NOTE: Today is Thursday, January 9, 2025. I had planned to write this post at the end of the month, however, due to current events here in L.A., I found myself with a great deal of free time on my schedule. Time and a Mac with 47 percent battery life. No power, no internet, just a really good laptop and nothing better to do on day 2 of waiting for the city to restart and get back to work. My heart goes out to every resident who had no option but to evacuate in such short notice, to everyone whose home and life-long memories were destroyed so suddenly, but, specially, my heart goes out to each and every family who tragically lost loved ones in these horrific fires. To firefighters, aerial firefighters, first responders, and law enforcement, my outmost respect and admiration goes out to you. To top state and city officials whose incompetence and negligence allowed for this recurrent natural disaster to get out of control so barbarically, you are on your own.

Hello and a quick question: what does The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, House of 1000 Corpses, and Mother’s Day have in common? A dysfunctional family, yes, a reclusive family, yes, a violent family, yes, a cannibal family, yes, but not super always, a family who would defend itself when an uninvited guest intrudes on their domestic life, yesssssssa. These movies have all that in common plus the fact that their colorful characters—I am avoiding calling them white trash or hillbilly because I would never insult who I love—are my favorite. There is something so badass about a group of people who, for one reason or another, do not follow societal norms and choose to live by their own rules outside polite society. But do not get it wrong, that those broken rules are highly questionable is a totally different subject and all I am saying is that, for me, that rebellion against being perfect, heck, against being plain normal and average, is so intoxicating to me.

Enter Lowlifes (2024), a Tubi original Canadian horror movie deserving of a million five-star reviews and whose story showcases my favorite kind of family. The movie was done so well that even its trailer was put together nicely and did NOT reveal anything crucial; please, if you are interested, hit play and watch it now.

I have watched the movie three times and I am happy to say that with each passing view I pick up more little details which, goodness me, are like tiny little treasures left behind by the filmmakers as a reward for our honest interest in their work. The first time you watch Lowlifes you will be joyous, surprised, and amused (it is a total hoot, nothing but good times); the second time you will be a bit quiet, really paying attention to the dialogue and interactions (you will find yourself thinking, Damn, that was actually pretty smart, nicely done); by the third time you will be so relaxed as the movie is now familiar to you and you love the feeling it generates in your being (okay, maybe this last part only applies to me), and you will be sitting there laughing with gusto, saying back in unison your favorite lines, all while thanking your lucky stars that it only takes a movie like this to make you forget about the outside world and its many problems. Good. Life good.

SPOILERS START NOW

“Kids, am I right, they’re kinda the worst.” –Keith

“You are an addict AND a lesbian?” –Keith

“I’d rather eat PUSSY than people!” –Amy

“Yer cannibals?” –Savannah

“Awh! I love your accent!” –Keith

Innocent family crosses paths with a family of cannibalistic murderers. The cannibalistic murderers:

The Manning’s were a typical L.A. family from Calabasas—affluent, conservative, loving—who would go on a yearly road trip to hunt down and eat drifters. The daughter, Amy, was in college and getting too old for the family tradition, or “hobby” as she would derogatorily call it whenever intentionally trying to upset her dad, Keith. The mom, Kathleen, was nothing much but a shell of a woman, a follower, afraid to stand up for herself or anyone or anything, staying terribly busy with her pills. The son, Jeffrey, was the pride and joy of Keith because he, at only 16 years of age, displayed great interest and capability in the generations-long Manning tradition, so much so that Keith would reward him with a drifter’s tongue (Jeffrey’s favorite) for showing initiative, naturally, the gifting would get performed without Kathleen’s knowledge as it would be impolite expressing favoritism between children.

Their RV might have been a bit old, after all, it was passed down each generation. Grandpa Manning, dad Manning, daughter Manning. Amy knew her role as the first born and she did not want any of it; not the road trips, not the violence, not the killings, not the eating, even though the eyeballs were indeed her favorite. She wanted none of it. What Amy wanted was to be close to her girlfriend, or to any girl if we are being honest. And marijuana. A chill life without eating people, just lots of love and pot.

As the Manning’s were getting ready to continue their journey up north, a pair of colorful locals, Billy and Vern, stopped by the RV to ask about their missing relative, Melior, who had not showed up for skinning that morning and whose truck was found in a ditch miles away. Pardon me, I should have first mentioned that the happy Angeleno family had just finished eating their lunch, so, yeah, definitely no Melior.

Billy and Vern were your stereotypical scary-looking, low-status, uneducated, rural folks, and yes, because they were intimidating as hell, the Manning’s did not want to do anything with them and played dumb and nice to stay away from trouble. However, because we needed to have a movie, conflict started developing and yada, yada, yada, now the Manning’s had abandoned Vern and killed and chopped dear, sweet Billy, and were en route onto Billy’s house.

The Cleary’s were a God-fearing, hard-working, rough around the edges, all-American honest family of four: Billy, the big cousin, Juli Ann and Savannah, the baby cousins, and Pa Neville, the great uncle. They were considered as normal as anyone else around the area, solitary and weird, perhaps, but normal nonetheless.

Pa had a few health problems of his own, in spite of that, he was as sweet as apple pie and made sure “Billy’s” unexpected guests felt as welcome and comfortable as possible in his home (they were even invited to stay for supper and to spend the night in the spare room). Savannah was smart and sensitive, happy to take care of the home and the family (but still debating about going to Community College), she was also an accomplished archer and a pianist, and a lesbian (why Juli Ann was obsessed with revealing that last piece of personal information about her sister to strangers was beyond me). Juli Ann was training to be a hairdresser while pursuing a serious relationship with her boyfriend, Big Mac. Billy was in the venison meat business with Vern. See? Normal.

To me, the beauty of Lowlifes did not rely so much on the stereotyping of groups of people based on their socioeconomical status (rural/urban, blue-collar/white-collar) & on the severe contrast between them when forced to interact, but rather, on the stereotyping within those groups of people. The shock of it all was not, again, to me, the fact that the polite individuals of L.A. were the scary cannibals and the local folks were not. The real surprise was that the cannibal dad from L.A. was crazy enough to eat his own eye like it was nothing, and that the strong, independent local woman was sensitive enough to feel hurt whenever someone criticized her elaborate meal. One was an animal, the other was a delicate flower.

In the end, everyone died with the exception of Amy, the closeted lesbian from L.A., the one who wanted to leave her past behind, the one who rather ate pussy than people. So, let’s go forth, dear Amy, go live your best life without the shackles of the past, without the consequences of your actions. Please, go now.

As for me, I’m also gonna go, but to Tubi to watch the movie for a fourth time. Y’all should join me. GO ON, GIT!

In Love and Fear,

—Marath