When sizing up a film like Sasquatch Sunset, the latest work from co-directors David and Nathan Zellner — with the former taking on writing duties while the latter co-stars — it is important to not go for easy descriptors. Sure, this look at the life of four sasquatches roaming through the woods of the Pacific Northwest and California is bursting with bodily fluids, a range of grunting and plenty of silliness. However, as we accompany the group on their journey through the seasons, it's as though the Zellners are using these elements as a sly smokescreen for something more sentimental.
How much of this is earned and whether it undercuts itself are the bigger questions at the center of the film's shaggy heart. While there is a smorgasbord of dicking around that the film unashamedly takes part in, it's often just successful enough at reaching for something oddly profound amid all the poop jokes. More than just a provocation meant to gross you out, the movie gets increasingly poetically minded as it wanders on. For every ridiculous scene like one where the scruffy characters defecate on a road, there is one that hits home. Not everything rhymes as well as one would hope, and there are still a whole host of moments that are intended to elicit revulsion rather than reflection. Still, the film certainly commits to the bit.
The same can be said of the actors. Forget the biopics that try to convince you a big star has transformed by donning a bad wig or some sort of prosthetic, this extreme metamorphosis is now the bar by which all other movies must measure themselves. Zellner, Jesse Eisenberg, Riley Keough, and Christophe Zajac-Denek each give their all to roles in which viewers truly won't recognize them. Though none of the characters have names or dialogue beyond grunts, we still get a sense of the dynamics of the group. Zellner plays the abrasive alpha male who is prone to reckless behavior. Eisenberg is the more reserved and thoughtful male who struggles with counting, but keeps trying out of curiosity. Keough plays the lone female who must deal with the men while raising the youngest of the group (Zajac-Denek), just as another sasquatch may soon be on the way.
While many have said the film has no plot, this isn't entirely true. The group is not just trying to survive a year — it is clear they are searching for other surviving sasquatches. They will bang out an echoing message in unison in the hopes that their fellow creatures will hear them and possibly respond in kind. At the same time, we see signs of people encroaching on the forest. Though no human ever appears — a welcome demonstration of restraint to preserve the spell of nature — it still creates a growing sense that the tranquility of the woods is a deeply fragile one. The soundtrack and the moments where the camera lingers over the landscape capture a sense of awe at the stillness. Even when inevitably interrupted by moments of absurdity, the reserved sequences are the ones that give Sasquatch Sunset something greater than mere silliness. We see this too will not last forever. Life, even as a sasquatch, must always contend with loss.
While it would likely be overstating things to call the film some sort of rich parable about the environment and the critical importance of preserving it, such a read does feel supported by what emerges as a fittingly simple yet completely effective end. It closes on one last joke that juxtaposes what may be all that is left of the sasquatches with the outside world that is now steadily encroaching in on their home. In addition to this being the best gag of the bunch, it's also its most somber and self-reflective one. After spending an entire film with an embodiment of the mythological beings, it confronts us with our imagination of them. When the beliefs we hold create mighty big shoes for them to fill, what are a group of humble sasquatches to do? For the Zellners, the answer is piss, shit, f—, and maybe, just maybe, find a way to endure a bit longer.
Sasquatch Sunset
