⭐⭐⭐⭐
Rating: 3.5 out of 5.Walking into Erupcja, I was handed a yellow note talking about what I was about to get into, written by none other than the film’s lead, Charli xcx.
“It was 4am and I stumbled into Clandestino (lol), Jeremy invited me to sit with him and his group of friends. That’s when everything began. Pete and I hit it off immediately.”

My first exposure of Pete Ohs was last year on the real-time New York day dramedy Or Something, where he served as editor. A scroll through his work revealed a laundry list of cinematography and editing credits, music videos, and a string of narrative features beginning with 2021’s Youngstown. Erupcja is his most intriguing project yet—it feels both shaky and boundary-breaking, made by artists who know exactly what they’re doing. Charli continued to explain Ohs’ process:
“…all of the actors in the morning collaboratively write scenes for the day, he works chronologically, and no one really knows the ending of the film until the process is complete, and even then it’s sort of unclear.”
While I didn’t know about the unorthodox film practice while watching Erupcja, I’m happy to report that it’s a charming experience. It retains the spontaneity and expressiveness reminiscent of a student film, laced with influences that echo movies like Midnight in Paris, along with the stylistic flourishes that feel akin to Gaspar Noé’s work. It’s a fully immersive travel movie, and the central relationship feels effeminate and contemporary like an Anna Dorn novel. Despite the thin, 70-minute runtime, the ambiguous nature of the relationships in the film leave you with much to consider.
The story follows Bethany (xcx) and her overly complimentary boyfriend Rob (Will Madden) enjoying a romantic vacation in Warsaw when a volcanic eruption derails everything. The disaster leads Bethany to reunite with her old friend, Nel, a local florist. On the surface, one could look at the relationships in Erupcja as familiar tropes tried and recycled through film: a secret lover coming ashore, testing the “stable” relationship at a pivotal moment, but that would be selling the film short.
The connection between Bethany and Nel does consume the film, though it isn’t defined as anything erotic or traditionally romantic. Instead, it exists in the modern subtext where sexual orientation is an afterthought, and true connections are often formed by coincidence and timing more than effort. Ohs portrays this dynamic most clearly in the contrast between Bethany’s relationship with Rob and Nel.Rob showers Bethany in affirmations and has meticulously planned their vacation down to the last detail, but that bores when compared to the impulsive, drop-everything intensity Nel brings out of Bethany. “Sometimes nice is boring,” Bethany says, prompting a skeptical smirk from Nel. Though chaos unfolds around them, their bond never feels reckless, but rather grounded in a profound mutual understanding.
Bethany and Nel are opposites. Nel, laser-focused as a flower shop owner, is more practical, authentic, and secure in her queer identity, while Bethany floats from one conventional, safe entanglement to another. The ongoing narration (delivered in polish), and the subtle nuances that Charli brings to her performance, elevates Bethany into a more interesting and unpredictable character—saving her from being just another jaded 30-something desperate for change.
I could have made this entire review about Charli, whose descent into the film world has been remarkably active this year. However, Erupcja is special, since it’s her first time in a completely fictional leading role. Now having seen what she can bring to the table, I see Charli as an actress capable of transforming herself into a self-aware and relatable every-girl. Bethany feels like a mumblecore archetype, but because it’s Charli, she has a unique edge. With her clear foray into the alt-world, her bare-faced appearance is both rare and engaging. I could easily envision her headline both a tentpole fantasy, or scrappy indie.
Although it’s clearly Charli’s vehicle, the rest of the cast also delivers likable performances. Will Madden and playwright Jeremy O. Harris are Pete Ohs’ regulars, and in Erupcja they embody the loose, collaborative spirit that defines the project. Their characters are simple and feel drawn from their personalities off-screen. Polish actress Lena Góra effortlessly portrays someone enigmatic and a source of inspiration to Bethany. While the movie doesn’t have the runtime to delve deeper into the complexities between the two, the rich subtext of what binds these characters together continues to propel the project upward.
The presentation of Erupcja may be my favourite thing about it. The setting of Poland is fundamental to the film—its geography and weather have significant roles in the film. Bethany feels both enamoured and haunted by the city, while the audience gets a front row view of the museums, nightlife, and public transit. The movie seamlessly shifts between documentary footage of erupting volcanoes and permit-free, handheld footage of Śródmieście. It looks great in 4:3 on the big screen, and the colour transitions throughout the film are striking. It could have easily been padded into a 90-minute feature, but the editing maintains a pace many films would envy.

That does leave me with my reservation about Erupcja: the feeling of what more it could have been. While I’d argue it delivers enough—if not more—cinematic value than many other films currently in theaters, it left me thinking what these creatives might have accomplished if they had spent more time developing. Considering that much of the movie revolves around the moral implications of living for oneself versus for others, I would have loved to see that theme explored more deeply through the characters.
By the time the side characters say goodbye, it doesn’t feel finished like the dry, abrupt ending suggests. Still, with the unique energy Erupcja has going for it reminds me of the kind of films I used to travel to see: something scrappy and atmospheric, best appreciated in a museum or arthouse cinema, the kind of films that still deserve a place in our theatrical landscape.


