FreshGee, online dating must be murder these days! Just ask single-girl-in-the-big-city/romantic hopeful, Noa (Daisy Edgar-Jones), who thinks she's stumbled across the perfect man, Steve (Sebastian Stan), a plastic surgeon and grocery store grape enthusiast (have to justify his character's entrance somehow), after she fails to find one via online dating apps. What starts as a whirlwind romance right out of a fairy tale turns into a living nightmare in short order after Steve drugs and imprisons Noa, then informs her that he intends to sell parts of her body to an exclusive clientele of cannibals, revealing himself to be more Hannibal Lecter than Prince Charming.
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If you go looking for Fresh, you'll likely find that it was released "only on Hulu", a streaming service now owned by Disney (like everything else anymore), and unfortunately it bears all of the earmarks of the kind of rapid fire production released en masse on platforms like this these days. Fresh feels like it was produced by committee more concerned with checking focus group boxes and shoehorning in superficial story and character elements than allowing for any genuine creativity. It seems to me that streaming services like Hulu, Netflix, Amazon Prime, et cetera approach movie production from what I like to call "The Spaghetti Method": throw as much content out there as humanly possible as fast as possible (at the expense of quality writing, acting, and more) and just see "what sticks". Fresh is a technically sound movie, with a surprising attention to subtler details (like set design), yet fails to overcome its terribly unoriginal premise, uneven performances, and a tonal inconsistency that is so jarring, that it is (ironically) one of its only constants. This movie is impatient about defining Noa as anything other than a caricature of that single girl trying to pluck that pearl of romance amidst a sea of swine from the start. She commiserates with her sassy yet supportive gal-pal, Mollie (Jonica T. Gibbs) about the cash only place her date, a scarf-wearing nozzle named Chad (Brett Dier)--because of course he's named "Chad"--insisted on going to. And of course the food and atmosphere do not justify Noa's inconvenience, but even more expected is that Chad is a sexist troll who alienates Noa at every turn...and he's boring and unattractive. So Noa is back to square one swiping left on her phone--and all of the graphic risks that entails--until she stumbles into Steve at the grocery store. Steven manages to pry open her resistance with artificially awkward charm and an almost shy ask for her phone number, texting her later for a date. It is to the lead actors' credit (if only in this prologue) that their dialogue and delivery of it feels natural and gradual, even if Steve is ultimately harboring a vicious secret...and this is where Fresh ironically starts to fall apart.
One of the film's idiosyncrasies is that it withholds the title and opening credits until approximately thirty minutes into the movie, a directorial flourish that this movie only earns on the basis that the movie itself mutates into something nearly unrecognizable at this juncture by deliberately withholding nigh any clue about its "big twist". And this is how the movie fundamentally fails because you probably should know what you're in for before you even get to this point; and if you don't, you're going to stop watching right here anyway. (And you're probably better off for it.) From an audience standpoint, this makes Fresh the kind of black comedy horror movie that could only appeal to viewers who can both identify with Noa's romantic woes and stay for the grisly bloodbath that follows; niche, indeed. It would be like someone changed the channel midway through an episode of "Sex and the City" to put on The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, from which Fresh cribs extensively. See, what Fresh is trying to say via the development of Noa and Steve's "relationship" is that theirs is ultimately a toxic one, and that Steve is evil not just because he is an unrepentant cannibal, but even more because he is the quintessence of an abusive scumbag. Outwardly, he is charming, funny, attractive, and rich, so Noa--in, frankly, her own vapid way--thinks that she has found "the one". But this is where the movie's impatience continues to rear its ugly head. What do these two people really have in common? Heck, what does Noa even like, short of some unimportant cardio boxing exercise with Mollie (which, unfortunately, remains irrelevant at the inevitable climax of Fresh). These are empty characters; maybe the intent is for them to be vanilla ciphers for audiences to project their own experiences onto, but I'm not buying it. Fresh takes its viewers for granted in this way, and assumes that they're probably spending that first half of an hour still getting settled into their seats whilst sending a few texts of their own before the real action starts. And unless you went into this movie fully aware of the premise, you certainly will feel disoriented (if not cheated) by the time of the turning point.
