SATRANIC PANIC – Review by Alexandra Heller-Nicholas
Drag performer and trans goddess Aria is in mourning, grieving the brutal murder of her found brother Max with Max’s struggling boyfriend, artist and comic book store clerk Jay. Max suddenly disappeared from a bar on a night out, and in order to move on with their lives, Aria and Jay realize they must follow a mysterious lead which might hold the answer to the many questions they have surrounding Max’s death. Hitting the road, Aria’s ability to sense when demons are nearby proves invaluable as she and Jay find themselves caught up in a mystery where ancient devil worship collides head first with good old-fashioned transphobia, and learn that to solve the mystery of Max’s death means revealing the truth about his life, even if it means risking their own lives.
It’s no less than film number four for nineteen-year-old Australian filmmaker Alice Maio Mackay, already an established underground horror auteur whose first three features have seen her go from strength to strength; So Vam (2021) was picked up by international horror streaming service Shudder, Bad Girl Boogie (2022) was snatched by Dark Star Pictures for North American distro, and aside from leaving jaws dropped everywhere from Montreal’s Fantasia Fest to London’s Fright Fest, her most recent film T Blockers also earned her an emerging talent award at LA’s prestigious Outfest. Satranic Panic joins this already impressive filmography, a film just as audacious and just as joyful as her other features.
Subtext is a luxury Mackay clearly has little time for, and one of the most exciting things about her work is just how aggressively she seeks to make sure we don’t miss what it is that she is trying to say. As a transgender filmmaker herself, a world where queer people are under attack for simply being themselves is sadly far from abstract fantasy, and as such she makes films like her life depends on it – because, in no uncertain terms, in many ways it actually does. In Satranic Panic, like Mackay’s earlier movies, transphobia and homophobia kill, and there’s something extraordinarily powerful in how she weaves that hard truth into her vibrant supernatural horror scenarios.
It works, and does so largely because Mackay as a filmmaker brings so much fundamental joy to her movies. There’s an old school punk rock spirit here of finding joy in the bleak mess of it all, and perhaps nowhere else in her work is that joy more vivid than Satranic Panic – bright, eye-popping jewel colors explode on a screen further electrified by her meshing of the traditional horror film format with that of the musical. Mackay simply delights in Satranic Panic’s musical numbers – clearly as much as she does the more gruesome horror vignettes – and it is this sense of glee that render her films so effortlessly charming. A bright light in a dark world, Satranic Panic is another welcome addition to this astonishing young filmmaker’s growing oeuvre.
