Oh, so Flying Lotus played Electronic Arts’s Dead Space video games. Right? It’s one of the many influences in the musician-turned-filmmaker’s Ash, a science fiction dreadbomb dealing in claustrophobia and doomy vibes. He’s messing around in a familiar Event Horizon and Pandorum sandbox—with nods to Robert Rodriguez’s Earth-set The Faculty—but there’s enough gnarly cosmic horror imagery to set Flying Lotus’ zero-gravity mystery apart.
The sci-fi horror genre only has so many setups filmmakers can choose from, but as Flying Lotus shows, that doesn’t mean new films have to be creatively bankrupt.
Eiza González stars as Riya, an astronaut who regains consciousness on a distant planet to find her crew slaughtered. She has no immediate recollection of what happened as she wanders around the blood-smeared station she calls home. After a few brief and frightening memories flash back, her supposed rescuer arrives when Brion (Aaron Paul) appears at the airlock. He claims to be the only surviving member on her mission, repeating some “purpose” she cannot recall. Riya has a choice—trust Brion and escape with him, or find out what happened by remembering the truth.
Ash might be Flying Lotus’ most commercial release yet—between Kuso and “Ozzy’s Dungeon” from V/H/S/99—but it’s still Flying Lotus. The difference here is Jonni Remmler, the credited screenwriter. This is the first time Flying Lotus directs someone else’s idea, so it’s his vision laid atop something more narratively structured. We’ve seen this blueprint before. The catch here is Flying Lotus’ approach, which is—at first—a low-fidelity psychological thriller, then a mix of hallucinatory explosions, video game freakouts, and V/H/S fight sequences. It’s both existential and visceral, flipping between different modes of horror like a child toggling a switch for funsies.
There’s a positive sense of unpredictability about Ash, but plotting does feel stretched beyond its threshold. When Riya awakens, before Brion appears, there’s a lot of silence to fill. Then, when Brion appears, their investigation feels padded. The film uses these sticky patches as a storytelling device to repress Riya’s memories and past behaviors because she’s afraid to find out that she’s the psychotic murderer. A quick solution is there—stop medical suppressants—but Ash needs to string you along. That’s where familiarity is a bit of a downer, because outside Flying Lotus’ swirling celestial voids and grosser body horror squirms, Ash is on a predetermined course that takes some of the wind from beneath goop-covered sails.
Speaking of goop—my favorite segue—Ash shines when violence, delusion, and horror morph into a repulsive montage of snarling faces with almost zombie-like makeup. Flying Lotus references video game titles like Dead Space, Resident Evil, and Silent Hill on his mood board, leading to these jolting jump scares where Riya imagines or recalls the gruesome fates of her friends. Richard Bluck’s cinematography hugs tight around industrial station corridors drenched in red alarm lights and presses close against the mangled, sliced-up bodies of Riya’s teammates. There’s a harmony of practical and digital effects as skin melts and flames roast flesh, along with a palpable mania inflicted by busted craniums, swirling solar dust storms, and all sorts of environmental threats. When punched into top gear, it’s a slimy, slithery, head-spinning affair—which leaves a lasting impression.
Ash is González’s showcase, as she spends countless scenes acting against nothing but the vast emptiness of solar backdrops. Paul plays untrustworthy with the proper amount of discomfort to never clearly determine where his motivations stand—but it’s González who keeps us engaged. She disappears into metallic set designs and these aerodynamic suits that use finite resources to appear like they’d keep space travelers safe. Her belief in specific traumas, the eradication of humanity, and the otherworldly dangers that exist are a testament to her on-screen presence. González plays fearful, furious, and survival-hungry against some of the best—like Iko Uwais or Beulah Koale. Between surgery sequences with giddy helper bots and delirious memories, it’s easy to get lost in the fantasy imagery. But González becomes an anchor through her performance, guiding audiences through a cerebral and socially sickening story.
Flying Lotus reins himself in on Ash, which is saying a lot for anyone who’s seen Ash. It’s not that he’s ever needed to—we’ll forever need boundary-pushing filmmakers to challenge audiences—but it’s noticeable thanks to Remmler’s screenplay. The critiques are there, from a bit of narrative bloat to some special effects that have to get by on independent budgets, none of which destroy the experience. Ash is a mimic of its inspirations, but when blended, becomes a curiously gripping new flavor of science fiction horror.
Movie Score: 3/5
Matt Donato is a Los Angeles-based film critic currently published on SlashFilm, Fangoria, Bloody Disgusting, and anywhere else he’s allowed to spread the gospel of Demon Wind. He is also a member of the Critics Choice Association. Definitely don’t feed him after midnight.
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