Now, before I continue to tear into Fresh, I think that it's only fair that I acknowledge some of the things that the film does rather well...in fact, too well for this made-for-streaming app filler. First, there's the set design, which has a surprising level of nuance and authenticity to it. Little touches do a lot to create convincing spaces like Noa's apartment. It looks like attention was given to every little detail laid out on her table, from where her cell phone rests, to her laptop. Even Steve's choices of decor in his opulent forest retreat (with conveniently poor cell signal) includes the kind of abstract artwork and cutting edge technology that would absolutely adorn a stinking rich plastic surgeon's slyly sinister secret lair. And no matter how good of a plastic surgeon Steve is, this retreat is still far more elaborate than it should be, which somehow fails to set off any red flags for the cautious Noa. But this justifies his "side business", which is to carve up parts of the girls he abducts and shrink wrap in plastic to send off to his "clients" in freeze packs like some bespoke Blue Apron food delivery service. (And yes, shrink wrapping your meat into manageable portions weighed out in advance is a very smart food preservation strategy; another plus in this movie's corner, even if only a small one.) There are also defiantly unsettling moments like when Noa--in a thinly-veiled ruse to ingratiate herself with Steve after a failed escape attempt by feigning interest in his culinary predilections--is served a pasta dish with seasoned, ground up lady on top. This scene is shot in a way to invite comparisons to films known for their fondness for depicting fine cuisine while intending to make audiences salivate, like The Big Night. (I'd hate to see how many people would need to be killed to produce a timpano of that movie's stature.) And despite its ultimately meaningless role in the larger part of the story, much of the dialogue in the prologue is so natural and authentic--like the kind of small talk and friendly interplay between Noa and Mollie--that if somehow you didn't see or know about the movie's twist, you would be forgiven for thinking that this movie was somehow something else entirely, like a rom-com interrupted.
It's so confusing then that for the rest of Fresh, the movie continues to descend into a widening gyre of self-parody and excessive tonal disparity. The plot becomes pure hokum, as Mollie suddenly gets suspicious about what happened to Noa, and sets off on an investigative mission--which mostly involves searching on Google and flirting with an ex-boyfriend named Paul (Dayo Okeniyi), who conveniently tends the bar where Noa and Steve had their first date (for real?!?)--to save her friend. And for all of Steve's affluence, do you think that he'd really adjoin the cells for his kidnapped lady livestock so that they could pass along secret dialogue with each other, like Noa does with a woman named Penny (Andrea Bang)? Of course, all of these details are there just to build up to the cliche climax with not one but three "final girls", rising up to thwart the evil man literally (and in Noa's place, metaphorically) tearing them down into nothingness. Sebastian Stan's affability is played against type when he is revealed to be the Wolfgang Puck of human consumption. His "hobby" is obviously vile, but he maintains a cool confidence and swagger that is apparently meant to speak to how or why women stay in relationships with abusive men. (I mean, the ones who don't necessarily chain them to the wall.) The idea of a charming psychopath is hardly new, and watching Sebastian Stan ham it up--like when he sings and dances to pop songs while surgically removing Noa's posterior--is like a pale imitation of Christian Bale's iconic role as a Wall Street cannibal named Patrick Bateman in American Psycho, one of the many movies that inspired this uninspired flick. (Even the copious needle drops in this movie seem to be ripped from that film...if that sounds better than plagiarized, at least.) There is also the (have to say it) unconvincing performance by Daisy Edgar-Jones, notably around the end, when it is too unclear even for the audience whether she is falling into Steve's circle of depravity or playacting at a blossoming interest in his dietary fetish and side hustle. She withholds too much from viewers looking to adequately get inside Noa's mind to the point that it becomes impossible to meaningfully identify with her as a protagonist by this point. Fresh never takes itself seriously, and this is its biggest problem. It is too interested in making all-too-knowing nods to horror movie tropes, and then subverting them while winking at the camera. Take when Paul (who is black) drives up to Steve's reclusive abode in the dark, discovers that he has no cell phone signal (of course), sees that things are amiss, and instead of going inside to save Mollie as he intended, he drives away, scared for his own skin. This is a nod to a horror movie trope where the black man walks into unfamiliar territory by himself and gets killed, à la Stanley Kubrick's The Shining. And there is something unmistakably familiar about the idea of a "mad doctor" kidnapping (at least) three people and planning on using weaponized surgery to fulfill his twisted desires...too familiar, as this is a rough description of yet another iconic (if highly disturbing and graphic) low budget horror movie: The Human Centipede. So by the time the credits mercifully roll for Fresh, audiences who are totally unfamiliar with horror movies might be forgiven in thinking that they've seen something original, but nearly anyone with a passing knowledge of some of these most notable genre examples will know that those credits have a lot of thanking to do. Advertisements for the movie should probably include a list of the aforementioned films in advance as a courtesy...or an apology. It's like when Alfred Hitchcock was told that Dressed to Kill was an "homage" to his works, to which he replied, "You mean fromage?"
