South of Heaven

If your most harrowing fears vacationed on an airbrushed spaghetti western soundstage, they might look something like the quasi-Earthly SOUTH OF HEAVEN, a wholly unique and darkly comic id-ride through some of the more questionable corners of the human condition. Roy Coop (Adam Nee) is a recently discharged Navy boy intent on finishing the great American novel and living the good life, all of which is blown to hell when a case of mistaken identity leaves him violated and completely subhumanized. Meanwhile, his brother Dale (Aaron Nee) is on the run from the law alongside formidable kidnapper/murderer/all-around maniac Mad Dog Mantee (Shea Wigham). In the grand tradition of lawless cinema, everything spirals relentlessly downwards, leaving each character running for their life, foaming for vengeance, or both. Add considerable helpings of femme fatales, spine-snapping hit men and monstrous human deformities, and you’ve got an undeniably ambitious feature that harkens back to the olden days of pulp criminal bloodlust while remaining unflinchingly innovative in every respect.

This is the first feature from J.L. Vara, and it may be the most stylistically impressive directorial debut since 2000’s TEARS OF THE BLACK TIGER. The film immediately lulls the audience into a false sense of Norman Rockwell-era whitebread comfort before turning the world upside-down on their heads. Brilliant character actor – and longtime Alamo pal – Jon Gries (NAPOLEON DYNAMITE, THE MONSTER SQUAD) appears as a heartless-but-dapper hood, and Wigham’s performance as Mad Dog will have you convinced that he ate a kitten every day before shooting, just to get into the role. Leads The Nee Brothers are Austin festival veterans, having co-directed the much-ballyhooed SXSW entry THE LAST ROMANTIC a couple years back, but no comparisons can be made there. In fact, we hereby guarantee that SOUTH OF HEAVEN is like nothing you’ve ever seen. (Zack Carlson) —Fantastic Fest