Stop me if you've heard this one before. A whiskey magnate, his buffoon sons, and his ailing daughter accidentally release a drunk "Ice Mummy" that shoots lasers from a liquor cask found in a centuries-old shipwreck. That’s only a sample of Jesse Thomas Cook's The Hyperborean, an independent Canadian horror-comedy that imagines what might happen if a rubbery Syfy Originals creature interrupted Knives Out. Writer Tony Burgess lays the foundation for an out-of-this-world examination of a dysfunctional family, and much like his script for the beloved language-as-a-virus horror film Pontypool, The Hyperborean resists easy classification (for better and worse). What do cowboy restaurateurs, butlers who are into cupping, and severed legs have to do with alien trespassers? You may never fully comprehend, but that doesn't sink Cook's barrel-aged character study.
Burgess' screenplay teaches us a Canadian history lesson about the HMS Investigator, a merchant ship-turned-rescue vessel sent in search of Captain John Franklin's failed 1840s Arctic expedition. A brief, attractively illustrated vignette tells of stranded sailors trapped by icy conditions, a fantasy realm called Hyperborea, and crewman John Boyle, who becomes possessed by an aurora vortex from the sky. You might be thinking, "What does any of this have to do with whiskey?," which is fair! The answer: wealthy distiller Hollis Cameron (played by Burgess) has discovered barrels of 170-year-old whiskey aboard the sunken HMS Investigator that he plans to distribute as a limited-edition spirit. To celebrate, Hollis organizes a private "release party" for his closest loved ones that goes legendarily awry. It's all very gonzo from the get-go, which echoes Burgess and Cook's previous collaborations.
The story unfolds as a series of flashbacks based on the recollections of Hollis' children and their surviving partners. The family's appointed lawyers, Mr. da Silva (Steve Kasan) and Ms. Ladouceur (Marcia Alderson), along with Hollis' unflappable crisis manager Mr. Denbok (Justin Bott), interrogate the eccentric lot in hopes of averting a massive public relations debacle. What transpires is an absurd back-and-forth as scenes jump from a conference table to replays of the night in question – first telling, then showing the unbelievable story of what went down at Hollis’ vacation home. It's a cheeky showdown as Mr. Denbok chews through lies and scoffs at truths from another universe, pitting spoken words against what's shown as the bumbling Camerons trying to reckon with the dismal outcome of Hollis' hoped-for whiskey jackpot.
Don't expect a Clue formula rife with accusations and red herrings. The Hyperborean isn't a suspenseful whodunit: Hollis' daughter Diana, an NFT artist with a spinal fluid disease, reveals quite early that her father perished when he was "sucked into the sky" and "popped." Mr. da Silva and Ms. Ladouceur are understandably humorously frustrated with this type of testimony, while Mr. Denbok encourages the family to get intergalactic with their explanations. Cook manages the jumpy timeline with a steady hand, answering Mr. Denbok's incredulous curiosity with video clips that confirm Diana's story, and editor Mike Gallant always finds the right moment to flip from present to past.
There’s an underlying quirkiness to The Hyperborean that recalls Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job! or Los Espookys. The Camerons are a collection of overblown, random character traits: Hollis' son Rex (Ry Barrett), is a bust in the culinary world who wears flannel and a belt buckle the size of Texas. You wonder how Rex or his smarter-than-her-hashtags influencer wife (played by Jessica Vano) fit into the family, even sticking out like the sorest of thumbs next to his pretentious, vape-puffing hipster-doofus brother Aldous (Jonathan Craig). Together, alongside the far more elegant Diana and their off-brand Don Johnson papa Hollis, the family looks like a group of adult-age trick-or-treaters – but they have chemistry for days. Their differences pull them together as their night turns from whiskey toasts to cockamamy strategies to defeat what they dub an "Ice Mummy" – and they manage to find some tender moments amid the chaos, too. It's heartwarming in an unexpected, Psycho Goreman sort of way.
The Hyperborean is a comedy first, and its small budget means there's only one reanimated corpse on the premises. Co-star Craig doubled as part of the special effects team that designed the "Ice Mummy," a magical body smuggled off the HMS Investigator inside one of Hollis' prized casks. The shambling figure's waterlogged features appear plastered on, its mouth frozen agape, and Cook offsets the undeniably cheaper qualities of its pickled exterior with darkened midnight landscapes. The frickin' laser beams it spews would barely impress Dr. Evil, but if I’m being honest, the B-grade effects tag along nicely with the B-movie appeal of Burgess' absurd family reunion. What happens that night makes about as much sense as Aldous’ mismatching fashion style, but Cook's cast stays captivatingly grounded as their sense of reality crumbles into a hodgepodge of bursting red lights and sippable embalming fluids.
I can't tell if The Hyperborean ever pulls together as Cook and Burgess intend, but it's a delightful genre mashup nonetheless – as long as you're into spunky indie gumption. There are times when The Hyperborean feels like improv buddies having a blast in someone's backyard, so be warned. Not everyone will stomach the film's lo-fi effervescence, nor find humble charms in the do-it-yourself nature of this boozy and goofy small-time wonder. It's the type of high-concept, minimal-means filmmaking we’ve come to expect from the director of the faux-pay-per-view graveyard smash Monster Brawl and the nauseating mutant flick Septic Man. As long as you're able to sync with the film's wavelength and not get lost in all of its plot twists, you're in for a surprisingly comforting, way-out-of-the-ordinary take on family values.
