Seeing filmmaker Seth A. Smith linked to Tin Can made it a must-see for me; back in 2017, he helmed the overlooked jewel The Crescent, which captivated me with its imagery and narrative. So it is obvious that I had to watch Tin Can.
Hospitals are often disliked by most people because of the body fluids they contain and the fact that they need patients to spend their days waiting to recover. For many people, these conditions are anxiety nightmares, and claustrophobia is a problem that affects many of us. However, suffering through a global pandemic is something we can all relate to and, Smith has merged all of these elements into one engrossing, distressing, anxiety-inducing f**king nightmare. A dangerous epidemic has spread throughout the planet, but despite her best efforts to combat it, a scientist instead finds herself imprisoned within a tin can.
Fret (Anna Hopkins), a parasitologist looking for a treatment for an infection that is ravaging the world, is the focus of more than half of the story. However, soon after reaching such a breakthrough, she is attacked by an unidentified person, knocked unconscious, and awakens inside a small capsule hooked to wires and tubes protruding from all sides. Unsure of what has happened to her, she uncomfortably and painstakingly removes the tubes and hears the masculine voice of her onetime lover, John (Simon Mutabazi). Through numerous flashbacks and conversations, we do learn more about John and Fret’s relationship through these, and it adds more to the narrative.
This is the kind of movie that begs for multiple viewings. Given the way Smith interweaves these flashbacks and provides insight into Fret, John, and their crew within a confined environment, the narrative has a disorienting structure that only leaves you with fragments of the story. It was only when going back and rewatching pieces that I comprehended everything Smith was laying out. If you anticipate the film to give you everything in one sitting, you’ll be frustrated or bewildered by what happens since, while Tin Can does give the audience a lot of information and relatively plain story elements, it can also be incredibly confusing and all over the place at times.
As you watch her endure this torture, Hopkins gives an exceptional performance; you can feel every emotion she is experiencing as you watch her. There were parts of the movie that forced me to steer away. This is a story about women fighting to survive against an unknown force, but this movie is also a reflection on humanity and the nature of human existence, which at times makes it downright dismal. Smith has a number of roles in this movie, including writing the score, which is outstanding. However, Allan Cooke’s superb special effects, which use obscenely filthy prosthetics and makeup to depict the bizarre effects of the virus, are truly appalling throughout the entire picture.
Taking the SFX and combining them with Kevin A. Fraser’s aesthetic approach to the film’s cinematography really makes it stand out. Yes, this is ultimately a horror movie, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t visually stunning. Everyone is presented in such a beautiful way that the viewer does not feel as if they are missing out on anything if they can’t see said individual. The voices and camera work combine incredibly well, creating an immersive experience that puts you right in the thick of it.
Fret is the anchor of this film, and Hopkins kills every second of it. Despite its crazy theme and jaw-dropping visuals, its main premise is a tale of love gone horribly wrong and female ambition being held back by men. Tin Can, on its surface, reminds us of a film like the 2021 Netflix thriller Oxygen, but it is something that is far more than that. Yes, it has its characters trapped and fighting for their lives, but the real threat to the film is even presented in 2022. It reflects our ongoing global health crisis in a way that is truly horrifying.
Tin Can is currently available in select theaters and available On Demand.
[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zc6e4rFhnR0]
Tin Can is an engrossing, distressing, anxiety-inducing f**king nightmare
Codie Allen is a passionate trans and queer film critic and entertainment writer based in Orlando, FL. A Rotten Tomatoes-approved critic, Dorian Awards member, and CACF member, they also contribute to The Curb and InSession Film. When they’re not writing about films, you can find them sipping way too much tea and listening to Taylor Swift.
