A Scout Tafoya Movie Marathon, Part 1: 'Epigenesis' + 'Hang the Pale Bastard'

A blackmailing troublemaker and an acid western landscape - not a bad double feature

From Epigenesis

Dear Moviegoers,

Why marathon four films by one independent filmmaker?
Why not?

Scout Tafoya - video essayist and film critic, has quite a prolific resume of narrative movies under his cap (check out his Vimeo channel), not to mention feature-length documentaries and other critical experiments.

I understand that he’s decided to move away from no-budget filmmaking in favor of larger projects, and with that in mind, he has uploaded three more flicks for the on-demand audience. “Gay Post-Punk Odysseys.”

Not a whimper, but a bang.
Not going out, but raging on.

Enjoy the first two reviews in my four-film marathon - part 2 will feature a special entry, so stay inboxed:

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Throughout my watch of Epigenesis, I couldn’t help but think about the hyper-kinetic and rave-like horror-comedy that was Fried Barry (now on Shudder). Imagine Starman mixed with the “Smack My Bitch Up” music video, and you’d be close to that movie’s aesthetic and tempo. In hindsight, the two films have only a tenuous at best connection, that being the sudden involvement of extraterrestrial beings in the lives of tortured male souls. Where Fried Barry features an alien experiencing Earth through a dirtbag's eyes, the Epigenesis creature acts more as a djinn or id, granting deep and dark wishes for the man it has attached itself to, usually involving violent retribution. While vastly different, the two movies do share the commonality of humor in dark places, perhaps where humor is needed the most.

Tenuous in the streets, “where it counts” in the sheets.

Epigenesis is about a blackmail ring that’s operated by young hustler Shane, who primarily uses cruising and strategic street placement to entice and ultimately threaten his wealthy and prominent prey. His reasoning isn’t so much from a lack of employment options, but rather a too personal understanding of the dynamic between vulnerable gay youth and pickup predators. He’s flipped the script, so why not enjoy the monetary benefits of his anti-heroics?

Gifford Elliott anchors Epigenesis with his “oh snap!” comebacks and painfully annoyed expressions in the face of bodily aggression and cosmic possession. The stranger things get, the more wide-eyed he becomes, the more Gifford’s Shane would rather just be eating expensive Chinese food. Gifford makes this movie his own and gifts it to anyone who comes across the play button.

Truer to the idea of accentuating positives and hiding negatives almost more than any other film ever (Troma movies come close), the occasional technical hiccups in Epigenesis - from sound mixing to blurred focus - are somehow used to the advantage of the story. There’s always this feeling of someone or something watching from behind the bushes. Someone or something that is always adjusting to a given environment, and that is ready to pounce if given a push. Or an open opportunity. Focusing/refocusing sight, uncomfortable skin, off-kilter equilibrium, etc. If necessary, these effects can also represent Shane and his friends. Moreso than the creature, even.

There are burgeoning romances. There’s platonic love. There are denouements covered in alien goop. And there’s more than meets the eye to Epigenesis.

Aliens in the streets, entertainment when we meets. 4/5

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From Hang the Pale Bastard

Did you know that director Scout Tafoya, at least when in character during his film Hang the Pale Bastard, sounds and looks like fellow cine-maestro Quentin Tarantino? This is an interesting element that I’m curious to figure out. Certainly, I can’t imagine that Tafoya was performing his central role as the titular pale bastard with “basterd” in mind, or with the opening walk of Django Unchained at heart. But there’s something to this. I think.

In Hang the Pale Bastard, Scout is led by a tied-up rope through cold and snowy woods, walking on an unsteady terrain of branches and rocks, by a nameless man covered in ambiguity, to a soundtrack reminiscent but not exact or similar to that of Jim Jarmusch’s Dead Man. Meanwhile, there are others - men and women of equal mystery - who are determined to find these two. Bounty? Revenge? They have their reasons, and most will be revealed by the end of the trip.

And what a trip it is. An acid trip? There is a climax that by itself would earn that description, bloodying the screen with colors and gore and hypnosis of sorts, for what feels like many minutes. But is the film acid anywhere else? Is it punk anywhere else? Does it…rock? Yes, yes, and yes. Long takes of monologuing against stone-faced silent types, scenes where two characters talk to each other as if in wildly different conversations, perfectly serene locations found likely by serendipity, and a script written like a poker hand. I’m tripping right now just writing about it all.

Flickers of flames and thin rays of sunlight hit the lens ever so wonderfully from time to time, bringing about tears and triumph. Is Hang the Pale Bastard artificially well-composed or shot by discovery and good luck? Both perhaps, but in the other films of Tafoya’s that I’ve seen, everything filmed is a revelation of the moment, either right then and there or seconds prior. That kind of mind’s eye for what feels right for a given scene is rare.

Scout and Quentin. What of that? Is there something to that? Does this something make Hang the Pale Bastard different in some way? Better or worse? My interpretation of things can be odder than most, but when I see a filmmaker making squinty faces and talking fast like someone cool and caffeinated, like someone nicknamed “Mr. Brown,” I draw connections. Scout as captive as Tarantino in a modern western being pursued by his own actors. There’s something to this. I think. 4/5

Sincerely Yours in Moviegoing,

⚜️🍿