Like Me Even More…
On one level, the title Like Me speaks to the social-media landscape that measures an individual’s worth in terms of how many “likes” they can garner. On another, it alludes to assimilation – the sentiments and behaviors one must adopt in order to toe a line of social acceptability, or – if you’re feeling ambitious – popularity.
Horror at its Core?
Long before the closing credits rolled, I was doing mental gymnastics to find a way to link Robert Mockler’s feature debut, Like Me, to the horror genre.
It’s a horror film in the same way being an active participant on social media is like a horror film. The same way that the fictional cult of personality that informs the titular character’s actions in Ingrid Goes West makes that a horror film.
In fact, one could accurately describe Like Me as “Gummo meets Ingrid Goes West.” It’s the movie Tragedy Girls should have been.
Get Delusional
The power of delusion and the ability to capture said delusions through simple, affordable, and commercial-grade electronics is both exhilarating and frightening. What are the parameters of taste and personal responsibility when morality hangs in subjective limbo? What separates a garden-variety attention whore from one that has a million followers online?
Like Me posits social media as a kingdom ruled by antisocial tendencies – a bread and circus that fosters the lowest common denominator. Anyone can record something with their smartphone, but what makes it “art”? When a real-life YouTube personality makes jokey comments in front of Japan’s “Suicide Forest” and becomes even more popular for the controversy it kicks up, you know you’ve moved into a sociological framework beyond the veil of irony.
All about Kiya
A similar obliviousness informs the exploits of Kiya (Addison Timlin – Afterschool), who is introduced in the midst of her viral rise to fame. We open on her tormenting a worker at a drive-through convenience store (The Battery’s Jeremy Gardner), who all but deconstructs her motives as she stands there silently, wearing a holographic mask while recording his increasingly erratic actions with her cell phone.
Kiya is given no backstory, and even less attention is paid to her character traits outside the context of her status as an online icon. What’s telling is how she seems generally disaffected by her celebrity, and is far more responsive to retaliatory videos by Burt (Ian Nelson), who calls Kiya out on the fickleness of her “act.” These cutaways recall the Videodrome speech about the “rot” of North America with the “cesspool” of a cable-access station transposed onto the vast expanse of the Internet. She looks at Burt’s relentless taunts as provoking incentives to escalate her behavior.
Capturing a Friend
Kiya ups her spree by implicating herself in a kidnapping scheme with Marshall (Larry Fessenden), an inadvertent signifier of the #MeToo movement (he brags about bedding underage girls, but the rooms of the motel he manages are rich with tapestries of his own design). Their relationship is informed by Kiya’s disconnect from any semblance of conscience – there is no question of her unspoken authority over Marshall, to the point where it makes sense that the police never show interest in her actions (Burt comments on this, signaling his own contempt for authority: “Are all cops universally incompetent?”).
During the initial encounter between Kiya and Marshall, the latter allows himself to be force-fed junk food while Kiya straddles him, dispassionately filming every moment. While this sequence begins with a Lolita-esque setup of potential sexual congress, it devolves into a neon-lit exercise in humiliation. It culminates in Marshall swallowing milk and puking up what he’s just eaten, which repurposes the notion of a “money shot.” Mockler trades sex for excess, suggesting that audiences may be more responsive to the latter.
High
Complemented by yet another moody, atmospheric score by Giona Ostinelli (who has done superlative work for Mickey Keating, among others), Mockler incorporates experimental technique as a character unto itself: the suggestion that Like Me is a fairytale is given weight by the neon-soaked cityscapes; the stuttering, grotesque close-ups of open mouths filled with colorful, half-chewed food; and the characters’ own inconclusive, symbolic natures. This isn’t about Kiya’s rise to fame, but sustaining a high long after what made the high a high in the first place has dissipated. Which speaks volumes to the film’s final, striking image.
4 out of 5 stars
The Plot Sickens: Check out Jonny Numb’s review of 2018’s best slasher, Terrifier!
Crash Analysis Support Team
Jonny Numb
Jonny Numb (aka Jonathan Weidler) is far from a social-media celebrity, but his mom thinks he’s cool. His morally questionable tactics for gaining attention can be found on full display on Twitter and Letterboxd @JonnyNumb. He also co-hosts THE LAST KNOCK podcast with Billy Crash.
Get your Crash Palace and The Last Knock gear!
THE LAST KNOCK horror podcast is a Crash Palace Productions’ featured show. Besides this site, you can find THE LAST KNOCK on iTunes with new shows posted every other Sunday at 9 PM ET.
Crash Palace Productions website design and creation from Brian Yount Digital Enterprises with banner and THE LAST KNOCK art from Palko Designs.
(Like Me still from Collider.)