Pottersville (2017)

dir. Seth Henrikson

Watching Pottersville is, quite frankly, a dizzying experience. The plot is utterly off the rails, beginning with the owner of a general store in idyllic Pottersville discovering his wife is a furry, part of a “furry sex club” along with the town sheriff and many other locals. As this wasn’t already bizarre enough, said store owner then drunkenly decides to run around town in a gorilla suit by way of response. Then, after he’s mistaken for Bigfoot, he (soberly) decides to just keep on doing it. For no discernible reason at all. The film tries to suggest it’s some warm-hearted attempt to “help the town” – how this is supposed to work is not remotely clear. Meanwhile a celebrity monster-hunter comes to town to hunt down Bigfoot, and mostly struts around shouting lazy one-liners over and over again in the worst Australian accent ever known to man. In fact, almost every single attempted joke in Pottersville is inexplicably repeated several times over, as though the makers believed insipid observations somehow get funnier if they’re said five or six times. All of this is made even more insane, even more alarming, by the calibre of the cast involved. Michael Shannon, Ian McShane, Christina Hendricks, Ron Perlman and Judy Greer must have all accrued some devastating gambling debts in 2017, because there is no other conceivable reason they’d willingly be involved in such a deranged mess as Pottersville.

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