Something in the Dirt Gets Paranoid in Los Angeles

Photo: Rustic Films

Movies about Los Angeles tend to get weird. The hidden conspiracies of Chinatown, the looping meandering of The Big Lebowski, the sharp-edged desperation of Nightcrawler, all the nightmares inspired by that figure behind the dumpster in Mulholland Drive — look too long at glitz and glamor and it all takes on a seedier, grimier, and more nefarious glint.

Longtime filmmaking partners and collaborators Justin Benson and Aaron Moorhead set their latest sci-fi odyssey, Something in the Dirt, in that sandbox, reusing the crumbled castles and destroyed ramparts of this cinematic subgenre for their latest. A product of 2020 COVID-19 lockdowns that was filmed in Benson’s apartment, the film is noticeably influenced by the tug-of-war between forced claustrophobia and the allure of the seemingly sprawling world outside. It also feels more familiar than the duo’s other work, with a somewhat predictable structure of looming mystery and inexplicable cosmic oddness.

Something in the Dirt is not as scary as their paired films, 2012’s Resolution and 2017’s The Endless, nor as visually inventive as their last work, 2019’s Synchronic. The effects here are modest enough (a shimmering rainbow light, the thrumming drone of electrical pulses, an unnervingly bloody plant) that the focus remains on the power struggle between the co-leads, played by Benson and Moorhead themselves. And that choice works, letting Benson’s script — all hairpin turns, unreliable narration, and layered lies — guide us down a labyrinthine rabbit hole.

Something in the Dirt deftly bounces between the oddness of its central story, the silliness of its documentary framing, and the resentments that eventually develop between its main characters, all buried inside what is essentially a hangout movie. The film’s end credits reveal Benson and Moorhead’s dedication to “making movies with your friends,” and not even the preceding musings about blood-sacrificing cults can trample that sincerity. (If you want more of this kind of spookiness, Benson and Moorhead worked on a couple of episodes of the canceled-too-soon Netflix series Archive 81.) Something in the Dirt may not be wholly unique, but its enthusiasm and the skill with which it’s been put together go a long way.

In a crummy building in the Hollywood Hills, neighbors Levi (Benson) and John (Moorhead) strike up a tentative friendship. Both of them seem similarly aimless and untethered: Neither thought they would stay in Los Angeles for decades, neither is in a romantic relationship, and neither seems to have a strong social network. They’re both looking for something to pour themselves into, and so when Levi finds a strange crystal formation outside his apartment and John notices that it’s emitting a shimmering light, each latches onto it.

Maybe the light is a ghost and this is proof of the supernatural. Maybe the crystal is from another planet, and aliens are using it to communicate with them. Maybe the jagged, triangular symbol they see formed by the light is connected to the men who planned Los Angeles in the early 20th century. Maybe it’s numerology, maybe it’s parasites, maybe it’s an alternate dimension. Whatever the phenomenon is, John and Levi decide to work together to film and explain it with the goal of selling their documentary to Netflix. (A tidy inside joke given that the streaming service has been home to a number of the duo’s previous films before they branched into the Marvel cinematic universe with Moon Knight and Loki.)

But can two men who are clearly, to varying degrees, being deceitful and facetious with each other really work together successfully? Something in the Dirt challenges us to pay attention via contradictions in what Levi and John tell each other about their histories and their lives — then adds an additional layer of obfuscation by revealing that the film we’re watching is a frame within a frame. Should we trust the John and Levi we’re watching within the narrative or who we’re listening to in talking-head interviews? Are the scenes we’re being shown originals or re-creations? The score from returning collaborator Jimmy LaValle pokes fun at this tension. It emphasizes pauses within certain lines of dialogue, like when John commands the crystal, already beaming light, to “do something … different!” And when John links his thoughts on God with what he’s experiencing in the apartment, LaValle adds a flourish to Levi’s dismissive “You’re not Dana Fox or Mulder Scully.” That lighthearted touch contrasts with the ominous atmosphere Moorhead creates as cinematographer, often juxtaposing shots of wires, satellite dishes, and TV screens with shots of organic matter, like prickly cacti, decaying skeletons, and desert landscapes.

If there’s any truth in what John and Levi are showing us, Something in the Dirt seems to say, it’s in the middle between these concepts — between what humans manipulate about the natural world and what has intentionality of its own. If you’re expecting answers to all these questions, Benson and Moorhead are bound to disappoint. But for those who are fine without finality, Something in the Dirt’s funky, frenetic paranoia is fun to hang out with for a while.