Entertainment
R-Rated, Punk Rock Horror Thriller Is As Violent As It Is Loud
By Robert Scucci
| Published
If you know anybody who’s in a struggling band, or are in one yourself, and you get one of those offers that seems way too good to be true, you should force yourself to be the voice of reason, even if everybody in your orbit will hate you for being so cynical. Opportunities that require you to sign over your rights to your own intellectual property in a 365 deal are never what they’re cracked up to be, and you’ll spend the rest of your life trying to reclaim your art through expensive legal proceedings. Or, if you’re like the struggling punk band Suicide Disease in 2024’s Director’s Cut, you load up the van and drive out to the middle of nowhere because an eccentric videographer has offered to direct your debut music video for free.
In this case, you don’t really have to worry about copyright issues when all is said and done, because all signs suggest you won’t make it through the weekend alive anyway. As much as you’d like to get a cut-rate deal on an otherwise expensive endeavor, you have to think about what the offering party stands to gain from the exchange. You may not want to hear this, but sometimes a contract or written agreement is necessary if you want to protect your livelihood, and sometimes even your life.
A Punk Band With Nothing To Lose
Director’s Cut opens with a struggle that any somewhat serious musician will encounter at some point in their hobby or career. The band Suicide Disease has found their passion project in a state of flux, mostly due to lead vocalist Jay’s (Tyler Ivey) rotten attitude. Jay looks like the kind of guy who writes poems about pain in his Moleskine, but doesn’t have the vocabulary to sound like anything other than an angsty eighth grader. He also looks like he’s spent way more money on tattoos than vocal lessons.
When the rest of the band, John (Greg Poppa), Menace (Brandy Ochoa), and Juan (Louis Rocky Bacigalupo), confront him about the fate of the project, they immediately clash over how they should move forward. Jay wants to write more songs, while the band wants to play more shows. They can’t get better gigs until they have a larger catalog, but they’re too broke to take the current show on the road. That leaves them stuck in local band purgatory for the foreseeable future.
In a desperate move to keep the band together, Jay reveals that he’s received an offer to shoot a music video for free. The man making the offer, known only as Mister Director (Louis Lombardi), has a sizable social media following and a body of past work that suggests he might actually be legit. In a last-ditch effort to keep the band alive, they unanimously decide to haul their gear out to rural Pennsylvania, where Mister Director claims to have access to an abandoned mansion.
Honestly, There Are Way Worse Venues Out There
If you’ve ever spent any time inside a punk venue, you know you risk your life every time you step into the bathroom, and that the stage meant for five people and all of their equipment usually has the same footprint as a twin-sized bed. With that in mind, crashing at an empty mansion doesn’t seem like a bad gig, especially if somebody’s helping you out for free. This assumption is what pushes Director’s Cut into fully unhinged territory.
Almost immediately, Jay feels like something is off and has second thoughts about the whole project, which understandably irritates everyone else in the band since this was his idea in the first place. After exchanging pleasantries with Mister Director and his bruiser of an enforcer, Babs (Lucy Hart), the band commits to the shoot because they truly have nothing left to lose. At least that’s what they think.
Things take a hard left when Mister Director explains that he plans to film each band member individually before editing everything together in post-production. While each member waits their turn, nobody else is allowed on set. By the time the drums and guitars are supposedly finished, it becomes painfully clear that Suicide Disease is going to need some lineup changes if anyone is still breathing by the end of the weekend.
Pushing itself firmly into slasher territory, Director’s Cut gets violent fast, and once it does, there’s no turning back. Mister Director technically has a strong aesthetic vision for the video. Unfortunately for the band, that vision involves everyone staying at the mansion getting murdered in increasingly brutal fashion. Babs is a constant threat whether she’s on screen or lurking just outside the frame. Mister Director is wheelchair bound, so she handles most of the physical work, but the menacing bulge in her pants is what will probably unsettle you the most if I’m being honest.
Be Wary Of The Deals You Make
While Director’s Cut’s storyline is intentionally ridiculous and completely over the top, writer-director Don Capria based the concept on his own experience working as an artist manager for years. He wanted to address the risks young, naive artists take early in their careers when they’re presented with one-sided, exploitative deals. By pushing that idea to its most extreme conclusion, Capria turns Director’s Cut into a cautionary tale about the music industry and how easily it can chew you up if you’re careless about who you trust.
While it’s highly unlikely that you or any local band you know will be lured into a mansion and murdered by a psychotic director, it’s always in your best interest to question any deal that feels off. But if you’re able to hold your own and defend yourself, what happens in Director’s Cut, currently streaming for free on Tubi, isn’t nearly as bad as sitting through a local band showcase on a Tuesday night.