The Curse of Downers Grove

A teen-oriented thriller for whom the word “bewildering” fits hand-in-glove, The Curse of Downers Grove is one of those movies that holds your attention for most of its length if only because a thoughtful viewer (that’s me?) is so busy trying to figure out if it’s complete and utter nonsense, or if something slightly deeper and more ambitious is going on. Co-written by Bret Easton Ellis (yep) and director Derick Martini, this drama represents an unusual type of big screen failure, vacillating wildly as it does between earnestness and goosing spookitude, never committing to the sort of referential nature or full-tilt insanity of could-be progenitors like Scream, Urban Legends or All the Boys Love Mandy Lane.
Based on the 1999 novel Downers Grove by Michael Hornburg, the film unfolds in a small Illinois suburb of the same name, where for nine years running a teenager has died—via a variety of circumstances, some mundane, some mysterious—just before senior graduation. When their mother (Helen Slater) leaves for an out-of-town trip with her new boyfriend, Chrissie (Bella Heathcote) and her younger, 15-year-old brother Dave (Martin Spanjers) hunker down to avoid the curse and most definitely not throw a party at their house.
Chrissie is the town skeptic, and early on there’s something a bit extra, and pleasantly punchy, in her dialogue; she’s the well-adjusted, self-aware teenager who’s kind of “over” high school and ready to move on with the next chapter of her life. Chrissie nurses a crush on local mechanic Bobby (Lucas Till), and maintains a friendship with Ian (Mark Young), the neighbor who seems keen on reminding her that they’ve known each other since kindergarten. But when her best friend Tracy (Penelope Mitchell) convinces her to go to a party on the other side of town, Chrissie is almost raped by Chuck (Kevin Zegers, effectively loathsome), a local community college star quarterback and the son of a retired police officer (Tom Arnold). From there, things get sufficiently weird, as Chuck takes exception to Chrissie’s eye-gouging escape and begins a campaign of harassment targeting Chrissie and her friends.
It’s pat, retrofitted criticism, sure, but it’s typically not a good sign when a movie misspells the name of the author of its source material in its end-credit “thank yous,” and that’s what happens with The Curse of Downers Grove. Martini has had an interesting career, co-writing and starring in the entirely enjoyable little independent comedy Smiling Fish & Goat on Fire, and helming the less successful divorce dramedy Lymelife. The Curse of Downers Grove, though, represents a more curious underachievement; Martini never feels particularly connected to the material, and so from early on the movie works like an exercise in arbitrariness.