'Dashcam' Review: Rob Savage's Sophomore Effort Doesn't Shock Like 'Host,' But Remains A Visceral Thrill Ride

With 2020’s “Host,” director Rob Savage was not only one of the first out of the gate to create a COVID-era horror, but he and his creative collective delivered results that far exceeded expectations. It set a new standard for a sub-genre entry, becoming a global pop-culture phenomenon in a way that had not been seen since “The Blair Witch Project.” It’s a masterclass in fear that hits every target it aims for.

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Savage’s second dip into the pandemic project pool, “Dashcam,” doesn’t hold together or unfold as satisfyingly as “Host” did. That would have been almost impossible to do. However, it remains an accomplished piece of work that is head and shoulders above the vast majority of horror content that has attempted to embrace and reflect this unique era, especially those utilizing a POV mechanic.

The 77-minute film follows a right-wing American, Annie, played by Annie Hardy, who hosts a livestream called “Band Show.” Her channel is the canvas against which “Dashcam” plays out. She flees the United States (decked out in her mask emblazoned with the word ‘slave’ and a sweatshirt displaying anti-liberal messaging) during the lockdowns and heads for the UK. Right from the get-go, and irrespective of her political position, she’s an unsympathetic, obnoxious, and overbearing narcissist who grates on the audience.

Arriving at a British friend’s house where she’s meant to be staying, Annie immediately unleashes a whirlwind of obnoxiousness that almost instantly creates a rift between her host, Stretch, played by Amer Chadha-Patel, and his girlfriend. It’s genuinely uncomfortable to watch. From her waking the couple up in the middle of the night by slapping Stretch across the face with a spit-covered hand to her resistance to following COVID protocols, Annie goads the pair into conflict. She’s like a precocious child testing and pushing boundaries. Stretch has little choice but to take Anne out of the house with him as he works as a delivery driver. Of course, she livestreams the whole thing, including confrontations with members of the public and business owners, as she refuses to fall in line with the new normal. Tensions continue to rise as the pair returns to Stretch’s home, where things reach a head and the future of her presence is debated. Not waiting to hear her fate, Anne steals Stretch’s car and makes a run for it.

Up until this point, the only monsters are humans. Both sides in this ideological struggle aren’t exactly likable, so while you’re waiting for something horrific to happen, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll care what happens to them.

Now in a stolen vehicle and avoiding calls from Stretch, Anne decides to pick up one of his deliveries with the intention of devouring it herself. It appears to be closed for the night when she gets there despite an open front door. While exploring the restaurant, assuming there’s nobody there, a woman appears, asks if Anne has a car, and offers her a large amount of cash to take a friend, an elderly woman called Angela, to an address. This is where the bloody, disorientating, deeply unsettling, nerve-shattering, fluid-sodden livestreamed cacophony of chaos begins and assaults the viewer until the credits roll. To take you beyond this point would rapidly leap into spoiler territory, and the shock and awe should be experienced with the viewer knowing as little as possible about what lies ahead. I will say that Dashcam is the first, and hopefully only, film this year that has made me physically wretch.

Dashcam delivers a relentless, evolving monster movie that utilizes familiar genre tropes from various influences, including “REC,” “Chronicle,” and “Paranormal Activity: The Marked Ones.” However, it brings enough to the table that doesn’t feel familiar to make it work effectively. The albatross around the film’s neck is the fact that for entirely different reasons, you’re not sure the central characters, while portrayed well, are worth saving.

“Dashcam” has creative touches that season it nicely and catch both the eye and the imagination. However, what viewers don’t or can’t see often puts them on edge the most. The constantly shifting orientation of the feed shots as it flicks between landscape and portrait will have the audience craning their necks to try and see what is out of shot. With the ebb and flow of the numbers of people watching the livestream, including sections where a lack of signal means no one is able to watch, you can imagine an audience feeling the anxiety of not being able to witness what we see unfold. There are monsters on both sides of Annie’s feed. The comments themselves that scroll up the right-hand side of the feed alone offer quite a ride of their own. I actually watched “Dashcam” twice, the first time to engage with the film and a second time to focus on the creative touches and rollercoaster of interactions as the movie plays out. I highly recommend audiences do the same.

While most people will want to talk about the cinematography and visual innovations as I have, credit should also be given to the film’s sound design. Whether in a theater or viewed digitally, there’s a ferocity to the audio that really penetrates. Whether that’s the shattering of glass, the grind of metal, a gritty squelch, or the gurgle of a struggle to draw breath through blood, there’s a barbed stickiness to it all that is incredibly visceral and affecting. It’s in details like those where “Dashcam” perhaps excels the most.

Savage and his team of collaborators, including Gemma Hurley and Jed Shepherd, have delivered a solid sophomore feature produced by Blumhouse’s Jason Blum. The visions of this band of British horror auteurs remain some of the sharpest and most disquieting in the industry right now, so here’s hoping that Hollywood won’t round off the sharp edges that make these nightmares dig their teeth in and cut uncomfortably deep. [B-]