THE STORY – Illustrator Sonja Schmidt is persuaded by a hipper-than-thou culture mogul to accompany a gonzo journalistic expedition to a joint Soviet/American military base that monitors a Kazak radioactive zone.
THE CAST – Ella Rae Rappaport, Tyler Labine, Arvin Kananian, Emma Creed, and Andrew Lowery
THE TEAM – Pella Kågerman & Hugo Lilja (Writer/Director)
THE RUNNING TIME – 97 Minutes
When Pella Kågerman and Hugo Lilja’s “Egghead Republic” begins, audiences are flash-banged by images drowned in an acidic orange hue as the sands from a nuclear blast rise into the air. The silhouette of centaur-like beings appears in the frame, baffling those watching instantly within the first few minutes. The directing pair, who quickly establish an almost hallucinatory atmosphere, are gently preparing people for a sardonic outing that never really gains its footing. “Egghead Republic,” as a whole, is science fiction filmmaking at its least thought-provoking, falling apart when it attempts to center itself on how those in positions of power exploit truly desperate people.
It’s not shocking to state that in many industries, let alone creative fields, those willing to grind it out from the bottom of the totem pole feel that it’s only an endless cycle of misery. They need to constantly chip away at themselves in the service of advancing their career, often forgetting their passion in the first place. Even though “Egghead Republic” operates loosely in the realm of genre filmmaking, it’s very much focused on an individual’s willingness to be trampled in the hopes that these efforts will be reciprocated. These frustrations, propped up by Kågerman and Lija, bleed into the film’s protagonist, illustrator Sonja Schmidt (Ella Rae Rappaport). Her aspirations lead her to cross paths with media mogul Dino Davis (Tyler Labine), a skeezy media mogul promising the heavens to young Sonja. Dino is at the height of his powers, fueled by nothing but coke and alcohol, constantly abusing his position of power in the service of no one else but his own. Sonja, albeit willing to be used to a degree, hopes to trade her family history in the service of Dino’s biggest story yet, a visit past the Soviet-American military camp guarding the only location that fell victim to an attack from the Cold War in this fictional timeline. Dino, Sonja, and a small crew of journalists soon head over there in the hopes of “capturing reality,” but the deeper they push themselves past the border, darker revelations begin to reveal themselves.
“Egghead Republic’s” occasionally amusing but mostly nonsensical story is loosely adapted from Arno Schmidt’s 1957 novel, which starts strong in creating the bewildering vibe it wishes to prod. Unfortunately, it’s all revealed to be surface-level examinations of the concepts it holds dear to its heart. The deeper Pella Kågerman and Hugo Lilja’s screenplay plunges these characters past the radiation zone, it only repeats the same beats, mainly on how someone like Dino is a parasitic entity who only zaps the creativity and exuberance of those beneath him for the benefit of his own. This point is reinforced by Labine’s performance and costuming. Labine, whose appearance eerily resembles Orson Welles, is essentially playing a far more repugnant Charles Kane, molded in the image of someone like Harvey Weinstein. Labine’s performance exudes the right amount of disgust that would easily villainize someone of his predatory status, but he’s the sole performer who can make a meal of what he is given — even if it is, at times, treading the territory of being over the top. Rappaport is solid, although her character is basically a punching bag for Dino and others around him until the finale, which sees her take some agency, albeit in the service of terrible storytelling.
At the core of “Egghead Republic,” there is some fun low-budget filmmaking, as multiple dream-like sequences involve Sonja delving deep into her subconscious for creative inspiration. Her dreams are clouded with Roman-era statuettes, mythical creatures, and a myriad of other random imagery. There’s an austere artist at the core of this story that only reinforces a tired mantra that for one’s suffering, one must “endure” to create meaningful art, which is an exhausting trope. Funnily enough, the central plotline that the films build to is almost akin to that of “Opus,” a film earlier this year, which finds its protagonist in a similar situation, but it’s tonally a far different experience. Both are undercooked commentaries of similar industries, leaving a lot on the table. We see Sonja forced to inauthentically perform for Dino’s vlogs, pestered to consume substances, and even engage in a hallucinatory experience chasing those Centaurs rumored to exist in the irradiated sector.
None of it matters because it leads towards a resolution so antiquated it almost makes any low-budget novelty dissipate within seconds. If anyone can ride the wavelength of “Egghead Republic,” it would be shocking if they could get past an ending that not only waters down anything unique about the film, but also has been done countless times before, then maybe Kågerman and Hugo Lilja succeeded at what they wanted to achieve. It’s a shame that it can never maneuver past the playful delirium its concept inspires.
