‘Shithouse’ Review: Mumblecore Meets College In 23-Year-Old Filmmakers’ “Little Film That Could”
Cooper Raiff is currently living every film student's dream. During his sophomore year of college Raiff, his girlfriend, and a friend set out to make a movie for the first time. Raiff filmed on their campus with stolen equipment, uploaded the finished project on YouTube, and sent a link to Jay Duplass. Within 12 hours Duplass responded and began to advise Raiff on how to make the project bigger and better. After re-filming with a full cast, crew, and budget, Shithouse was born and won the top narrative prize at the 2020 SXSW Film Festival. That’s right, we officially have college mumblecore and it’s exactly what you think. If you like the sound of that, then you’ll probably like Shithouse. If you don’t, I promise you don’t want to give it a moment of your time.
Shithouse is an anti-ambitious project that showcases the lure of watching raw talent. The film’s flaws flash like a sharp stage light, yet doesn’t take away from the impressive first showing from Raiff and his incredible cast. Instead of getting caught up with excess, the viewer experiences an intimate moment with the filmmaker sharing the most vulnerable time of their life, warts and all. Shithouse is a semi-autobiographical work from Raiff’s own experience struggling with the transition into independence and the toll loneliness takes on the soul. Raiff’s current lens perfectly captures an authentic contemporary college scene and I imagine will be immensely relatable for any current or former college student in the age of social media.
Channeling experiences from his freshman year of college, Shithouse is based on Raiff’s own struggles with finding his place at school. Moving from Dallas to a California school, Raiff plays Alex, a charming yet awkward 18-year-old with a strong bond to family. Alex faces loneliness daily, too shy to join a club, or make friends. At the peak of his depressed state, Alex attempts to be social by going to a party with his alcoholic roommate (Logan Miller) at the notorious Shithouse. While the party doesn’t cure all of Alex’s woes, he meets Maggie (Dylan Gelula) and the two spend their night connecting in ways that Alex hasn’t had with anyone before.
Shithouse, like other mumblecore films, is less about narrative conventions designed to please audiences and more about the artists sharing their feelings through film. At times Shithouse feels more like a therapeutic session for Raiff rather than a piece of media made to be entertaining. It is entertaining, however. Watching a young artist open up, gives great insight into the work itself and the mindset of many others of his generation. Without leaning too much into a happy narrative mold or the opposite of nonstop complaining about life, Shithouse resides in the messy middle. Alex at times behaves rationally and at times makes you want to yell at your screen. It’s easy to get caught up in the picture-perfect norm of most young characters' portrayal in film or television, that you forget that young high school and college students aren’t that way at all. The characters in this film say really dumb, awkward, and regrettable things, but they say things that real college students do. It is refreshing to see Raiff portray himself in this flawed but honest life.
The structure of Shithouse is a double-edged sword that is rewarding in the first half and dulls in the second. The film’s fabula takes course over an entire college weekend, with the first hour focusing on one long night between Alex and Maggie. The scenes between the two are the film at its best. Never knowing what direction the film is going or how long their seemingly endless night will be, the audience gets the pleasure of watching Raiff and Gelula talk and open up. As they stroll through campus discussing their childhoods looking for a place to bury a dead turtle, Raiff is at his most vulnerable to the audience. As his character opens up, so does Raiff, and a cathartic effect is created for both the performer and the audience. Watching someone open themselves up and hash out the challenges in their life with a stranger, allows the audience to do the same. While most films serve as an escape, Shithouse makes you feel like you’re helping a friend out by listening to their very bad day.
The second half of the film however loses its serene feel and gets rushed along with awkward pacing and lackluster motives. Instead of Alex desperately trying to recapture the night he had, it would have been more enjoyable to see more of the night itself. There are moments of character growth in the latter end of the film, but the film tries to wrap its clunky nature in too fine a bow. The film begins to fall into the “get the girl” troupes even though it has its own spin on it. As strong and unique as the film’s first direction is, it's disappointing to watch it veer into a more predictable track.
As impressive of a showing, Raiff gives in writing and directing, acting is the weakest of his newly discovered talents. His style is natural and he shows flashes of promise, but his performance is hit or miss throughout the film. Raiff in his first major performance captures the film’s style well, but still misses the mark of quality expectations. This isn’t to say Raiff is bad in the film, as great as it is that he holds onto the authenticity, he just underperforms. It also doesn’t help that the women in the film do a fantastic job and show him up every scene. Gelula is stronger than ever and a perfect casting choice for Maggie. Amy Landecker who plays Alex’s Mom always shines in the phone calls back home.