A Desert Review: Neo-Noir Debut Can Only Rely on Atmosphere for a Limited Time

      Anything unusual, offbeat, or psychosexual tends to invoke the term "Lynchian" in reviews, descriptions, or promotional content. It has become a shorthand, ultimately simplifying more than just the work of an influential filmmaker; it represents a style that challenges conventional narrative storytelling. Something described as Lynchian is also, inherently, somewhat enchanting and elusive.

      Expect that people will characterize Joshua Erkman’s feature debut, A Desert, in this way. On the surface, it meets all the criteria. The narrative focuses on middle and rural America, features an Oz-like journey, and ultimately circles back to an ending that can be described as unclear, or at worst, nonsensical.

      While the ending—a bizarre collage that seeks to reframe the preceding story—will likely be the primary subject of discussion, it’s actually the least engaging aspect of Erkman’s film. Instead, it’s the split structure that creates a captivating, though at times frustrating, narrative. Initially, the film follows washed-up photographer Alex (Kai Lennox) as he traverses the flyover states, aiming to reconnect with his most commercially successful work. Leaving behind his phone and relying on strangers for guidance, he captures the rust belt with an antique camera, documenting the dilapidation of the American West, a theme that had once brought him recognition many years prior.

      A chance encounter at a rundown motel with Renny (Zachary Ray Sherman) and Susie Q (Ashley B. Smith), who claim to be siblings but likely represent a pimp and prostitute duo, abruptly derails his journey. Despite objecting to their noise, Alex invites them into his room for a portrait and to socialize, which leads him to revert to the hedonistic impulses he had suppressed long ago.

      While we learn what happens to Alex after he goes missing—a choice that diminishes the suspense of the story—his wife Sam (Sarah Lind) remains unaware. From this point, A Desert shifts focus to the private investigator Harold (David Yow) she hires to find him. Harold, who is washed-up in a different sense, carries a cynical perspective that colors his investigation. He feels at home in the motels and abandoned buildings that Alex romanticized through his lens, and his quest ultimately proves less engaging than the film’s other storyline. Erkman uses these two men as contrasting figures, comparing their different approaches to the world—one views the crumbling towns as mere aesthetic objects, while the other recognizes the pervasive darkness in humanity around him.

      This setup is engaging, but it doesn’t make for a particularly gripping narrative. We know what happened to Alex, and the unanswered questions about why are not compelling enough. Although occasional glimpses of a dim room filled with monitors showcasing gritty pornography hint at the dark, nightmarish journey that Harold and Sam experience towards the end, it serves primarily to create an atmosphere rather than convey a coherent message.

      The situation is further complicated by the foolish decisions made by both Alex and Harold throughout. While A Desert is being labeled as somewhat horror-adjacent, it’s their bewildering choices rather than the plot that seem to lean into the genre. Alex’s decision to invite Renny and Susie Q into his room, where he ends up consuming their strange liquor, is the kind of action that invites shouts from the audience. Even more perplexing is his choice to let Renny lead him further into the desert in search of more objects to photograph. Similarly, Harold’s decision to party with Susie Q—despite her entire demeanor suggesting she intends to drug him—raises eyebrows. One would expect that even a former cop as washed-up as Harold would exercise better judgment.

      It’s apparent that Erkman aims to channel Lost Highway. To some degree, he successfully creates a semblance of it, relying on atmosphere, narrative hints at deeper meanings, and hazy, neon-lit visuals. However, once the stylistic elements are established, what remains is a compelling yet frustratingly ambiguous film.

      A Desert is currently in limited release.