The first horror film from the directors behind the Pet Sematary remake is a stunning, surreal tale of exploitation, possession, and celebrity.

“I will do whatever it takes for this role.”

2019 is turning out to be a year that’s already packed with bona fide horror classics. Stephen King adaptations have always been plentiful, but it’s only been during the past few years that they’ve shaken the curse that held back many great novels from turning into just as acclaimed movies. Pet Sematary is the latest example to break this trend and while a previous adaptation was attempted back in 1989, this latest update has retained the dread and bite of King’s classic novel. While King’s text is obviously crucial to the film’s success, in this case, what may be even more important are the film’s directors, Kevin Kölsch and Dennis Widmyer. Kölsch and Widmyer don’t have lengthy careers as directors, but with Pet Sematary looking to make them big names in horror, it only seems appropriate to revisit their impressive horror debut, 2014’s Starry Eyes.

Starry Eyes eloquently examines the dangers that lie in the loss of identity and self-confidence, but all through the focused lens of celebrity, entertainment, and the male gaze. This film is arguably even more relevant now than when it initially came out, as it predates the breaking of the #MeToo movement, but it effectively underlines the horrors of skewed gender roles in the entertainment industry. It’s worth pointing out that this area isn’t exactly fresh for the horror industry, as recent films like Black Swan, Neon Demon, Always Shine, Eat, and even David Lynch’s Mulholland Dr. all explore this to various degrees of disturbing effectiveness.

What makes Starry Eyes stand out amongst those other pictures is that it wraps the idea of female exploitation, fame, paranoia, and the selling of one’s soul into grotesque body horror. Starry Eyes is Kölsch and Widmyer’s first feature-length foray into the horror genre and not only does it tackle an extremely mature topic, but it goes about it in a genuinely terrifying and creative way. It’s exactly the kind of movie that you want to see from new filmmakers.

Sarah Walker (Alex Essoe) is a struggling actress who’s stuck with a non-existent career and needs to work at an objectifying restaurant day job to make ends meet. The film opens on shots of Sarah scrutinizing her body in front of a mirror and she’s practically in tears over what she sees. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with Sarah, but she feels like a monster because of the roles that she’s not getting. She holds herself to Hollywood’s perception of beauty and that’s the overwhelmingly dominant view in Starry Eyes. Sarah literally has a collage of pin-up girl celebrities on her wall that she looks at for confidence. Sarah suffers from a series of social anxieties and tics such as pulling out her hair. Sarah’s superficial friends also don’t take her at face value and aren’t much of a support system, which makes her more isolated than she realizes. When Sarah finally gets a promising audition for Astraeus Pictures’ “The Silver Scream,” she feels like maybe her life may finally turn around.

What’s significant about Sarah’s audition is that initially, it’s a total failure. Her manufactured take on this character leaves the casting room empty and it’s not until Sarah suffers a breakdown afterwards that she’s given another chance to put her real self on display. Astraeus Pictures is interested in the destruction of beauty and doesn’t want Sarah to act or exhibit confidence, but rather to put herself out there as a vulnerable, unsatisfied individual who will hand over her life to them. That’s the level of dedication that this craft requires. It’s how you go from a face in the crowd into something special and Sarah is desperate to stand out. The enigmatic producer for “The Silver Scream” describes ambition as “the blackest of human desires” and says that most people don’t have the drive to act on it. Suddenly, after complete sacrifice, Astraeus Pictures sees Sarah as their big rising star and the way that they mold her into Hollywood’s hottest celebrity is a slow ride into Hell.

Widmyer and Kölsch pull off a number of effective nightmares throughout the film that show off their proficient eyes as directors. In one startling nightmare sequence, Sarah struggles to read her lines at an audition. As Sarah becomes increasingly rattled, Widmyer and Kölsch stylistically depict her script to contain a bunch of jumbled letters or sometimes nothing at all. Sarah frequently returns to her script for support, but each time it’s unhelpful in a different way. It’s a smart way to visualize the feeling of a panic attack. Sure, there’s dripping blood in the scene, but the broken script is what really stands out here.

Additionally, the directors also get the most out of Sarah’s following audition for Astraeus. Strobe lights rhythmically throw both Sarah and the audience off balance as this predatory moment morphs into one of empowerment. It transforms back and forth between a dream and a nightmare and Kölsch and Widmyer sneak in shots of Sarah in peril to hint at what’s to come. She undergoes a transformation of character in that scene, but the feral-like filmmaking conveys the much greater transformation that is also at hand. From that point on Sarah carries herself in a completely different manner and her meek vibes disappear.

It’s worth noting that this second audition scene is allegedly based on a story that an actress told to Widmyer and Kölsch about an audition that they had with David Lynch, which adds eerie relevance to Betty’s uncomfortable audition scene during Mulholland Dr. What this speaks to is the fact that there are countless areas where there are skewed power dynamics and that this film pulls from a real place, even if the results are exaggerated in a Kafka-esque way. In real life, manipulated and abused actresses aren’t going to turn into grotesque monsters, but they may still feel like they are one. Even in situations independent of Sarah, she’s told by friends that jobs were disappointing because the directors were “total pervs.” Any time a male attempts to make time with Sarah under the guise of acting work it comes with a sinister lining that the dates actually happening for ulterior purposes. This mindset is unavoidable for Sarah.

Astraeus’ possession of Sarah for their occult purposes is an invasion that’s much more drastic than something that’s simply sexual in nature, but the film repeatedly depicts Sarah in positions and framing that rob her of power and make her a victim. She’s broken down to the point that she begins to seriously question her values and regret the fact that she doesn’t sell herself out. Sarah hits a true turning point here where she’s essentially given the opportunity to carry out her dreams, yet on a smaller scale with her friends, but she realizes that it’s not enough without the fame that goes along with it. It’s not about the acting, but rather the rush of universal adoration.

