‘Booger’ Review: Horror Film Coughs up a Purrfectly Unexpected Exploration of Grief | Fantasia 2023:

This piece was written during the 2023 WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes. Without the labor of the writers and actors currently on strike, the film being covered here wouldn’t exist.
Film festivals like Sundance and TIFF may curate lists of Academy Award-winning hopefuls, but Fantasia has always delivered a slate of films that leave indelible marks on their audiences. It premieres the kinds of films that—no matter how genre-bending or bewildering they are—linger like the scent of smoke in a bar or the cat fur that clings to couch cushions long after the cat is gone. Films should be transformative in the way they explore human emotions. They should take these mundane feelings that plague all of us and twist them into something that makes you question your relationship with yourself. Booger is one of those films.

Grief is a familiar emotion, both on and off the screen, and with her feature debut, Mary Dauterman views grief through the lens of body horror. Body horror is the perfect genre to use to explore how grief—when ignored—can transform the body and eat away at the human soul. Horror is, perhaps, the best genre to unpack emotions like grief, because it naturally allows those imperfect, disgusting, and grotesque feelings to feel normalized. It is much safer to reckon with our own connection to grief as we watch someone slowly spiral out of control and transform into a cat than it is to watch it stripped bare in the light of day like an Arthur Miller play.

Booger is as gutsy (and not just because there is a lot of retching) as it is safe; always just toeing the line of what’s expected. And that, in its own right, feels right for the film. Grief may be an emotion that we all experience at different points throughout our life, but we all cope differently, and grief manifests in its own unique ways. In fact, the discord between how people grieve after a tragedy is a point of contention for Anna (Grace Glowicki) and Max (Garrick Bernard) as they reckon with Izzy’s (Sofia Dobrushin) death.

Dauterman’s script carefully eases audiences into this weird and unsettling story about grief. It feels quite lighthearted at first. Through the vertical lens of digital retrospection, we learn about the day the cat distribution system gifted Booger to Anna and Izzy. But the innocuous memories slowly give way to something far more hair-raising when the present day reveals Izzy’s absence in Anna’s life.

Absence is a curious word to use to describe the loss of Izzy because it seems like everyone around Anna—even strangers—feels her loss more profoundly than she allows herself to. Instead of grappling with the death of her roommate and friend, she fixates on Booger’s sudden absence. Booger was Izzy’s cat, and when he slips out the window, Anna focuses all of her energy on finding him. His disappearance is further compounded by a festering wound he left on Anna’s hand while lashing out at her. This incident casts a long shadow over other elements of the film, particularly by finding neat parallels with the festering wound that Izzy’s death has left in Anna. Rather than treat the wound, she focuses on something unattainable, to her own detriment. It’s a fascinating way to visualize grief, and when paired with the larger-than-life body horror, it makes for a very compelling film.

Glowicki is an exceptional lead as she navigates through a sort of odyssey into the unknown depths of grief. She holds nothing back, leaning into the absurdity of coughing up hairballs and slurping gelatinous goo off of cat food cans. The delightfully dark humor is never too on the nose—and while some of the success is owed to the script, the credit truly belongs to Glowicki for making it work. The transformation in her physicality as the film progresses is very fascinating to watch. You can see it in the subtle flicker of her eyes, the way her balance shifts as she walks, and the way she portrays the sort of predatory innocence that house cats possess. It’s very much like a masterclass of what Maria Ouspenskaya pioneered with animal work.

You can feel the feminine—and feline—touch that Dauterman brings to this script, and it’s a feeling that resonates throughout the film. Oftentimes, stories that use transformations as the physical embodiment of some sort of emotional ailment will lean into the harsh masculinity of it. Bones will break, spines will twist, and horrifying canine maws will break through the civilized teeth of men. It’s brutal, in the way that masculinity is vicious and destructive. Anna’s transformation, though grizzly in its own unique way, is more like the festering wound on her hand. She senses the shift, the loss of time, and abnormal behavior, but even as she destroys elements of her life—she’s hurting herself, not others. When she does strike out and draw blood, her acts of violence come back to maim her. Booger may be stomach-churning when it comes to hairballs, but it certainly coughs up enough introspective curiosity to make the nausea worthwhile.

At times, Booger can feel as messy as grief itself as it meanders through the darkness. As Anna spirals out of control, Dauterman utilizes a variety of different visual styles to evoke certain emotions—some of which are executed better than others. The script is very evenhanded in the way it pokes at what grief looks like for different members of its cast of characters, though Anna’s grief doesn’t feel as realized as it could. Her final transformation is underwhelming and hardly earned, though, from a certain point of view, perhaps that is the point. Grief arrives as suddenly as it departs, and if accepting its existence is most of the battle, perhaps the abrupt finality of it is exactly as intended. We shed the layers of grief in waves, only to be left with loss.

Dauterman’s feature debut is a must-watch for horror connoisseurs who prefer horror films that make them think, despite how unsettling that sort of introspection might be. Booger is a bold and refreshing journey into grief and the damaging effects of holding it in when it desperately wants to claw its way out.

Grade: B+

THE BIG PICTURE

Booger is a transformative film that explores grief through the lens of body horror, allowing imperfect and disgusting emotions to feel normalized.

The film portrays grief in its own unique ways, showcasing the discord between how people grieve after a tragedy.

“Booger” is a bold and refreshing journey into grief, featuring exceptional lead performance by Glowicki and a feminine touch that resonates throughout.

Booger had its world premiere at the Fantasia Film Festival 2023.

View this article at Collider.