Imagine living in a world controlled by Big Brother and the pedophilic elite, a world resting atop an abyss of dark magic and diabolism that is a breath away from cracking open. In Dasha Nekrasova’s directorial debut The Scary of Sixty-First, you don’t have to imagine—you are slapped in the face with this reality, whether you can accept it or not. Taking place in modern-day New York City, college best friends Addie (Betsey Brown) and Noelle (Madeline Quinn) are apartment hunting and have lucked out on a gorgeous townhome in the Upper East Side that allows them to remain on their off-the-grid lifestyle (not paying taxes). The apartment is still filled with the leftover belongings of its past tenant, and the realtor— who is truly cursed looking— refuses to deal with it. The two ladies hardly care, considering they just scored a real estate deal that would make the entire cast of Girls have a riot.

The first act of the film can be enraging, especially to those unfamiliar with Nekrasova’s unperturbed and disaffected imprint. For a viewer going in blind, the initial twenty-five might warrant a write-off, or even a walk-out. The two lead characters are supposed to be long-time gal pals, but they have the chemistry of strangers acting opposite each other in a casting room. Their back and forth about their screwed-up parents and sexual shortcomings reads as if they’ve never had a conversation before. What’s missing is the intellectual, natural banter and charm in Nekrasova’s other claim to fame, the Red Scare podcast— a popular yet divisive show where two women critique the culture, touching on hot topics, political struggle, entertainment news, and conspiracies. A lot of listeners, fans, and haters alike make up the audience for this film, and their standards for monotonous yet hyper-intelligent discourse are not quite met in the early half of the film.

A subtle yet crucial tonal shift occurs with the arrival of director and star Nekrasova, playing herself—correction, playing an unnamed stranger known as ‘The Girl.’ She comes to the townhouse to warn Addie and Noelle about its sinister past and former owner, disgraced, deviant, and thankfully, dead, Jeffrey Epstein. With a briefcase full of newspaper clippings and Vyvanse prescription bottles, The Girl entangles Noelle in her pursuit of the truth with cult-like persuasion— which includes exposing the Clinton crime family. She claims she’s an investigator because the feds obviously can’t be trusted in this case. On the other side of the townhouse, Addie is showing signs of what can only be described as demonic possession, but if the demon wanted to get off to Prince Andrew. Her actions that follow are too illicit to even type out.

The sometimes cringe-worthy and nonsensical first half makes up for itself by proving to be an ostentatious, deliberately provocative fable that refuses to take itself as seriously as the characters do. Nekrasova’s style as a new director really begins to shine through— individualistic in her own right but channeling the best aspects of filmmakers like Dario Argento, Vincent Gallo and, ironically, Roman Polanski, with obvious nods to films like The Tenant (1976), Possession (1981) and Eyes Wide Shut (1999). The cinematography is mystifying and alluring, thanks to 16mm film and cinematographer Hunter Zimny. The score, composed by Eli Keszler, is arguably the best technical part of the film—Keszler is the Hildur Guðnadóttir to Scary’s Joker.

Despite my bias towards Dasha (long-time RS listener), I can agree that the film is probably not for the faint of heart or politically correct. I can recognize where it went wrong, and still laud the things it got right. My particular gripes centre around the lack of subtext. Everything is on the nose, everything is laid out on a platter. Plus, there are simply too many montages. A montage is the lazy-man’s way of filling its runtime with pretty images. Even so, the faults still don’t take away from the beguiling and thrilling odyssey. Co-writers and co-stars Nekrasova and Madeline Quinn crafted a daring and oftentimes hilarious script that brings the body horror genre to our ultramodern nightmarish reality, where things like The Lolita Express and Little Saint James are no longer folklore.

^{*originally reviewed out of the Vancouver International Film Festival in 2021, published on flipscreened.com on 10/23/2021}