Review: MaXXXine

Director:  Ti West

Stars:  Mia Goth, Kevin Bacon, Elizabeth Debicki

When Ti West took Mia Goth to New Zealand to make X it was intended to be a one-off. West’s return to horror after dabbling with the western (the none-too-shabby In a Valley of Violence). Two things turned West’s ribald Texas porn star massacre into something bigger. One; COVID-19 gave them licence to stick around. Two; Goth did so much prep for her dual roles of Maxine and Pearl – inventing whole backstories – that it inspired the actor and director to collaborate on a shoestring prequel. The moneymen said yes and the two movies were shot more-or-less back-to-back.

X is a fun-enough, functional slasher with a strangely puritanical bent when it comes to its bawdy subject, sex. Pearl became a small critical sensation, however. A character piece indebted to the serials and musicals of Hollywood’s golden age that pushed Goth to new limits and garnered praise from the likes of Martin Scorsese. The temptation, therefore, to round this out to a trilogy must’ve seemed intuitive.

Except watching the third entry MaXXXine – which reconnects with Goth’s porn starlet as she touches down in Tinseltown to make her mark – one senses the haste and uncertainty over where to take this pastiche project next. Maxine herself is street tough and capable, thirsty for her goals and unashamed of the road she’s taken. The six years (narratively speaking) that have led her to where we reunite seem to have only hardened that unapologetic, bullish resolve. But it does box Goth in a little.

We’re reminded upfront that she’s the runaway daughter of a minister, and this information inelegantly hangs over the picture, perhaps because modern horror trends have taught us to remember those demons of the past. Setting this sleazy depiction of Hollywood against the backdrop of real-life serial killer The Night Stalker seemed like a controversial gambit in the months leading up to MaXXXine‘s release. It’s feature seems to serve two purposes. One, to add colour to West’s appealingly grotty evocation of the Sunset Strip (which looks remarkably close to the boulevards depicted in ’80s sex-worker-v-serial-killer trip Angel). And two, to act as a blatant red herring for the easily guessable mystery figure stalking Maxine as she prepares for her first ‘legitimate’ role.

MaXXXine starts to feel messy, it’s starlet’s head turning in too many directions, each undercooked as a result. The systematic murder of her friends by a black gloved killer seems to have little emotional effect on her outside of the initial shock. West’s hat tip to giallo in this regard feel half-hearted and distracted. Maxine’s experiences on the sprawling Hollywood backlots chatting with aspiring director Elisabeth Bender (Elizabeth Debicki) don’t really amount to much either, aside from suggesting a fragmented camaraderie of sisters doing it for themselves (neither seems trusting of the other, though).

Best of all is the appearance of Kevin Bacon as hard-nosed gumshoe John Labat. Bacon steals the show with a character written with the verve and grit of a Coen Brothers’ creation and Bacon rises to the occasion offering up more zeal than the rest of the movie combined. MaXXXine is always better when he’s in it. His tailing of our heroine may provide the movie its most openly enjoyable asides, but it too feels like West keeping the motor ticking over until his rather jumbled finale.

The success of X and Pearl – the biggest wins of West’s career – has clearly allowed him greater reach for this outing. The cast is stuffed with familiar faces. Overstuffed. Bobby Cannavale and Michelle Monaghan are shoehorned in as a pair of hardboiled LA cops. Pop singers Halsey and Moses Sumney are good in their respective roles, however marginalised. Lily Collins is here. But even further down the billing West crowbars in familiar character-actor faces, from veterans like Toby Huss and Larry Fassenden to up-and-coming talents like Yellowjackets‘ Sophie Thatcher. The problem is that – much like the endless cinema references that clutter MaXXXine – it all feels crammed together. Nobody has quite enough space to flex or do anything fleshed out. MaXXXine feels busy, distracted, ultimately incoherent. Five movies at once.

It’s been suggested that this might not be the last in this series. I’m conflicted over that. For one, it would be nice to see West sort this all out and end his unlikely franchise on a better note than this. But equally, Maxine isn’t enjoyable company and it seems past the time now for West to step away from all this parody and pastiche and make something that feels genuinely his again.

As his starlet rode a cable car up the Hollywood hills in climactic pursuit of a serial killer, all MaXXXine made me want to do is re-watch Brian De Palma’s superior Body Double.