[Film Review] Undergods (2020)

Normally, when I review a new film, I tend to include (at or near the start) a brief summary of what the film’s story is about. That’s not so easy with writer-director Chino Moya’s Undergods: it doesn’t have one story, but three, all within a distinct-but-related wrapper. Each of these stories and the wrapper present a different perspective of Europe’s decline, but aren’t entirely as miserable as that might suggest.

I’ve got to say the format and genre aren’t straightforward either. Undergods is an anthology film, but not the sort with clear short story elements like Nightmare Cinema, nor the sort where a number of stories weave together like Short Cuts 1993 or Pulp Fiction 1994. They kind of sit inside each other (though not as tidily as those in Cloud Atlas 2012); in fact, I think the closest in format I can identify is A Christmas Horror Story 2015 in the way the stories contained do fit the overall wrapper. There is no arc here, mind you, or neat Ghost Stories-style resolution. The wrapper gives the film a beginning and an end, while the three stories each have beginnings and middles but very scant endings. As for the genre, science fiction might be the easiest label to apply because of the obvious dystopian outlook, but only just; there is humour, but not quite; there is mystery, but not enough tension or action to call it a thriller. I enjoyed it a great deal nonetheless.

Undergods opens with K (Johann Myers, the actor who impressed me most in The World We Knew 2020) and Z (Géza Röhrig) wandering in a large, grey truck between huge, grey dilapidated buildings. They’re scavenging for bodies, it seems, and it’s easy to wonder why… but not for long: after a few tantalising minutes, we get to meet some people living inside one of the tall buildings; or is it a different place altogether? Each segment has a different setting, and it’s intriguing to consider whether they are all the same locale at different stages of its collapse, different parts of the same city or country, or simply different “possible futures”.  What we know is that they’re certainly separate and to me this reflects the blinkers people tend to wear when times are bad. We keep to ourselves, don’t bother our neighbours, carefully keep the status quo within our boundaries in case the muck from outside spills in.

The first story centres on Ron (Michael Gould) and Ruth (Hayley Carmichael) who are quite miserably getting on with their middle-aged existence in the centre of a not-quite-finished tower block when neighbour Harry (Ned Dennehy, Brother Swan in Mandy) knocks and asks for refuge having locked himself out. He needles his way into their home, and squeezes into their relationship, their ineffective lives, with poor Ron feeling steadily more trapped until the whole situation erupts.

We then watch a story within a (bedtime) story, about a businessman’s corrupt ambition and the kidnapping of his daughter. Hans Hall (Eric Godon) is tempted by a proposal for collaboration from a visiting foreigner (Jan Bijvoet), but his underhand approach puts those around him at risk. The final segment is about another couple, Dominic (Adrian Rollins) and Rachel (Kate Dickie), and the – entirely understandable – strain put on their domestic life by the unexpected appearance of Rachel’s husband Sam (Sam Louwyck), assumed to have died over fifteen years earlier. Rachel isn’t as interested in Dominic’s chances for promotion as he would like, as she is completely focused on rehabilitating and caring for Sam.

Thus, Undergods looks at the impact of unexpected or unwelcome visitors; generally a pretty far-fetched impact or unlikely outcome. It demonstrates that the lives we may think are settled can be fragile, easily rocked off balance: is this concept a microcosm of what happened to Europe as a whole in Moya’s urban landscape? I’m not sure these stories had to be set in a near-future dystopia otherwise, but they are all close enough to being believable that they are certainly unsettling.

David Raedeker’s cinematography has been (rightly) praised for its atmospheric richness. In my opinion, there were two others in the team who contributed to the film’s production style just as much, if not more. Wojciech Golczewski’s electronic score kept me engaged even when the pace of the film lacked variance. Its retro energy may have seemed a little out of place to the film, but that’s OK: us viewers are (thankfully) observing from outside too. What impressed me most of all was the care and creativity which went into the sets, and so (unusually) I need to credit a set designer, Livija Mikic. Many of the interiors and exteriors alike were vast, Brazil-style, and managed to be both familiar and unusual at the same time. Other sets were cluttered, grimy, claustrophobic or crumbling; assembled with just the same sense of place, and somehow reinforcing the impression that little people in their little worlds are not conscious of the bigger picture.

Although at the start Undergods looked like yet another dystopian picture, it was presented in such an interesting style and with strangely engaging characters that it wasn’t “yet another” anything. There were some issues, mind you, primarily in the way none of the stories were entirely conclusive, or ended in an unsatisfactory way. They all cried out for explanations; I wonder if this might be the kind of film that spawns comic book spin-offs. I’d like to think there was some reason for the loose plotting, rather than Moya’s writing skill being underdeveloped. Either way, I’ll certainly be on the lookout for what he makes next.

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