Lake Michigan Monster

What do SpongeBob Squarepants, the Czech master of optical film effects Karel Zeman and the Canadian experimental filmmaker Guy Maddin have in common? On their own, nothing at all. Surprisingly, however, it is their essence that comes together in the debut of American fantasist Ryland Brickson Cole Tews. His path to his first feature didn't lead through an enlightened producer, but through staying with relatives and making dog eyes at his mates. So he put together $7,000 and a small crew. The unimaginably imaginative result is all the more breathtaking.
The tale of a geeky sailor who sets out with his chaotic crew to wreak vengeance on the beast that robbed him of his father becomes, in Tews' hands, a Pollock-esque explosion of low-cost creativity. The needle of the narrative compass spins furiously between all the poles of phantasmagoria, and Tews, like the central sea wolf (whom he portrays himself), steers into the waters of rampant imagery with infectious madness. Visual ideas, screenwriting pirouettes, and both down-to-earth and sophisticated humor roll at a furious pace. And so the audience is treated to a spectacularly deranged, gimmicky, and unexpected odyssey that is as brilliantly original as it is drunkenly stupid.