There’s a scene in Vulcanizadora where, in the darkness of the woods, one of the main characters unpacks a Discman and some analogue speakers he’s brought along to entertain his friend on their camping trip. Nothing works; the cable isn’t connected to the speakers at first, but they hiss anyway; the Discman skips and stutters, as they had a habit of doing. He finally gets it going, but ‘the show’ feels like a let-down by this point – just part of the toxic nostalgia which threads through the film and ensnares its characters. It’s a little funny and a little farcical, but it speaks to something deeper and more significant going on, a weird compulsion to cram as many disappointing but familiar experiences into this brief trip into the woods as possible.
We begin with the two men earlier that day, hiking deep into the Michigan woods. They chat affably enough, though it’s Derek (director/writer Joel Potrykus) who holds the floor, talking about the petty details of his life as they walk. Something feels immediately off about this. At first, it’s in the way that Derek’s good buddy Martin (Joshua Burge) seems troubled, and has little to say. But then, as Derek regales him with a tale of how he’s lost his keys, he finally asks – why do you need them? Why would you need them now?
This, then, isn’t a regular catch-up, and there’s something more at play. So they walk deeper into the known-unknown woods towards an agreed destination (with a couple of pauses as Derek stops to seek out something hidden since boyhood (hardly a Pulp Fiction briefcase moment, but it serves to underline his sad attachment to an unremarkable past). Things…even things which once held some sort of meaning, some brief excitement, are disappointing. Life has been disappointing. People have passed these guys over. Even when they get to their end point, the feeling is much the same.
But it’s at this point in the film that things take a much darker turn. Should we be laughing? Yes? No? In any case, the consequences of this fateful pact begin to branch out in unexpected ways from this point, prodding at the decisions which have been made and impacting upon the lives of others.
Whilst this kind of mumblecore/slacker/Temple of the Dog fan dialogue won’t be for everyone, it’s hard to imagine Vulcanizadora working so well without it. The unplanned feel of the lines and the unpolished delivery creates a compelling and plausible impression of men for whom the passing of time has proved to be a numbing experience. They’re both still stuck at an adolescent level – when things were, even if not promising, at least possible. The unrehearsed feel of their story gradually reveals uncomfortable truths about these people, who probably always wanted to be noticed and appreciated, but were never resilient nor erudite enough to be heard.
There are differences between them, though: Derek is more openly childlike. For him, the whole trip seems childish, in the sense of shrugging off the routine inanity of adult life – which only occasionally is described in enough detail to reveal it as pretty traumatic. Marty has other demons, more specific and pressing concerns, but he is determined to keep a hold on these. He wants to stick to the plan. These characters have appeared before in a Potrykus film; here, they’re no different and no better, but increasingly jaded and lost. The pain of letting go of the past, even when the past sucked, can be a burden – and the plan, The Plan, goes characteristically awry.
As the film progresses, the occasional guilty laughter dies away and we’re left with a rather weighty, existential piece about the distance which opens up between old friends. Okay, here it’s illuminated by an absurd and brutal situation, but the fact remains. Ultimately, this film is a tragedy about being overlooked – how it feels to never get the hang of living in a world which judges you, using criteria you never agreed. Vulcanizadora builds pathos for these men without simplistically siding with them – and certainly never by overwriting them.
It’s fitting that key moments of the film feature digging around in the sand or the dirt, looking for what you think you left there; the whole film is a search for lost things, and where it does make you laugh, it comes with a side-order of something close to dread. It’s an interesting, uncomfortable watch.
Vulcanizadora (2024) is in select cinemas now.
