In a digital age driven by social media, where influencers reign supreme, more and more films seek to explore the effect and consequences new technologies have on our society. Films like Unfriended, Tragedy Girls, or Searching, and shows like Black Mirror all examine how our daily interaction with technology irrevocably alters our behavior, often for the worse. The latest is Spree, an over-the-top, ambitious satire that tackles society’s unhealthy obsession with developing a social media presence.

After ten years of a relentless pursuit of social media fame, Kurt (Joe Keery), or @KurtsWorld96, thinks he’s finally come up with the plan that’s going to land him the high follower count of which he’s dreamed. Because he’s a rideshare driver for Spree, he’s concocted a strategy to go viral; he decks out his car with cameras to capture his day via nonstop live stream. Using #TheLesson, Kurt intends to murder all of his rideshare passengers for his followers to watch along in real-time. Except, he has no followers outside of an influencer he used to babysit. As he goes to more elaborate lengths to become famous, former rideshare passenger, comedienne Jessie Adams (Sasheer Zamata), becomes the only real obstacle in his path to success.

Director Eugene Kotlyarenko relays Kurt’s tale entirely through the lens of Kurt’s phone and GoPro cameras as if we’re watching his live stream directly. That means the screen is often littered with the reactionary comments from internet users tuning in, and popups from donations. It’s stylized, ambitious, and appropriate given the subject matter, but it can also be incredibly grating after a while.

Keery delivers a performance unlike we’ve seen before from him; Kurt is unflappably manic and tragically hollow. His entire self-worth is based on his social media presence. He despises the homeless because they have no internet presence at all but eschews racism and white male supremacy because he suspects that will earn him internet approval. He gives minor insight to his troubled home life, mostly fleshed out through fleeting interactions with his father (David Arquette), a wannabe club promoter with a drug problem.

At the opposite end is Zamata’s Jessie, a very successful influencer struggling with her internet fame and the ramifications of spending so much time online. She skewers racism in her stand-up bits, but at the end of the day, she’s just like Kurt in that they’re both pawns of the social game. Only at vastly different levels of accomplishment.

In other words, Spree is a brutal dissection of social climbing in the digital age. One that begins as an entertaining dark comedy that turns into a surprisingly bloody slasher before giving way to something far bleaker, and soul-crushing. That it winds down on such a somber, depressing note is likely Kotlyarenko’s entire point, but the tonal whiplash is jarring all the same.

Kurt’s bizarre persona and his laughably cringe-worthy ideas start as hilarious but eventually fall into a repetitive pattern as the body count rises. That means the entire middle section starts to drag, made even worse in that the whole roster of characters are shallow and mostly unlikable. Again, that’s the point, but it doesn’t make for an easier watch when we don’t care about anyone on screen. Keery fully commits and his natural affable charm carries the film only so far.

Ultimately, Spree feels like an extended episode of Black Mirror. One that begins as a delightful comedy full of gonzo energy that revels in the bloodshed, but stretches out too long. There are several entertaining moments of bloodshed, and the critique on how we interact online is aptly nightmarish. In the end, though, it doesn’t bring anything new to the conversation, and the superficiality of the characters makes it all feel a bit too empty.