At this fraught moment in our culture, it comes as a small surprise that a movie called “Drag” is not about the terrors of “gender ideology,” nor the apparent threat to Western civilization of people dressing up in garb generally associated with the opposite sex. Instead, writer-directors Raviv Ullman and Greg Yagolnitzer’s debut feature draws its title from the simple action of pulling a dead-weight object along the ground or floor. That item happens to be a woman — and she isn’t even one of the victims (at least yet) of a serial killer figuring significantly in the plot. Grievous bodily harm, nonconsensual drugging, murder, yes…still, thank god there’s nothing unwholesome here, like say a man in a dress.
Actually, there is quite a bit of John Stamos in underwear. But his character’s heterosexual bona fides are a given, however eccentrically those desires may manifest themselves. Nonetheless, “Drag” is mostly a sister act, with Lizzy Caplan and Lucy DeVito as quarrelsome siblings who find themselves in ever-deepening trouble during a house robbery gone wrong. It’s a narrow, somewhat one-note, crisis-driven premise that might’ve worked just as well as a short. To the filmmakers’ credit, though, tension and edgy humor are sustained for nearly 90 minutes of caustic entertainment. Their enthusiastically nasty little bon-bon is likely to go over well as an opening-weekend premiere in SXSW’s Midnighter selection.
Sparring with the familiarity of lifelong familial conflict, the two protagonists do not enjoy the benefit of being named — a final cast scroll designates Caplan simply as “Fuckup,” and DeVito as “Sister.” (Two remaining dramatic personae get the even more generic labels of “Man” and “Woman.”) The more ignobly categorized heroine is a ne’er-do-well who’s scraping by as a bartender, with various dubious side gigs and an even more dubious relationship history. Her sibling — a comparatively upstanding grownup with husband, daughter and restaurant business — has once again gotten reluctantly corralled into assistance, this time as driver/lookout while sis breaks into the home of “some guy who owes me money.”
That is a likely fib, as the long-suffering lady behind the wheel is all too aware. Things do go well enough for a couple minutes, as surprisingly this well-isolated rural house full of valuable-looking objets d’art does not have any evident security system. Once inside, however, the miscreant sister communicates (via walkie-talkie) in a squeal of wordless agony. Forced to investigate, DeVito finds Caplan immobilized in an upstairs jacuzzi bathtub. Against all odds, in reaching for some item to steal, she’s managed to fall and throw out her back.
This is but the first in a series of escalating misfortunes. Sis can hardly move. But she must be moved, before the owner’s expected return in a half hour or so. An unnoticed protrusion on the floor she’s dragged across renders her injury considerably worse, turning temporary acute discomfort into a real medical emergency. Such new problems delay exit until they can only hide from the sole occupant (Stamos), a successful painter of abstract female portraits. He is perilously close to discovering the intruders when the doorbell rings. Turns out he has a date this evening, a younger woman (Christine Ko) who’s an aspiring artist herself, met via a dating site.
Suffice it to say, this invited guest should be a lot more careful about accepting invites from strangers. By the time Responsible Sis reports “He’s roofied a girl or something!,” it has become clear that quite a number of women have entered this household — but possibly none have ever made it out alive. Our heroines must somehow rescue themselves as well as an oblivious third party, while keeping the host unaware of their presence.
It initially seems like a mistake to have the main protagonists so consistently at each other’s throats, one sick of being pulled into another’s messes, while the second resents her fed-up sister’s moral superiority. The co-directors’ script is eventful enough, however, to keep their squabbling more as comedic background noise than an irksome dominant element. Caplan effectively negotiates a gamut of punishing physical pains, played close to slapstick, while DeVito mingles exasperation and sympathy — we know she won’t abandon her sister, much as she might like to. Ko from the FX “Dave” sitcom is funny as a flirtatious guest so brashly overconfident, she stays unaware of her peril even in the most extreme circumstances.
Cast against type, Stamos has fun slyly underplaying a thoroughly depraved character. Though when he’s finally seen in full evil flight, the actor is arguably allowed to wax a little too cute about it. Speaking of which, the soundtrack also overdoses a bit on the calculated wackiness of vintage cuts by Bonzo Dog Band, the Monty Python-adjacent 1960s British novelty music act.
In contrast to those comedy elements, Patrick Stump’s original score takes a useful straight-suspense approach. Cinematographer Ben Goodman straddles the line between both with sharp lensing that places particular emphasis on overhead shots, underlining Caplan’s horizontal helplessness. Production designer Neil Patel has outfitted Chez Stamos with a lot of eye-catching decor detail, not least the paintings attributed to that malevolent “Man,” but in fact daubed by Yagolnitzer.
Some viewers may find “Drag’s” denouement a tad more cruel than strictly necessary. But this modest, resourceful exercise in gallows humor can’t be faulted for not sticking to its guns.
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