In a film where no shot lasts beyond a handful of seconds, the world stops briefly to go over the origins of the black goo that gives “Ick” its title. But in the latest madness from director Joseph Kahn, no one in the small, suburban town of Eastbrook can be sure where it came from, or for how long exactly it’s been around. It’s actually this lack of interest in deeper introspection that the longtime pop culture provocateur takes on in what he dubbed a “soft rock horror” movie before its debut at the Toronto Film Festival. With one of cinema’s most malleable metaphors for societal anxieties since such films as “The Blob” and “The Stuff,” he certainly grabs attention.
Only Kahn — still best known for music videos for the likes of Britney Spears and Taylor Swift, amidst features such as “Torque,” “Detention” and “Bodied” — could make a film about free-floating malaise that feels so busy. But the propulsive narrative is clearly aimed at shaking the TikTok generation out of any frustrations over having it worse than their parents, and making adults wonder why they haven’t done more to question the status quo. The result is an irreverent clarion call, the urgency of which ensures it’s never dull.
The ick may largely reside underneath the surface when the film opens in the year 2000, yet we’re already immersed in something possibly insidious as the aching emo anthems of the era set the scene. Star quarterback Hank Wallace (Brandon Routh) has it all at Eastbrook High, but a knee injury during a game and a breakup with his girlfriend Staci (Mena Suvari) put him on the path to nowhere rather than playing college ball. Another bad break occurs when his father (Jeff Fahey) dies, ultimately leading him to become a janitor at the same school where his number should’ve been retired.
Hank isn’t entirely apathetic, eventually becoming a science teacher. But as the soundtrack signifies by blasting Dashboard Confessional and Hoobastank, he looks to be frozen in his glory days. Having Hank played by the star of “Superman Returns,” whose career didn’t soar to the expected heights after that 2006 breakthrough, adds extra resonance. However, Routh has become a really strong actor since donning the red cape. “Ick” works because how he anchors these frenzied proceedings, showing the muscle and quick wit to be a pillar of strength in the community when the ick spreads throughout town. He has a partner in Grace (Malina Weissman), who may or may not be his daughter. She’s been raised by Staci and Ted (Peter Wong), the real estate agent she ended up with after breaking up with Hank.
Grace’s friends and boyfriend Dylan (Harrison Cone) aren’t too bothered by the black goo that starts seeping out around them. The meaning of the ick is different to everyone, and its amorphous nature makes for a softer work from Kahn, who has a penchant for taking on sacred cows. Here, he has more abstract targets to hit: Hank may be battling nostalgia while Grace is concerned with apathy. Kahn is revealed to be a softie in other ways, too, as the genuinely touching father-(maybe) daughter relationship progresses. With the two not knowing what to call each other as they fight off the ick, they realize the power in what can’t be labeled.
“Torque” proved Kahn wasn’t cut out for making studio blockbusters, not because of his skill, but a sense of irony too strong for bombastic action flicks. Yet “Ick” suggests that someone should have given him a call about the “Venom” movies — the symbiote-driven set pieces here rank with the best of them, while the sheer amount of camera setups required for any given five minutes of the film lend it a rare kineticism. This full-frontal assault on the senses is bound to get on some viewers’ nerves, but Kahn has always strived to touch them in one way or another. In the complacent world of “Ick,” where any reaction can be considered a win, Kahn has unleashed a real monster.
