Sasquatch Sunset review: A nature walk with Bigfoot

Sasquatch Sunset has more in common with a nature documentary than a narrative film: 89 minutes of wordless, but not silent, footage of a bigfoot family, which, at first, is only discernable by height. Even Sunset’s most recognizable star, Jesse Eisenberg, is lost under the layers of hair and prosthetics. The film’s other name star, Daisy Jones & The Six’s Riley Keough, the only woman in the cast, is indistinguishable from her screen partners but for her lactating breasts that nurse the youngest bigfoot (Christophe Zajac-Denek) throughout. By the end of the film, the sasquatch has been so thoroughly demystified that the missing link is reduced to another confused, scared, and horny Earthling.

Written and directed by brothers David and Nathan Zellner, the offbeat filmmakers behind the meta-western Damsel and Fargo-based wild-goose chase, Kumiko, The Treasure Hunter, Sasquatch Sunset observes this foursome in their natural habitat: eating, drinking, breeding, and, of course, walking. What would Bigfoot be without walking? Bigfoot has been getting his steps in since 1967, when the infamous Patterson-Gimlin film launched a generation of conspiracists. Their groundbreaking footage of Bigfoot strolling into the frame, hands swaying at his sides, clearly influenced the Zellners. However, neither Roger Patterson nor Bob Gimlin, the “documentarians,” ever conceded their film was a con. Their commitment to the bit is one the brothers Zellner nearly match. If they weren’t so concerned with making Sasquatch Sunset funny.

Structured as a year-spanning road movie, with demarcations breaking the film into bite-sized quarters, the plot sees our creatures wandering the untouched wilds of Northern California. These seasonal markers will be a welcome respite for squeamish audience members squirming at the sight of yet another spikey bigfoot penis, providing them with a sense of place in the film and also how much time remains.

For the midnight movie crowd, who will likely spend the most time with Sasquatch Sunset, vibes are paramount, and they deliver. Observing the actors as they explore the untouched serenity of nature in remarkably lifelike prosthetics qualifies as a form of green therapy. Set to the lyrical guitars of Octopus Project’s score, the movie maintains a tranquil and leisurely atmosphere for large swaths of its brief runtime. Easy jokes could be made comparing the film to Harry And The Hendersons or the Geico Cavemen. But the tactility of the make-up and performance is closer to the opening section of 2001: A Space Odyssey. Sunset’s performances engage through a sense of discovery drawn out by the Zellners’ script that carefully decodes the characters’ non-verbal cues. Some are self-evident—when the largest, angriest sasquatch (played by co-director Nathan Zellner) wants sex, he smacks the sides of his fists together to get it. Other actions take time to register—a mid-film scratch-and-sniff of the crotch reveals itself to be a pregnancy test.

The Zellner brothers’ interest in the sasquatch goes back to their 2010 Sundance short, Sasquatch Birth Journal 2. Those four minutes offer a more honest version of Sunset’s conceit. Aping the VHS grain and lo-fi buzz of amateur footage, Birth Journal is told over three shots, with the first lasting nearly four minutes as the camera patiently waits for the beast to give birth. The delivery scene in Sasquatch Sunset, by contrast, is much more audience-minded, drawing influence from Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls’ rhino birth, complete with shots of a bigfoot baby starting to crown, Bravo-esque reaction shots from other animals, and a nearby mountain lion feasting on bigfoot placenta. At best, it’s a little too eager to entertain. At worst, the directors seem self-consciously worried you’ll find the whole thing boring.

But Sunset is rarely dull, especially considering how radically different it is from other multiplex offerings. The Zellners’ script provides enough tonal variety to make this feel like a complete movie. As the film moves from summer to fall, the sasquatches begin running up against evidence of human life, the most terrifying being an empty stretch of road, perhaps the first the creatures have ever encountered. The humanoid apes look back and forth at the asphalt in horror, yelping and shrieking and peeing and pooping and lactating to show their disgust and fear. But the most fulfilling scene is an incident with a log that unearths unexpected emotions between Eisenberg and Keough. Everything works best when it’s coming through the performance, not the edit. Often, the directors’ touch isn’t light enough, and their forced attempts at humor upset the film’s natural balance.

Sasquatch Sunset will no doubt turn some people off. Others will lock into its rhythms, idyllic photography of the Californian wilderness, and unpredictable humor. The Zellners are too quick to put their thumbs on the scales, habitually unable to trust their actors to draw comedy out of their premise. Still, they make a remarkably compelling bigfoot drama. Sasquatch has never seemed more real.