Very little epitomises summer more than the sound of the familiar chimes of an ice cream van, making its presence known on a sweltering hot day. Horror has regularly been about taking something we know and recognise as part of our everyday lives and giving cause for it to scare the living hell out of us all; is the jingle of an ice cream truck the next thing to undergo the horror conversion from innocent symbol to terrifying fear? We’ll find out in Megan Freels Johnston‘s The Ice Cream Truck, as sweet treats and sugary snacks are traded for bloodshed and suburban violence.
Mary (Deanna Russo) has recently moved into the area – a suburban ‘paradise’, a seemingly rose-tinted world – where everyone is too nosy, eager and off-setting to begin with. As she awaits the arrival of the rest of her family to start their new life in the suburbs, she gets to know her neighbours. In the midst of a mid-life crisis, worsened when the attractive Max (John Redlinger) begins to show her more-than-friendly interest, the arrival of a mysterious ice cream van man may give her room for even more concern.
Trading sugary snacks for bloodshed and violence
Trying to piece together that synopsis highlights the first concern with The Ice Cream Truck: its multitude of tones and genres are so jarring and unfitting that it feels like we are contending with multiple short films, all competing rather than complementing. The narrative threads are only so very loosely connected (if they are at all), with the film lacking something to tie it all together; it feels like each thread, tone and genre is working against the others, rather than alongside it, resulting in a misguided picture that fails to coalesce as intended.
Now, within Johnston‘s script are some sharp ideas. We get a glimpse of this intriguing community dynamic and a biting social commentary but it is otherwise buried in an unfulfilling mid-life crisis melodrama. It’s far too cluttered, lacking something to ground and focus it. What does it want to be? I don’t think the film understands itself: it doesn’t quite figure out where to place emphasis or how to unburden itself from less interesting narratives. The whole thing threatens to tumble on a number of occasions, prevented from doing so only by its relatively short runtime and admittedly unique premise.
No complimenting flavours
Horror very often operates through caricatures and archetypes, light illustrations of a bigger idea or theme. While Mary is the most fleshed-out character, with her desperation palpable, it feels like her journey belongs in a different film altogether. Deanna Russo performs effectively: even when she becomes someone bordering on unlikeable, it feels authentic to her character’s situation. She is pushed to an uncomfortable extremes and Russo uses it as a demonstration of both her fragility and, later, her strength.
No one else really gets off the ground though. Emil Johnsen‘s attempt at the film’s bogeyman – known simply as The Ice Cream Man – borders on laughable rather than intimidating. Part of me believes that is by design – an unassuming man hiding a killer secret and desire – but he feels closer to a comedy character than a horror villain. Even as blood spills and people are murdered, you are never, ever scared or frightened of him.
A decision to over-play the characters could be a smart move to solidify this creepy new environment Mary calls home but it makes you feel cold here. Three overly-friendly, female neighbours provoke Stepford Wives vibes – but nothing else around them matches their exaggerative state or performances. It again highlights that nagging feeling that nothing here really seems to connect together.
Coming to the score, it is a sturdy collection of suitable tracks and sounds from Michael Boateng, but botched in its on-screen incorporation: when it matters the most, the music becomes so heavy-handed and overpowering that it drowns out almost everything else – including the violence and its impact. Boateng’s score, despite its merit, ultimately burdens and overthrows the picture completely, providing a real disservice.
Conclusion: The Ice Cream Truck
It is worth stressing though the The Ice Cream Truck is not without its successes. Megan Freels Johnston is rather promising as a director, providing a visual for the film as delightful as your usual truck’s treats. Enriched by Stephen Tringali‘s impressive cinematography, there’s a sheen to the colours and a sophistication to the camera’s movements and post-production editing, which does help deliver the intensity otherwise missing from the picture.
Johnston is not fazed by budgetary limitations and operates smartly and confidently with the resources she has; she’ll go even further when she is afforded more to play with. Her script showcases signs of a great idea but it does struggle in the execution, largely down to a tonal disconnection and its attempt to be too much at one time.
From the mid-life crisis drama to the slasher-horror film, the social satire to the erotic romance, The Ice Cream Truck is scattershot and uneven, with each new genre providing a disservice to the previous, complicating the film’s foundations and throwing the whole thing off-balance. The Ice Cream Truck supplies audiences with a handful of different, promising flavours – but when all served up in the same cluttered scoop, few of them feel appropriate or complimentary.
The Ice Cream Truck isn’t bursting with the treats a usual van possesses, but I’m sure you’ll find something to whet you appetite with – even though it’ll fail to tide your hunger over for long.
Are you excited for a scoop of The Ice Cream Truck? Or is it not to your taste?
The Ice Cream Truck is released in theaters and on VOD August 18.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lyMEw4PtMhUDoes content like this matter to you?
Become a Member and support film journalism. Unlock access to all of Film Inquiry`s great articles. Join a community of like-minded readers who are passionate about cinema - get access to our private members Network, give back to independent filmmakers, and more.