Tycoon

Brimming with indelible images, Charlotte Zhang’s brilliant debut locates the roots of a dystopian future in the here and now. Set around the 2028 Summer Olympics, the film imagines a Los Angeles gripped by paranoia and conspiracies; and a livestock disease has led to a ban on all meat production, leaving the main source of protein distribution – powdered insects – in the control of a megacorporation called Ootheca Inc. Ironically enough, a cockroach infestation has taken over several local neighbourhoods, making Ootheca’s monopolising greed even more insidious. All of this might sound pretty out there, yet the heart of Tycoon is a deeply human story of survival. Both hustlers up for any challenge, Lito (Miguel Padilla-Juarez) and Jay (Jon Lawrence Reyes) take advantage of the widespread chaos to embark on a series of petty crimes, including breaking into an Ootheca trailer to steal boxes of the precious protein powder. Their escapades are dynamically rendered on a variety of formats including handheld DV camera and Super 8, as well as Xerox art. But compared to other film-makers who favour this DIY style, Zhang is beautifully attentive to blocking and composition. Scenes of house parties, twilight rides against the setting sun, or high-rev street drifting harmonise into a stunning city symphony, in which a visual rhythm gradually emerges from disorder. Beneath the seemingly casual tone of the visuals, there are also serious political implications. As Latino men living in a time of state-sanctioned racial violence, Lito and Jay are enfolded in economic precarity and constant surveillance. That they choose to game the system rather than waiting to be squashed by it – like Ootheca’s crushed insects – is wonderfully empowering. Zhang occasionally makes explicit these political allusions by way of text intertitles, which sometimes feel a little awkward; still, when is a better time to deliver a manifesto than in one’s first film?