As younger generations uproot the soul-sucking traditions of baby boomers in corporate America, young filmmakers will also translate the nightmares of advanced capitalism into horror films about labor exploitation. Movies like Breakup And The Belko experience are becoming more and more common – see my SXSW review of Grind– with good reason. Something like Aaron Fisher’s Corporate retirement punishes the divine selfishness of billionaire leaders who treat their employees like disposable pawns. It’s a modern assessment of the bullshit desk jockeys go through to earn a decent wage, but by quality standards, Corporate retirement it’s no Breakup…not by far.
Senior executives at Immaculate Pond Technologies gather for a company-mandated retreat. Billie (Kirby Johnson), who runs the human resources department, books them a getaway to “Paradise,” referring to the exclusive spa-like facility. Upon arrival, the “leaders” of each station meet Lola (Sasha Lane) and Amber (Zión Moreno), their “experience guides” for the duration. There’s a guided meditation, a steam room warm-up, but soon after, the retirees realize their team-building vacation is a farce. Instead, they are held hostage by the two guides and a specter from their past: Arthur Scott (Alan Ruck), the founder and former CEO of Immaculate Pond.
On paper, it’s a pretty fun concept. Fisher and co-writer Kerri Lee Romeo exploit the devious nature of boardroom politics while focusing on the maniacs at the top. Ruck plays on Arthur Scott’s unhinged behaviors as a villain who punishes his ousters by preaching this new path to enlightenment. Scott now acts like a cult leader, rambling about the “gateways” that will lead to transcendence in this ayahuasca-like haze of a puzzle plot. At its best, Corporate retirement is carried by Ruck as he embraces Scott’s delusion, whether it’s scolding his lackeys like a disappointed sitcom dad or relying on Scott’s unhinged leadership ideals, where physical damage earns you favor with the graces of a deity.
In execution, Corporate retirement seems confusing and unsatisfactory. It’s an incredibly mean-spirited film, but the narrative fails to make its point. There are seven gateways, each increasing the levels of violence required to graduate, but there is nihilism about who lives and dies and who is never properly paid. Fisher and Romeo attempts to balance bloody deaths with fresher bits of comedy; However, the humor never finds its footing, leaving it mostly to Lane and Moreno as their assault weapon-wielding villains joke about lost lives. It’s a deflating survival scenario that lacks build-up and feels too ridiculous; without the laughs that come with real B-movie cheese, everything seems awry.
Everyone plays into typical office space stereotypes, from Cliff (Elias Kacavas), the dim-witted, messy-haired general counsel, to Devin Hill (Benjamin Norris), the nervous, micromanaging new CEO. It’s a rigid character mapping, boiling down to ex-employees begging for their lives. Ashton Sanders CFO Carl Thomas is presented as a proud father with a child at home, but that beat is barely mined for emotional impact. Odeya Rush’s psychology student Ginger is a strange woman as Cliff’s girlfriend – tricked into being his plus-one – and the only one with a real arc to contend with (the stranger who can challenge Scott). Otherwise, performance highlights are as instant and you’ll miss Rosanna Arquette’s remote revenue manager.
Of course there’s some bloody goodness in there Corporate retirement. It actually has a pretty decent distribution of villainy effects. One catwalk involved a spoon and eye trauma that made me wince as close-ups of dummy heads sold nauseating bodily injuries. Other cases involve a lot of bloodshed, as those who fail Scott’s tests lose their minds in more than a figurative sense. I’m impressed by the deaths here, if only because the rest of the action is pretty boring. But that doesn’t take away from the fact that the real MVPs of Corporate retirement are the supervisors of Fisher effects. Everything exciting on screen is covered in red juices, probably driven by Lola, as the little lady pulls bodies through puddles of sticky crimson gunk.
Unfortunately, Fisher’s directorial vision is disappointing elsewhere. Every time Lola and/or Amber fire their automatic weapons, it’s like kindergarteners playing war in the backyard: pitiful muzzle flashes are added in post while the actresses awkwardly shake their prop guns to imitate recoil. Another sequence, in which Ellen Toland’s scientific genius Aubrey Johnson concocts a cure for botulism with household items, includes one of the most ridiculous and unrealistic needle injection sequences ever filmed — and doesn’t play it for hahas. Fisher is undoubtedly struggling with an independent budget throughout Corporate retirementbut that doesn’t excuse gratuitous aspects that could have been done well, like terribly lit fight sequences (almost entirely blacked out) or a supporting character who butchers a line so badly it makes Tommy Wiseau look Oscar-worthy.
If Corporate retirement started the film on a performance improvement plan, which was to be noted after the credits rolled, there would be a termination of the contract on the spot. It’s not campy or entertaining enough to be a good B-movie, but it’s also not punchy or searing enough to sell the film’s dark horrors. Alan Ruck is this year’s Jackie Earle Haley in You are a host– a wacky antagonist who deserves a tighter overall film. At best, Corporate retirement is passable, and at worst, it’s categorically bad. This is a downward trend that no analyst wants to read and which spells the end of this lethargic massacre of labor exploitation that cannot infiltrate the market.
Movie score: 2/5