Recommended for: People who already know what they're getting with this wildly inconsistent "black comedy horror movie", that fails to truly capture black comedy or horror to any meaningful degree, covering up a pedestrian story and flat characters with an obnoxiously wacky soundtrack and expected genre tropes, subverted or otherwise. With its heavy-handed #MeToo influence and its tired parading around of set pieces from a bevy of far better horror movies that preceded it, Fresh is anything but.
One of the film's idiosyncrasies is that it withholds the title and opening credits until approximately thirty minutes into the movie, a directorial flourish that this movie only earns on the basis that the movie itself mutates into something nearly unrecognizable at this juncture by deliberately withholding nigh any clue about its "big twist". And this is how the movie fundamentally fails because you probably should know what you're in for before you even get to this point; and if you don't, you're going to stop watching right here anyway. (And you're probably better off for it.) From an audience standpoint, this makes Fresh the kind of black comedy horror movie that could only appeal to viewers who can both identify with Noa's romantic woes and stay for the grisly bloodbath that follows; niche, indeed. It would be like someone changed the channel midway through an episode of "Sex and the City" to put on The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, from which Fresh cribs extensively. See, what Fresh is trying to say via the development of Noa and Steve's "relationship" is that theirs is ultimately a toxic one, and that Steve is evil not just because he is an unrepentant cannibal, but even more because he is the quintessence of an abusive scumbag. Outwardly, he is charming, funny, attractive, and rich, so Noa--in, frankly, her own vapid way--thinks that she has found "the one". But this is where the movie's impatience continues to rear its ugly head. What do these two people really have in common? Heck, what does Noa even like, short of some unimportant cardio boxing exercise with Mollie (which, unfortunately, remains irrelevant at the inevitable climax of Fresh). These are empty characters; maybe the intent is for them to be vanilla ciphers for audiences to project their own experiences onto, but I'm not buying it. Fresh takes its viewers for granted in this way, and assumes that they're probably spending that first half of an hour still getting settled into their seats whilst sending a few texts of their own before the real action starts. And unless you went into this movie fully aware of the premise, you certainly will feel disoriented (if not cheated) by the time of the turning point.
Now, before I continue to tear into Fresh, I think that it's only fair that I acknowledge some of the things that the film does rather well...in fact, too well for this made-for-streaming app filler. First, there's the set design, which has a surprising level of nuance and authenticity to it. Little touches do a lot to create convincing spaces like Noa's apartment. It looks like attention was given to every little detail laid out on her table, from where her cell phone rests, to her laptop. Even Steve's choices of decor in his opulent forest retreat (with conveniently poor cell signal) includes the kind of abstract artwork and cutting edge technology that would absolutely adorn a stinking rich plastic surgeon's slyly sinister secret lair. And no matter how good of a plastic surgeon Steve is, this retreat is still far more elaborate than it should be, which somehow fails to set off any red flags for the cautious Noa. But this justifies his "side business", which is to carve up parts of the girls he abducts and shrink wrap in plastic to send off to his "clients" in freeze packs like some bespoke Blue Apron food delivery service. (And yes, shrink wrapping your meat into manageable portions weighed out in advance is a very smart food preservation strategy; another plus in this movie's corner, even if only a small one.) There are also defiantly unsettling moments like when Noa--in a thinly-veiled ruse to ingratiate herself with Steve after a failed escape attempt by feigning interest in his culinary predilections--is served a pasta dish with seasoned, ground up lady on top. This scene is shot in a way to invite comparisons to films known for their fondness for depicting fine cuisine while intending to make audiences salivate, like The Big Night. (I'd hate to see how many people would need to be killed to produce a timpano of that movie's stature.) And despite its ultimately meaningless role in the larger part of the story, much of the dialogue in the prologue is so natural and authentic--like the kind of small talk and friendly interplay between Noa and Mollie--that if somehow you didn't see or know about the movie's twist, you would be forgiven for thinking that this movie was somehow something else entirely, like a rom-com interrupted.
