The McManus Brothers’ Redux Redux tinkers with narrative fire. Time loops and parallel universes have bested countless indie filmmakers. For every Blood Punch, +1, or Dead End, there are double the negative examples—a fate that Redux Redux avoids. Kevin and Matthew chase their salty and suspenseful festival darling, The Block Island Sound, with a science fiction revenge thriller that throttles tension into fifth gear. It’s thoughtfully conceptualized on a modest budget, depicts temporal jumps without visual hokiness, and delivers a gutsy morality tale that drips with blood-soaked intrigue.
The duo’s sister Michaela McManus stars as Irene Kelly, a grieving mother with fantastical technology that allows her to kill her daughter’s murderer over and over. Irene’s mission is to rid every universe of Jeremy Holm’s predatory serial killer (Neville). She transports from existence to existence without much differentiation—this isn’t a Rick and Morty episode where each universe dons a unique theme. She sometimes stops for a cocktail with Jim Cummings’ chatty cigarette quitter (Jonathan), but it’s a momentary social distraction. All Irene cares about is burying Neville until the pain goes away—before she makes a startling discovery that changes everything.
The sibling filmmakers don’t overcomplicate Redux Redux’s space-time eccentrics, a wise direction for their otherwise emotionally driven screenplay. Irene’s anger stems from a place of insurmountable loss, driven by a fiery rage that’s all-consuming. Michaela’s character is given a choice between moving on or indulging obscene violence, and when the chaos begins, she’s fully invested in the latter’s vice. Holm’s scummy diner cook and underage child killer dies a whole lot at Irene’s hands, but the cycle begs the question, are these acts of violence filling the hole in her heart? It’s nothing groundbreaking, but the McManus boys elevate a familiar conversation about raw trauma through unconventional means.
As the plot further unfolds, Redux Redux pulls an ace from its sleeve: Stella Marcus. Her pivotal performance (and noteworthy debut) alters the film’s heavy tone, influencing change within Irene by adding another wrinkle to the “vengeance or healing” discussion. Stella’s character Mia brings a portal-hopping road trip vibe to Irene’s adventure, lightening an insurmountably bleak first act about vigilante justice. The McManuses rightfully realize how repetitive an onslaught of death might become should Irene not have her mindset challenged, finding a clever entry point to an even richer dialogue. Stella and Michaela share a strong intergenerational chemistry that launches Redux Redux to another level, but never by totally abandoning dark-as-hell themes.
Production design is cleverly resourceful and storytelling winds suspensefully tight, like Safety Not Guaranteed or New Life. It’s low-fidelity science fiction that crafts a coffin-like steel contraption as a time machine, sealing Irene inside as red lights and hazy visuals represent paradoxical travels. Taylor Misiak (Dave, Going Dutch) doesn’t have a huge role, but plays a hush-hush mechanic who drags us further into Irene’s strange reality, using a simple parts sale to solidify Redux Redux’s minimalistic universe. Kevin and Matthew squeeze every last drop of high-concept juice from their meager (in comparison) production, excelling as storytellers who make us believe in merciless lunacy without million-dollar effects.
Redux Redux is a fantastic example of accomplishing so much with so little. The performers lock into a captivating standoff between Michaela’s broken spirit, Stella’s bouncier immaturity, and Jeremy’s pig of a criminal. Then you’ve got the do-it-yourself cunningness of a textbook independent production maximizing sci-fi vibes on a budget, skillfully honed by the filmmaking McManus twins. All parts hum and sing in unison as Irene keeps respawning at a save point to kill the same boss on repeat, but the film is far from a one-note actioner. Redux Redux is slick, sobering, and dreadfully tense in spades but also desperately relatable, working within genre confines to secure a core soulfulness beneath the mountain of Jeremy Holm corpses.
Movie Score: 4/5
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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