Vulcanizadora, the latest Potrykus-Burge collaboration is everything you’d expect from Joel Potrykus: darkly comic, phenomenologically sticky, deeply sad, possibly hopeful? This time, Potrykus finds himself in front of the camera as Derek, a failed father masking his deficiencies behind a goofball demeanour. Joining Derek on a seemingly innocent camping trip is Marty (Joshua Burge), an arsonist liminally waiting for sentencing. Yet, as the boys get progressively closer to their end point, the sinister intentions behind this trip becomes starkly clearer.

When watching Vulcanizadora it’s tempting to think about what the definition of hell is. The film provides a surface level answer in the form of literal dialogue. Yet, the film also provides a subtle answer: hell is an inability to communicate with those around you, and losing the one person who does, kind of, maybe, understand you. Many try to do descents into madness; few succeed as well as Potrykus does here. I heard nary a peep out of my audience throughout the film’s terse third act, a stark departure from the film’s first act where people were rolling in the aisles. Deservedly so, the film is truly funny; however, the true testament to Vulcanizadora’s success is just how painful the final act feels. And human. Deeply human.

Largely, the pain comes from the film’s two performances. At this point, Burge and Potrykus must be almost telepathically linked, and thus, the odd-couple buddy comedy trappings are a still a delight. So too is the film’s cinematography, gorgeously captured in nostalgic 16mm. The film rewards close viewing, largely found in an understanding of the film’s deeper themes. They probably never made them like Vulcanizadora; I wish they would make more of them like Vulcanizadora now.