It's so confusing then that for the rest of Fresh, the movie continues to descend into a widening gyre of self-parody and excessive tonal disparity. The plot becomes pure hokum, as Mollie suddenly gets suspicious about what happened to Noa, and sets off on an investigative mission--which mostly involves searching on Google and flirting with an ex-boyfriend named Paul (Dayo Okeniyi), who conveniently tends the bar where Noa and Steve had their first date (for real?!?)--to save her friend. And for all of Steve's affluence, do you think that he'd really adjoin the cells for his kidnapped lady livestock so that they could pass along secret dialogue with each other, like Noa does with a woman named Penny (Andrea Bang)? Of course, all of these details are there just to build up to the cliche climax with not one but three "final girls", rising up to thwart the evil man literally (and in Noa's place, metaphorically) tearing them down into nothingness. Sebastian Stan's affability is played against type when he is revealed to be the Wolfgang Puck of human consumption. His "hobby" is obviously vile, but he maintains a cool confidence and swagger that is apparently meant to speak to how or why women stay in relationships with abusive men. (I mean, the ones who don't necessarily chain them to the wall.) The idea of a charming psychopath is hardly new, and watching Sebastian Stan ham it up--like when he sings and dances to pop songs while surgically removing Noa's posterior--is like a pale imitation of Christian Bale's iconic role as a Wall Street cannibal named Patrick Bateman in American Psycho, one of the many movies that inspired this uninspired flick. (Even the copious needle drops in this movie seem to be ripped from that film...if that sounds better than plagiarized, at least.) There is also the (have to say it) unconvincing performance by Daisy Edgar-Jones, notably around the end, when it is too unclear even for the audience whether she is falling into Steve's circle of depravity or playacting at a blossoming interest in his dietary fetish and side hustle. She withholds too much from viewers looking to adequately get inside Noa's mind to the point that it becomes impossible to meaningfully identify with her as a protagonist by this point. Fresh never takes itself seriously, and this is its biggest problem. It is too interested in making all-too-knowing nods to horror movie tropes, and then subverting them while winking at the camera. Take when Paul (who is black) drives up to Steve's reclusive abode in the dark, discovers that he has no cell phone signal (of course), sees that things are amiss, and instead of going inside to save Mollie as he intended, he drives away, scared for his own skin. This is a nod to a horror movie trope where the black man walks into unfamiliar territory by himself and gets killed, à la Stanley Kubrick's The Shining. And there is something unmistakably familiar about the idea of a "mad doctor" kidnapping (at least) three people and planning on using weaponized surgery to fulfill his twisted desires...too familiar, as this is a rough description of yet another iconic (if highly disturbing and graphic) low budget horror movie: The Human Centipede. So by the time the credits mercifully roll for Fresh, audiences who are totally unfamiliar with horror movies might be forgiven in thinking that they've seen something original, but nearly anyone with a passing knowledge of some of these most notable genre examples will know that those credits have a lot of thanking to do. Advertisements for the movie should probably include a list of the aforementioned films in advance as a courtesy...or an apology. It's like when Alfred Hitchcock was told that Dressed to Kill was an "homage" to his works, to which he replied, "You mean fromage?"
Recommended for: People who already know what they're getting with this wildly inconsistent "black comedy horror movie", that fails to truly capture black comedy or horror to any meaningful degree, covering up a pedestrian story and flat characters with an obnoxiously wacky soundtrack and expected genre tropes, subverted or otherwise. With its heavy-handed #MeToo influence and its tired parading around of set pieces from a bevy of far better horror movies that preceded it, Fresh is anything but.