream, a charismatic cult leader, in person, addressing an adoring crowd at a makeshift rave in the desert where hallucinogens are freely distributed. Arlen sees beauty in a drug-induced haze, the star scape, and loses track of the child. She also has the insight that “here we are in the darkest corner of this Earth and we’re afraid of our own kind.” Arlen enters the home of The Dream, who’s somehow perfectly played by Keanu Reeves, after she lands there in search of the child. The Dream’s home is a luxurious, drug-fueled lair, and Arlen has some choices to make.

The Bad Batch may be about many different things, and that’s part of its appeal. It’s a striking allegory, but can have a number of political or moral meanings. There’s no one clear theme. You have to make a choice, as a viewer, to decide it’s merely interesting; or that it’s an exploration of how society might arrange itself when existing social structures are eliminated: think of an apocalyptic Triangle of Sadness. It’s also about escapism, and the choice to sacrifice agency to achieve comfort. It’s about class, domination, and I would argue how we treat non-human animals and the earth. It’s complicated, compelling, and beautiful to watch.

The first time I watched The Bad Batch — and to be honest, after the initial dismemberment scene I fast-forwarded through a lot of it, so I can’t really say I saw it before today — I wondered how the hell the filmmakers got Jason Momoa and Keanu Reeves to sign on (and it turns out Jim Carrey is in this too, but he’s completely unrecognizable). Now I get it, because there’s real art here. Momoa and Reeves are well-suited to their respective roles and Suki Waterhouse is both vulnerable and formidable, holding down the piece. It’s well worth a watch, if you can stomach a little bit of… well, you know. Read the synopsis.

July 2023