Mope — A bottom feeder who “mopes” around a pornography studio hoping for his big break and often does bit parts in exchange for room and board and meager pay.
Mope, which recently screened at Sundance in the Midnight section, and is now screening at Cinepocalypse 2019, is the tragically true story about a murder that happened in 2010 at a San Fernando Valley porn company. Written and directed by Lucas Heyne, the film is a gut-wrenching story of mental illness and friendship that will reward those who can look past is more exploitative elements to find one of the most real films to tackle the porn industry and its trappings since Boogie Nights. I hadn’t read anything about the story or watched a trailer, and I suggest if you haven’t yet, please do the same and stop reading this review to get the full effect of this intense character piece that was very reminiscent of 2016’s Christine.
The film centers on Stephen Clancy Hill (Nathan Stewart-Jarrett), porn name Steve Driver, who meets and befriends fellow mope and porn fanboy Herbert Wong (Kelly Sry), porn name Tom Dong. The pair, who bill themselves as the Chris Tucker and Jackie Chan of porn, dream of making it big and end up living and working in a dingy warehouse that doubles for Ultima Studios, an outfit best known for their amateur fetish output. Here we clearly see a way for the two to make a small name for themselves, but Steve can’t stop sabotaging the pair with his schemes that are meant to catapult the pair into super stardom. Mope starts out as a buddy comedy about the porn industry, using its comedic charms to disarm the audience. Once lulled into a false sense of security, we see Steve begin to fall apart and spiral downward into mental illness, taking his friend with him.
The very matter of fact way Mope paints its protagonist, without vilifying him and instead humanizing his struggle, is not an easy thing to do when also tackling a story where a porn star goes on a rampage with a samurai sword. It’s something that is prime for exploitation, which is an element here, but Lucas Heyne is very careful to not to get lost in it. Also, when dealing with the porn industry Heyne is careful not to glamorize it, instead showing the good with the bad. In fact, even with those seedier elements present, we are treated to humiliation on both sides of the gender spectrum, while also re-enforcing the fact that sex work is indeed a real occupation and just that: actual work. It’s painted so matter-of-factly that it allows the audience to really center in on Steve and the warning signs that start to present themselves as his best friend uncovers his troubled past.
Mope left me shell shocked. Having no forewarning of what I was about to endure, I just wasn’t ready, and its finale isn’t played for shock value alone either. It’s an emotional atom bomb that hits the viewer as it deals out an uncomfortable and unforgiving final 20 minutes that left me devastated. I think walking in cold probably contributed to this, but I think it’s also the emotional performances and the sincere script that keeps the gravity of the situation in context and isn’t an easy feat when you could easily play this simply for transgressive laughs. Mope is not to be underestimated; it’s a cinematic gut punch that subverts expectations to deliver one of the most matter-of-fact depictions of the adult industry committed to screen.
