Sean Baker in Red Rocket
Red Rocket is a delightful romp that relishes in the narcissism of straight male sexuality yet it doesn’t get carried away by the deceptive charms of its own lead.
Sean Baker in Red Rocket
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Aggressive sexuality and disingenuous narcissism abound in Sean Baker’s Red Rocket, premiered in the competition section at the Cannes Film Festival this week. Baker is back in his familiar territory, only this time around, he is investigating the self-absorbed skullduggery of an ex-porn star in the underbelly of southern American suburbia. Set in industrial Texas, with a tableau of visuals including smoke billowing out of chemical plants, hauntingly deserted water bodies and polluted wetlands, Baker almost romanticises Texas.
It is an enjoyable admixture that borrows from the lightheartedness of The Florida Project and the foreboding sense of destruction present in Tangerine. Woven together into the narrative are themes Baker has touched upon before – prescription drug abuse, crushing poverty, Trumpism, and visceral sexuality.
Simon Rex’s Mikey is a smooth-talking ex-porn star whose fortunes have all but effectively declined. A porn veteran of sorts with four AVN awards – Oscars of the porn, he helpfully explains – the sun has set on his empire. There is little detail forthcoming as to why he left Los Angeles but one day he takes a bus, emptyhanded in a singlet and jeans to Texas city, something he terms as, “a dead-end shithole town.” His estranged wife - also an ex-porn star, powerful performance by Bree Elrod - and addict mother-in-law take pity on him and take him on.
Mikey promises help in running the family and share rent but with no work experience in decades and unable to find proper employment, he resorts to selling weed, something still illegal in Texas in 2016. Things go smoothly until he stumbles upon Raylee, the porcelain-skinned newcomer Suzanna Son.
Red haired and almost cloyingly cute, Raylee aka Strawberry is a crafty teenager who works in a suburban donut place called Donut Hole, whose bright interiors are always bathed in sunshine, all yellow and Wes Anderson-ey. Instantly smitten, Mikey, who still has some tricks up his sleeves, takes no time to charm her. But there is no telling what Strawberry is hiding and what she is letting on – "Are you kidding, I’m not going to introduce you to my mother," she says to Mikey at one point – but he wants to make her his gateway escape back to LA because he sees porn star prospects in her.
In choosing Rex, Baker’s gamble has paid off handsomely because he has the right amount of obscurity and inscrutability required for the character, helping retain the film’s indie vibe. Mikey has a charismatic sleazeball quality to him, someone easy to talk to yet, never to be trusted. Baker puts him on a yellow bicycle too short for his height, and makes him pedal around Texas city suburbs in gorgeously shot scenes by cinematographer Drew Daniels.
Lest you mistake Mikey to be a likeable lad, he exposes himself with abrasive misogyny typical of any self-important man when he explains in juicy detail about his adult film industry career to his neighbour Lonnie (Ethan Darbone) who is enamoured by this once famous star.
Written by Baker and Chris Bergoch, the narrative provides rich canvas for social commentary that the film makes complete use of. News about Trump’s 2016 presidential campaign – presumably on FOX news – is a constant presence in the background in the living room of Mikey’s wife’s home. One is tempted to consider whether Mikey himself – an unapologetic opportunist who will throw just about anyone under the bus for his benefit – is an embodiment of Trumpian principles.
More such issues play out in the backdrop. When Mikey catches his wife and mother-in-law doing a line on the lawn, she replies, “Her doctor cut her pain medication in half, you douche!” Lonnie, who impersonates a war veteran complete with fake uniform, sells flags for a living in suburban malls, profiting from the sanctimonious patriotism constantly shoved down people’s throats in Texas. In one scene, when Mikey runs naked after being evicted from his wife’s home, the camera hovers above an American flag fluttering in the wind.
At a running time of over two hours, and as self-indulgent as it is of an ex-adult film star’s vanity, Red Rocket never feels stretched thin. Even as Mikey is ready to wash his hands off, after he is done saving money to leave town with Strawberry, Baker puts the women in alliance with one another. Though there is little redemption forthcoming for Mikey’s character, Baker’s script gives its women agency tipping the movie’s overwhelmingly straight white male tone and providing it with a semblance of gender equality.
Red Rocket is a delightful romp that relishes in the narcissism of straight male sexuality yet it doesn’t get carried away by the deceptive charms of its own lead. Despite it following a brash lead and presents unabashed sexual themes, it might be one of the charmingly understated films of this year yet.