‘Dashcam’ review: Dir. Rob Savage (2021) [LFF]

Whereas Host was made to be watched alone in front of your computer screen, Rob Savage’s latest film Dashcam needs to be watched in a crowded cinema, preferably with an audience up for a challenge. The writing team of Savage, Gemma Hurley, and Jed Shepherd have once again crafted a dark and disturbing tale that will provide fresh nightmare fuel to sustain that started by Host. Starring American personality Annie Hardy as a fictionalised version of herself, Dashcam is set during the Covid-19 pandemic and follows singer Annie as she breaks lockdown to travel from America to England. Once she has landed, she seeks refuge at the home of her former bandmate Stretch (Amer Chadha-Patel). Annie’s anti-vax Covid-disbelieving attitude quickly gets her into trouble. After running off in Stretch’s car, Annie finds herself caught up with Angela (Angela Enahoro), a woman with a dangerous secret.  

Dashcam is a very different movie to Host. Yes, both are set in the UK during the pandemic, and sure, many of the cast and crew remain the same, but tonally Savage pushes Dashcam in the opposite direction. Zoom is gone, replaced by live streaming; Annie runs her own social channel ‘Band Car’, something that she never seems to turn off. Interestingly, Annie isn’t particularly popular, her first few streams are watched by barely even fifty people, and yet in spite of her practically non-existent viewership, she feels compelled to share her life with the public, whether there is an appetite or not. As with Zoom in Host, the viewing platform makes an interesting environment in which the narrative can unfold. Savage peppered Host with the occasional Zoom glitch, and uses the live-stream format in a similar way. When connected to the internet, there’s a steady stream of comments that take over the bottom left corner of the screen. Paying attention to both on-screen action and the comments becomes a bit of a challenge however, which is unfortunate as the comments house some real gems, such as a remark about how what is happening is ‘like those girls last year’. Thankfully, when the action really kicks in the stream goes offline. A buffering circle overtakes the top right corner and the comments disappear. The vanishing comments work similar to whenever it’s bedtime in Paranormal Activity; the audience knows that something is going to go down. 

Whilst big chunks of the story play out offline, Annie’s viewers may be locked out, but as secret passengers inside Annie’s camera we witness the horror firsthand in all it’s over-the-top and extravagant glory. Once the frightening aspects begin, Dashcam offers little respite. The story moves from creepy location to creepier location, to creepiest location, as Savage throws everything in his arsenal to keep the adrenaline levels surging. Watching Dashcam, especially with a full crowd, feels similar to visiting an immersive scare attraction. Things are thrust into the path of the camera from every direction and it quickly becomes disorientating trying to do anything other than sit back and enjoy the ride. Dan Martin’s FX sing once more; Dan and his team build upon the icky goo of The Girl on the Third Floor, to create all kinds of disgusting bodily fluids. You’ll need a strong stomach (or to have at least survived potty training) to keep your snacks down as things get grim. 

The women of Host were akin to the Spice Girls of horror, all infectiously charismatic, and the audience liked everyone immediately. Their reactions to their Zoom seance gone wrong reflected the audience’s own thoughts and feelings. Dashcam’s Annie however, doesn’t attract the same connection. Annie is a harsh and abrasive character. She has an expletive-heavy, brash, and vulgar personality who immediately alienates everyone around her, including the audience. If however, you consider the character as a caricature of an entitled MAGA Covid conspiracy theorist, with the aggression and potty-mouth of South Park’s Eric Cartman, then Annie becomes an entertaining protagonist. There’s nothing in the rules that says you have to love the ‘hero’ of the story, just so long as they have something that a viewer can hook into. In the case of Annie it is the audience’s disdain that keeps them watching, as they witness just how far Annie will push things before she has offended literally everyone and everything she comes into contact with. 

As intense, action-packed, and terrifying as moments of Dashcam are, it is the comedy that really shines here. Hardy herself is responsible for most of this, but other touches, like the countdown to the stream restarting just after something unmentionable has happened, generate enough humour to break the tension. The biggest laughs come during the end credits, I won’t give away why, but they are something that needs to be experienced. 

A grime-laden, gnarly rollercoaster ride of gore, gags, and insane WTF moments, Dashcam doesn’t quite have the mass appeal or charm of Host, but it is exactly the kind of wild genre film that cinema was made for. 

Dashcam was reviewed at the BFI London Film Festival 2021.