As Sarah finally submits and accepts her role as Astraeus’ poster child, the film lets more occult activity leak out and the cinematography turns more unpredictable and chaotic. Much like how Starry Eyes is a unique take on gender roles and the price of fame, it also provides a different spin on occult narratives as these Satanists become the Illuminati-like individuals that control Hollywood. This may seem ridiculous at face value, but Widmyer and Kölsch make Astraeus’ goal seem as important and plausible as any other Satanic scheme from a horror film. What makes the occult so disturbing is their level of devotion and that never wavers here, which makes this force that Sarah is up against feel practically invincible. Sarah is told that “this industry is a plague,” yet she’s desperate to be infected.

The first act of the film features smaller doses of horror, albeit still unnerving ones, but it’s once things start to go off the rails with Sarah’s possession and transformation that the film truly comes alive. The fog that takes over Sarah washes over her whole life and everything takes on a blurred quality to it. Starry Eyes really makes Sarah look gross in a way that’s difficult to watch and elicits groans. It’s like she’s some rotting corpse. The apex of her possession when she’s losing teeth, hair, and vomiting up larvae is enough to even make David Cronenberg blush. If you’re a fan of body horror, you’ll adore this film’s take on the sub-genre. This is all a metaphor for the pains and struggles to succeed and be famous. The fact that Widmyer and Kölsch can achieve so much here and generate such fear with a shoestring budget bodes incredibly well for what they can get done with a legitimate budget from major studios.

The duo consistently finds interesting vantage points to show this horror. Moments like Sarah’s “fit” in the bathroom after her first audition are memorable for Essoe’s performance, but they have even more impact due to how Kölsch and Widmyer bring them to life. POV shots have Sarah’s hair loom over the camera like a hazy veil and make this abuse feel even more personal. Similarly, Sarah’s final ascension is filmed like an overexposed fairytale that makes something twisted look utterly divine. The final scenes of the film are chilling in how they mix beauty with horror and don’t spoon feed the audience with answers. The questions that are raised about what’s to come next add even more to the story and the film’s restraint here goes far.

Another major reason that Starry Eyes is a triumph is due to Alex Essoe, who completely crushes it in the surprisingly complex role of Sarah. Her character goes through a deep range of emotions and phases and Alex rises to the occasion every time. This is the kind of film that also hinges on its main performance and with a lesser actress Starry Eyes could be a disaster. Essoe’s able to flip between excited to horrified to exalted at a moment’s notice. Jonathan Snipes’ synth-like soundtrack also really fits with the film and it knows how to properly punctuate disturbing moments or when it works better to scale the music back. It’s yet another element that contributes to this surreal mosaic that comes together.

Starry Eyes doesn’t shoot for the moon with its length and clocks in at a lean 95 minutes. Accordingly, the film doesn’t really waste any time and Sarah is in Astraeus’ clutches sooner rather than later in order to draw out her transformation as much as possible to properly depict Sarah’s gradual decline. At the same time, even with such a concise runtime, the film knows how to properly build Sarah’s character and make you care about her before everything starts to go south and get all murder-y. On that note, while the body horror in Starry Eyes is the big selling point, the murder spree that goes down in the final act looks accomplished, frightening, and doesn’t shy away from the carnage. There’s an instance where a head gets demolished that’s just absolutely gruesome.

Although it came out a few years after Starry Eyes’ release, the impact of the movie got the directors a gig on the anthology horror film, Holidays (curiously, the two were also tapped to helm a sequel to Andy Muschietti’s Mama at one point). Their work on this anthology effort also shows off some brief glimpses of the writers/directors’ voice and tastes. Kölsch and Widmyer write and direct the film’s opening segment, “Valentine’s Day,” which sees a neglected outsider of a high school student fall for the school’s empathetic coach after he exhibits some natural kindness towards her. The girl blows this kindness out of proportion and the pent up trauma from all of the bullying that she endures channels itself through a twisted display of devotion and romance. The protagonist here shares more than a little in common with Starry Eyes’ Sarah. It’s a story that boils down to gender constructs and the conventional expectations of beauty that society pushes on everyone, especially girls, and the lengths that they’ll go to in order to feel accepted and beautiful.

Another segment in the film, “New Year’s Eve,” is written by Kölsch and Widmyer (but directed by Adam Egypt Mortimer), that presents a twist on the “black widow/preying mantis” trope and the typical dynamics present in a first date. It wrestles with the same themes that are present in “Valentine’s Day,” but they come fully into bloom with Starry Eyes. It’s likely that these emotions resonate so strongly because Widmyer and Kölsch have spoken about how they relate to these themes of feeling like an outcast and going against the grain of society, but in response to their filmmaking and their inability to penetrate the mainstream industry. It’s all too ironic now that these two have now directed one of the biggest horror films of the year and will likely have many options and opportunities ahead of them now. Just hopefully it won’t come at the expense of Kölsch or Widmyer transforming into monsters as their bargains with dark forces get cashed in.

As far as raw horror films are concerned, there’s a lot to love in Starry Eyes, but it’s just as fascinating to watch in terms of Dennis Widmyer and Kevin Kölsch’s burgeoning talents as horror storytellers. Much of the duo’s style gets developed in Starry Eyes and with Pet Sematary now pushing a much more polished brand of horror from these two, there’s no better time to check out their roots in the genre.