Kritiken

[Spree] is a King of Comedy for an age in which images are ephemeral and disposable... a giddy adventure in screen maximalism, random violence, and cultural bitterness... The film is something of a latter-day Repo Man too. In this version of cinema, the future is now but, Kotylarenko implies, even if it is, nobody notices for more than a second.

If there’s supposed to be some sort of social critique at play amid the rising body count, it gets lost among the mash-up of genres and stylistic concept. Plenty of killers have committed atrocities in the pursuit of fame, so Kurt is hardly unique – if anything, it feels as though the film is reluctant to make his motivations too complex.

[Spree's] intent seems obvious — what would Travis Bickle be like if he joined the Twitterati (#AreYouTalkinToMe)? — but the execution lacks nuance, wit, insight, and even on its own satirical terms, a believable relationship to reality.

Both director [Eugene Kotlyarenko] and performer [Joe Keery] have a keen grasp of what makes this world so alternately appealing and frightening, and they are able to recreate it accurately because they too find it bewitching and repellent in almost equal measure.

At best, Spree is just another cynical attempt at manipulating audiences into believing they’re getting social commentary with their horror-comedy. At worst ― and Spree is often at its worst ― it’s borderline condescending and contemptuous of horror audiences (minus the borderline).

[Spree] could have got old quite quickly if it weren’t for such a charismatic lead in Keery... [and] the scenes without [him] aren’t nearly as engaging... But Spree is an often witty comment on the terrifying reality of the digital age and its grip on modern society.   

While there's nothing incredibly new here in the narrative, [Spree] is also a reminder that Keery has natural charisma, and is turning that to increasingly interesting ends. There's a touch of Kurt Russell about him, who has always been at his most fascinating when he rejects the standard leading man tack and instead leans into the venal, the self-obsessed, the shallow.

Despite its overt absurdity and compulsive over-the-topness, director Eugene "Wobble Palace" Kotlyarenko has delivered a cortex-frazzling alarm about the hazards of living a life wholly defined by touchscreens, emojis, tweets, selfies and narcissistic self-obsession.

The brash, larky satire is as broad as its targets. (Kotlyarenko’s debut feature, Wobble Palace, had more nuanced and original notes on social media and interpersonal relationships.) But Spree’s thin black joke is counterpointed by Keery’s central turn. His Kurt remains a pitiable, eager-to-please goofball, even as the bodies pile up.

Moralism is an unpopular word, but the film’s moralism is not one of final judgment, but as a critique of our values, also exemplified in past classics like Network, Ace in the Hole, and Dr. Strangelove. Spree finds social media unworthy of a species so worthy of dignity, and the movie is also schlocky fun.

“Spree” is an awkward and mostly unpleasant hybrid of social critique and horror-comedy... “Spree” feels like a day spent entirely on the Internet, leaping around from YouTube to Twitter to Google to TikTok and back, never staying in one spot longer than a few minutes … and I’m not sure that’s a good thing.

Hideous to look at and agonizing to listen to, “Spree” must hold the record for the greatest number of annoying characters in a single movie. Coarsely merging social-media critique and slasher comedy, this shallow take on the evils of internet addiction is as unoriginal as it is unfunny.