
The Catechism Cataclysm is a totally messed up film on multiple levels. Unless the odd charms and surreal twists of this bizarre effort have been spoiled for you, there’s close to no chance that you’ll ever see where this unexpectedly creepy narrative is headed. The tonal switches in this film are beyond surprising, and the last 15 minutes of the slender 75 minute running time are some of the sketchiest, most weirdly hilarious cinematic moments I’ve seen in a while. What starts as a goofy and amiable two-hander between two very different temperments ferments into something close to Cronenbergian in its bodily horror and pyschological questioning. You’ve definitely got to be up for a film that isn’t interested in providing concrete answers to some of the more provocative and heady questions that the story raises, as it’s clear that the witty and quirky writer/director Todd Rohal wants the audience to fill in the gaps. By the end, you’re left with something that is beyond strange yet undeniably intriguing.
Feeling like a tall tale told by campfire through a haze of bong smoke, this 2011 independent effort has an impressive list of creative credits, including producers Danny McBride, Jody Hill, Megan Griffiths, and David Gordon Green, with the versatile cinematographer Ben Kasulke calling the shots behind the camera. The story involves a sub-mental priest named Father Billy (Eastbound and Down’s Steve Little) who takes a weirdly timed camping trip with an old childhood buddy named Robbie (Robert Longstreet). Rohal’s film bounces back and forth between the odd couple pairing, with Robbie’s increasing hostility brimming to the surface after having to repeatedly suffer Father Billy’s numerous idiocies. This movie is just flat-out silly and funny and then very dark and odd; I can’t really compare it to much else. And then, before you know it, the movie swtiches gears and becomes something surreal and potentially sinsiter. I’d like to give credit to whoever created certain props during the “big sequence.” Crazy stuff indeed. Lynn Shelton cameos. Available to rent via DVD on Netflix, and currently streaming on Amazon.
