Shot over the course of four years, on 16mm, and entirely within his apartment, Jimmy and Stiggs is the latest neon-lit splatter-fest from writer/director (and now star) Joe Begos, who has carved out a niche career making idiosyncratic genre films in high style. He’s done vampires, siege action, and even a bloodthirsty robot Santa, and now he’s trying his hand at an alien invasion flick. I, for one, sincerely hope this psychotic parade of goopy madness manages to turn a buck, because one thing is for damn sure: Begos is not getting his security deposit back.
This is exactly the type of anarchic, metal-as-fuck filmmaking that dominated the exploitation houses of yesteryear, and it pains me greatly that both times I watched it I did so alone and in the comfort of my own home. Don’t get me wrong, even in this less than ideal circumstance, Jimmy and Stiggs kicks serious amounts of ass, but if ever a chance arises to see this on the big screen, preferably late at night and surrounded by horror junkies, I’m taking it, because this film is a raucous party (Mahoning Drive-In, I’m looking to you to lead the parade).
The film opens with a Gaspar Noe-esque prologue, from the direct POV of our hero, Jimmy (Joe Begos). He’s hanging out at his colorful, smoke-filled apartment getting drunk, getting high, and blowing lines while awaiting the arrival of a young woman for a night of getting drunk, getting high, and blowing lines. The term “arrival” applies, because before his guest makes an appearance, some unplanned visitors make an appearance…
Jimmy awakens from a sudden blackout with an aching jaw and a sense of lost time — and a bevy of angry messages from his lady friend. What happened? It’s up to Jimmy, and his recently sober friend Stiggs (Matt Mercer) to figure it out, and to kill as many slime-filled aliens as humanly possible, all while maintaining a high enough blood-alcohol level to prove that they themselves are not aliens (alcohol kills aliens, per a talking head on an Alien Autopsy: Fact or Fiction-esque riff that our titular characters grew up watching).
It would be easy to dismiss what follows as a genre exercise (which, to be fully honest, is no reason to dismiss anything), but what became clear on a second viewing is how personal the film seems. Both Jimmy and Stiggs are men with issues. The former is clearly an addict, and the backstory makes it clear that he’s not the most present or generous friend. The latter has at least been trying to better himself, largely through avoiding bad influences in his life (namely, Jimmy). Unfortunately (or perhaps quite fortunately) for the duo, the alien attack proves to be a much more pressing concern than any of their interpersonal shit, yet it’s clear that none of their demons would have ever been exorcised had it not been for the visitors from outer space.
The friends’ interactions capitalize on Begos’ penchant for foul-mouthed characters. There might be a record number of “fucks” across the film’s meager runtime. And while many would chalk that up to a film being underwritten, I would counter by saying that I know these guys. Not these guys specifically, but there have been many Jimmys and Stiggses in my life, and for all the insanity on display, this is an accurate representation of how they’d interact and behave in such a situation. I can’t speak to what Begos’ views on sobriety are, but as a recently sober man myself (just passed a year!) I found Stiggs’ journey to he relatable. Would I give in and imbibe in order to prove I’m not an alien? Should I even be in a situation where a friend is forcing me to drink at knifepoint? Is this the sort of thing that can be avoided with friend like Jimmy?
Surprising no one, the shots flow, the lines blow, and the neon aliens glow, and the characters’ mentalities begin to match the inherent insanity of the situation they find themselves in.
As for the filmmaking, it’s remarkable what Begos has accomplished in such a small space. Blacklit, smoke filled, and laced with neon (I’ve decided to stop using “neon-soaked/drenched” ever since we all culturally agreed that neon light is liquid and can only be referred to in these terms), the apartment is already a whole vibe before the aliens show up, and once they do, and they start spurting their thick alien blood on every surface, the vibe gets that much more flowy-glowy. The creatures themselves are a basic design, but it works within the established world. They may just be handmade dummies that the actors are essentially self-puppeteering, but it never hits a false note. To watch Jimmy and Stiggs engage in fisticuffs with the aliens hearkens back to those WWF wrestling pillows that we all had back in the day — and yet it somehow appears as if the aliens are indeed controlling their own bodies. They’re even pretty scary at points (although not as scary as the bursts of smoke which go off at random intervals during the film’s funhouse final act).
Viewer mileage may vary in terms of Begos’ abrasive style, and I get the sense that if you’re not the type to be wowed by DIY craft, some of its charms may be lost in translation. But I also get the sense that if you’re the type to press play on this one, or to attend a screening, then you’ll likely find something to enjoy here. In a world where the mega-corporations are sidling up to fascists and determining what art we do and don’t have access to, it’s films like Jimmy and Stiggs that give me hope; films with a “fuck you, I’ll do it myself” attitude, and a final product sick enough to back it up.
Directed by Joe Begos
Written by Joe Begos
Starring Joe Begos, Matt Mercer, Riley Dandy, Jason Eisener
Not Rated, 79 minutes
