The music roars, rising ever higher, a post-rock cacophony that builds, greater and greater, as the phrases flash, one after another on the pitch-black screen. I am over 40. I am losing my hair. I am divorced. I love my wife. I Melt With You. The stark, utterly memorable opening sequences of the film are a perfect example of the rest of this emotionally radioactive ride: it is beautifully done, it is stylistically impeccable, and it is purely, abjectly terrifying. It is not a film that, walking out of the theater, you want to like, but you do anyway.

Director Mark Pellington does an exceptional job of crafting these four characters, who, as per their annual ritual, take a week-long vacation together and try to recreate the feelings they had as young men, that sensation that the world was there for the taking, if only they could reach out and grab it. His cinematography is captivating, using handicam-style shooting to capture both the drug-induced intensity of the characters, as well as each one’s gradual emotional collapse. He uses the visual placement of characters, in particular, to its greatest advantage, showing how each man’s isolation is unique, but also complete. These stark images are backed up by heavy, throbbing music and absolute silence, respectively, creating a contrast that is effectively moving. These elements create an effect that is meant to envelop the viewer in the world of the story, and does so rather well.

Pellington isn’t alone in crafting this film, though, and the assistance he receives from his leading men is staggering. Thomas Jane, Rob Lowe, Jeremy Piven and Christian McKay are all phenomenal, each one bringing so much subtlety and finesse to each character that it is difficult to remember that these men are actors. There are so many moments I could list, from the impeccable cracking of Jane‘s bravado, to the phone call Lowe makes under the influence to try to understand his decaying life, to McKay‘s incredibly powerful breakdown in front of a bathroom mirror that rocked me to my core. Their performances were believable from start to finish, and it’s a good thing, too, for as the movie progresses, there is an increasing inkling that the rest of the characters are simply there as placeholders, that they are almost unreal, and they don’t belong in the true world of the four men. When the actors realize this, this sensation becomes even more pronounced; Carla Gugino, on the other hand, is almost painful to watch, playing a caricature of a county sheriff like she’s the star of the film. It’s a shame, too—she has too much screen time to be simply brushed away and forgotten, and so sits in the middle of things, raining on a perfectly good parade.

It is almost impossible for me to convey my personal problems with the film without giving

anything away, so I am intentionally vague when I say that the film does not have a very good message. It romanticizes things that, upon reflection, really should never be glorified in any way, shape, or form. Upon the completion of the film, I had a conversation with a reviewer on the other side of the “midlife crisis age” of the characters who was able to give me a very important perspective that, as someone in his idealistic and grandeur-seeking college years, I would never have seen. The problem with the film is that its adolescent nature is dangerous. That is not to say, however, that it is not powerful; on the contrary, it is its siren-like, hypnotic nature that is the reason it is so terrifying. Like an adolescent itself, it entices the viewer without realizing the consequences of such enticement, and so may lead many astray. It is because it is so well-crafted that it has such a horrible message.

There is no denying that, after I walked out of the theater and into a restroom stall and had closed the door, I started to shake violently, my body still trying to make sense of the emotions that had just been forced deep into my soul. The room spun, and it took me a few minutes to get my bearings. There is a magical quality to the film, there is no doubt, but I cannot, in good conscience, tell people my age to see it, for fear of what it might do to them. I’m usually a pretty level-headed guy, and after seeing such an electrifying, depressing film, I was shaken pretty hard. If you can take its message with a grain of salt, please see the film, because it’s one of the best-made ones you’ll see all year. Just don’t be lured in.

Synopsis:

Richard (Thomas Jane), Ron (Jeremy Piven), Jonathan (Rob Lowe) and Tim (Christian McKay) are old college buddies who gather for a week each year in Big Sur to celebrate Tim’s birthday and catch up with each other’s lives. On the surface, they look like typical men in their forties, with careers, families and responsibilities. But as with most people, there is more to them than meets the eye.

As the week progresses, they go down the rabbit hole of excess: mountains of drugs are consumed to a blaring rock ‘n’ roll soundtrack, parties with much younger women spin out of control. Exhausted and run ragged, they bare their souls and their reunion takes a much darker turn. When a promise from their past is brought to light, none of their lives will ever be the same. From director Mark Pellington, I MELT WITH YOU is a visually dazzling, wild and woolly trip deep into the male psyche, driven by four amazingly committed and profound performances from Thomas Jane, Jeremy Piven, Rob

Lowe and Christian McKay.