Corporate Retreat Review

The fact that horror is the only genre left that reliably brings in a profit due to its ability to get by on tiny budgets (see: Obsession‘s second week increase on less than $1 million) means there’s just about always a new flick coming out, if you know where to look. The low stakes also means we see a ton of new faces, both in front of and behind the camera. What harm is there in giving some no-name’s fresh idea a shot, especially when there’s the chance that it will have a second life and gain a cult following on Shudder? Sometimes, this approach breeds a clever script that riffs on established tropes and results in a new classic. Sometimes, the filmmaker focuses on and wonderfully captures a tense, chilling atmosphere. And sometimes…well, sometimes you get Corporate Retreat.

You never realize quite how much production logos ease you into the movie watching experience until they’re completely absent, and you’re dumped straight from AMC’s “Your escape. Starts. Now” to a drone shot of the desert accompanied by stereotypically haunting music, eventually settling on a sprawling building atop a hill. The start of the story reflects that choice; we’re given no time to acclimate to the characters or learn anything about them before things start rolling. We learn they’re C-suite executives at unicorn Immaculate Pond Technologies despite no one being older than thirty (save for Chief Revenue Officer Deb, played by Rosanna Arquette), and that’s about it. Their titles are splashed on the screen in cartoonish freeze frames, stylized lettering, and a hand-drawn arrow pointing at them for some reason, as if there was anyone else occupying the shot. It’s a jarring visual strategy, implying a playful energy that will quickly flee the frame, never to return.

Even if you go in unaware of the premise, and you happen to look away when the film inexplicably shows you flashes of the ending (including a shot that quotes Sunset Boulevard?), Anna Drubich’s score ensures you know you’re supposed to be anxious at all times, save for the moments you’re expected to laugh at the limpest jokes possible. It’s not a bad score, per se, but director Aaron Fisher relies on it inject dread into otherwise mundane sequences far too often, the juxtaposition laying bare its intention. In any case, it means that when the retreat’s guides, Lola and Amber (Sasha Lane and Zión Moreno), start talking about the seven gateways to spiritual enlightenment, one of which is labeled “sacrifice”, you have a pretty good sense of how the plot will unfold.

There’s also Ginger (Odeya Rush), a college student dating the company’s lawyer, Cliff (Elias Kacavas). Being an outsider means she resists the bullshit and the drama and the infighting that arise, a device that perfectly positions her to provide some excitement as she refuses to accept what’s happening, but which Fisher has no idea how to wield. Mostly, she broods in the corner, save for the one time she lashes out and laughs in the face of their tormentor, former-CEO Arthur (Alan Ruck), who orchestrated this situation as revenge for his ouster. It’s not even consistent, as she’s desperately trying to escape one second, and capitulating to the AK-wielding guides another, despite having a clear opening to act before being murdered in the desert. The screenplay’s failure to develop her is thus even more frustrating, reducing her to a weak collection of symbols that frequently melts into the background noise of the scene.

The original sin is the screenplay, co-written by Fisher and Kerri Lee Romeo. Characters speak in quips and cliches and clunky exposition. Their actions are nonsensical, hinting that they’re aliens more than dummies who stumbled into a lucrative startup (whose industry is conspicuously never mentioned…). It’s possible Fisher and Romeo were going for “rich people are out-of-touch”, but by casting twenty-somethings dressed throughout in the uniform of Phoenix Corporate Retreat (a pale yellow t-shirt with beige cargo shorts), the audience is not given the impression of wealth. Besides, their actions are more often asides that do little more than waste our time, like when they decide to rip one camera off the wall and hide behind the door, which they quickly abandon the moment they’re called out on it.

More painful than that, though, its complete failure of tone management. In theory, this is a horror-comedy, but Fisher is too trepidatious regarding both. It’s not just that he swings wildly back and forth, but that neither side is all that stark. For example, while it’s upsetting to imagine yourself held at gunpoint, seeing it happen to anonymous characters on screen isn’t particularly moving. Especially when the motivation is forcing participation in Arthur’s laughing contest. The gore that runs throughout is visceral, although the film’s budget means it’s only good enough to hold up to a single, quick viewing; afterwards, it’s kept off screen for the rest of the movie, reducing the impact. On the other side, nowhere near enough investment is put into the humor to make it land, either by the script or the actors. What’s there is silly in a way that distances us from the proceedings, and it’s gone in an instant to make way for more frantic yelling.

Through all this confusion, it should come as no surprise that the movie’s ideas also get lost. It’s sort of a parable about backstabbing, but Arthur’s treatment of Ginger confuses that. It’s partially a cautionary tale about the danger of cults, but a flock of two doesn’t make much of an impression. It’s too unfocused to be going after Silicon Valley start-ups, the lack of specificity ensuring we never focus on the company, just the people. Arthur’s age compared to theirs (a gap of thirty or forty years) could point towards complaining about “The Youth”, but the first one to die is the oldest, Deb, and none of the gateways bring out generational differences. None of which considers all the hastily abandoned plot threads, such as Lola and Amber’s bickering, Cliff and Ginger’s relationship, and Arthur’s anger. The only thing worse than a plot palpably contrived to further some agenda is one palpably contrived for no clear reason.

Combining a handful of trendy topics without any visuals to show off or something to say marks this as a cynical attempt to ride the wave of public perception. For all their flaws, at least movies like Undertone and Iron Lung were trying something. Instead, Corporate Retreat has nothing to offer outside of a single actor (Ruck) having a grand old time, landing it in the same company as Death of a Unicorn and How to Make a Killing. But without the fantastical concept of the former or the fun of the latter, it fails to clear even their already low bars, making for a slog that feels far longer than its mere eighty-nine minute runtime.