Perfect fare for a dog-day afternoon: a micro-budget American indie awash in testosterone and dread. Evan Glodell's Bellflower is a symphony of bad vibes, a love-hate story in which two buddies prepare to rule the postapocalyptic wasteland—but can't do much about a free-spirited girl. The film was a hit at Sundance, probably because it functions like an Alien face-hugger: It grabs hold of you, gets in your bloodstream, and gestates. The cruddy cityscape, the dead insects on the lens: Is it too much? Yes, but too much of a bad thing is Glodell's worldview.
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