Review: Fried Barry (2020)

As an expansion of his own 2017 short film, Ryan Kruger’s ‘Fried Barry’ is an intriguing experience, akin to a fever dream.  Some will balk at its visuals and intense style, but there is something going on here that will entice scifi/horror genre fans.

Set in Cape Town, South Africa, the basis of the story revolves around a heroin addict, who isn’t father of the year, by any stretch of the imagination.  At the beginning, we see him arrive home after yet another night out, causing arguments and even questioning whether his child is even his. From here he runs away again on another bender, rather than face any responsibility, but this time it all ends with him being abducted by Aliens.

Probed, examined, and then possessed by an alien, ‘Barry’ embarks on a journey to presumably investigate human existence.  This voyage of alien discovery takes him through all the seedy parts of Cape Town’s nightlife, gets caught up with a local predator, and then even has a partial reconciliation with Barry’s family. 

There is no questioning that Fried Barry is aimed distinctly at a Grindhouse or Psychotronic audience, and there are no apologies given in parts of the film for some of the content.  As it weaves its way across the city, Fried Barry ventures from surrealist comedy, to full on body horror, and isn’t too concerned with staying in one lane.

It also has a strange and uncertain moral compass at its heart with some sections indicating that the alien acts in a manner than is truly just, while at other times seems to make some choices that are dubious at best.  It may well be that the intention is just to suggest that he acts against anyone who harms him, and that there is more of a self-defence dynamic at play, but it is a grey area.  Either way, quite often the alien Barry is much more of a reliable character than the real Barry, which is an interesting notion in itself.

The overall effect though is one of unabashed debauchery, with Barry’s freewheeling, anarchic actions being delivered in punchy colour-drenched vignettes, and with only brief respites in-between.  That it works so well has got to be down to the performance of Gary Green as Barry, a newcomer as a feature film lead, but a veteran stunt performer.  With an expressive demeanour and impressive physicality, he maintains the audience’s attention, adapting his look as needed, from confused bystander to grotesque malevolent force.

Backed up by a pulsating score that may at times overpower any incoming dialogue and allied to a dynamic directing style full of fast cuts, Fried Barry is definitely an explosion for the senses.  It must be said though, that its delightfully rampant excess isn’t all it has going for it, as it is also funny and at times possibly even tender.   Some of those touches come as quite a surprise, as you get the initial impression that some elements would get ditched in favour of style over substance, but there are certainly moments of emotional depth amongst the levity.

Ultimately, this is not a deep character piece though, and you have to go into it expecting a certain amount of irreverence, splatter, and bombast.  Fried Barry knows what kind of experimental, acid trip it is and gleefully dives straight into it.  If you know this ahead of time, there is a lot to get from it.  Just don’t take it too seriously and enjoy the ride.

Fried Barry streams from May 7th, exclusively on Shudder.