Out in the woods, a young bohemian (Ty Hickson) lives in a trailer and labors over what appears to be a bomb; having run out of his antipsychotic medication, he begins hearing voices and engaging in devil worship; and his only visitor, an old friend (Amari Cheatom), is being chased by some dudes over a drug deal gone bad. There are numerous causes for alarm, so why is this drama by underground hero Joel Potrykus (Buzzard) so painfully dull? Partly because the protagonist is a cipher—he plays with his cat, boogies around to a cassette of the Smoking Popes—and partly because the action functions less as a story than as a checklist of transgressions (eating cat food, killing a possum, self-extracting a tooth). The movie peaks at its midpoint with a chilling nocturnal encounter that blurs the line between hallucination and the genuinely supernatural; the rest of the movie pivots around it, but slowly.