SXSW: “O’Dessa” - Film Review
This piece was originally published on Film Obsessive.
There are going to be many people who will choose to write about how absurd O’Dessa is and how it should be laughed at for its silly names, neon colors, and ’80s aesthetic. The names, the colors, the era, and the absurdity are all true, but those things together don’t necessarily make a bad movie. It’s how and why the components are put together. What is it saying? What do the filmmakers want the audience to get out of the film, and how do those components help or hurt?
O’Dessa takes place at an undetermined time in the future. The world is barren and broken, a dystopian wasteland ruled by the hypnotizing Plutonovich (Murray Bartlett) in the metropolitan city of Satylite. All eyes are glued to their TV sets as he spews meaningless tirades about how the world is broken and he is the only hope for the future. Never mind the fact that Plutonovich had a hand in breaking it for his own personal gain. Far on the outskirts of town is O’Dessa (Sadie Sink), a dirt farmer who lives with her ailing mother and the memory of her ramblin’ father. He passed down a guitar to O’Dessa and told her that she’s the world’s great hope for the future. That the songs she plays on that guitar have the power to change everything. This sets her off on a quest to Satylite City to take down Plutonovich. There, she crosses paths with a fellow singer (Kelvin Harrison Jr.) and a brutal enforcer (Regina Hall) of Plutonovich’s power.
It’s understandable if that plot made you recoil slightly. There’s a lot going on in the world of this film, and any number of things could turn someone off. When the film began with an epic overture and a preamble describing a prophecy that will save the world from darkness, it’s easy for your mind to wander to Star Wars. They share the same premise - a young, scrappy farm kid who dreams of a life beyond the one they know. They have a gift and a prophecy hanging over them, but they don’t know how to do what’s expected of them. It’s the classic hero’s journey through the depths of hell for something bigger than oneself. Luke Skywalker fights for change with a lightsaber, while O’Dessa does it through song. They’re one and the same, whether you want them to be or not.
O’Dessa is the sort of movie we don’t get to see anymore. It’s a big, studio-backed swing reminiscent of the ’70s and ’80s. I don’t want to say that movies like Speed Racer or Jupiter Ascending are the reason studios have become more cautious about flashy, leap-of-faith sci-fi films, but they certainly didn’t help. (Although Speed Racer is a genuinely good flick.) Couple those box office failures with the rise of superhero movies and the loss of genuine sentimentality in major films, and you have a heartbreaking loss of the genre that brought us movies like Star Wars. O’Dessa has returned us to the era of soapy, heart-on-the-sleeve epic journeys across lands that don’t look like our own, but bear a striking resemblance. They’re the kinds of stories that inspire us to dream. To be swept up and hopeful that the world as we know it can be changed. That dictators have no real power if the community comes together.
O’Dessa will not be for everyone, but one could argue that because it’s a post-apocalyptic folk-rock opera, you knew that going in. The thing is, there’s always the potential to fall in love with a piece of art that may not initially appeal to you. It’s one of the themes of the film. The public is so entranced by the one form of entertainment they know, they’re afraid of what something different would do to their worldview. Film and music have the power to stop you in your tracks and alter the course of your life. That’s the essence of art, and what every single one of us is chasing every time the lights go down. Perhaps a little ramblin’ farm kid can save your soul if you let your guard down and see O’Dessa as the sincere, electrifying leap of faith it is.
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