Is it just me, or does this timeline just keep getting weirder? Merriam-Webster tells us weird is an adjective describing something “of strange or extraordinary character: odd, fantastic.” According to Ann and Jeff VanderMeer in their essay “The Weird: An Introduction,” in modern vernacular, weird — or, more specifically, The Weird — refers to literature “in which some other element, like weird ritual or the science fictional, replaces the supernatural while providing the same dark frisson of the unknown and visionary.”
Weird fiction authors of the 19th and 20th centuries include H.P. Lovecraft, William Hope Hodgson, Algernon Blackwood, M. R. James, and Clark Ashton Smith. In the 1990s and 2000s, the New Weird movement materialized, propelled by the work of authors such as China Miéville, Jeff VanderMeer, K.J. Bishop, Thomas Ligotti, Paul Di Filippo, Jeffrey Thomas, and Kathe Koja.
In cinema, the influence of the New Weird can be seen in films such as “Pan’s Labyrinth,” “The City of Lost Children,” “I Saw the TV Glow,” “Glorious,” and the adaptation of VanderMeer’s novel “Annihilation.”
Enough lecturing: Let’s get back to how weird this timeline has become. Let me introduce Simon Glassman, an Edmonton-based filmmaker, writer, and comedian. His website tells us he has been working for the Edmonton Street Performers Festival for the past 17 years. He even has a side hustle as a successful professional caricature artist. As a filmmaker, he is the creator of the two-time award-winning puppet web/TV series “Felt Up!” and he has served as an animator for commercials.
None of that seems weird, right?
This affable comedian and cartoonist is now getting attention for his pioneering horror-comedy “Buffet Infinity,” an unconventional piece of social satire served with an all-you-care-to-consume plateful of weirdness. As the film’s director, Glassman balances humor and horror, parodying mass consumption and lampooning capitalist culture. The most innovative element of “Buffet Infinity” is that it is presented as a series of fake, low-budget TV ads.
“Buffet Infinity” premiered exclusively on Shudder on Aug. 21.
The film eschews the conventional storytelling format, opting instead to imbed its narrative in mock commercials. It is found-footage format adjacent, emphasizing all the key characteristics of analog horror, including the low-fidelity aesthetic and an uncanny awareness of pre-digital cultural references. Set in the fictional Westridge, Alberta, the film opens with a commercial for local attorney Mosley Rosin (Kevin Singh). Rosin delivers the usual spiel urging anyone who has been injured due to no fault of their own to call and find out if they are entitled to compensation. It seems like a perfectly standard script — car accident, slip on driveway, dog bites — until Rosin adds to the list “medical malpractice that leaves part of your body mangled and deformed.” It’s a subtle insinuation that things are not quite normal in this milieu.
Commercials for businesses such as Westridge Automotive and Mattress Mattress Surplus follow, with a short clip from a local news broadcast mentioning that people in the city’s northside “got a rude awakening,” before the channel jumps to another station. Subsequent clips, scattered throughout the movie, link this to the appearance of a sinkhole and unstipulated instances of high strangeness.
The first important reveal is a commercial for Jenny’s Sandwhich Shop, owned and operated by Jennifer Avery (Allison Bench). In a series of spots for this business, the viewer learns that the popular eatery is known for its fresh bread, fresh vegetables, and Jennifer’s signature sandwich sauce.
A competitor, Buffet Infinity, soon opens in the same shopping complex. Several ads for this restaurant instruct patrons to “park around front of the building.” Unlike other commercials, the voiceover narration for Buffet Infinity sounds strikingly abnormal. It’s almost as if whoever is speaking understands neither the language nor the culture.
The viewer also is introduced to the Westridge Society for Religious Freedom, a local cult, through a commercial featuring a black dot on a red background. Pixel text appears informing viewers that they can “make the black dot disappear through the power of the fortified mind.” In a separate ad for a book sale hosted by the group, it likens its founder and leader, Langdon P. Hershey (Dino Primo), to the world’s greatest writers, including William Shakespeare, George Orwell, Ernest Hemingway and Virginia Woolf.
The story Glassman is conveying begins to take shape within the first 10 minutes: Buffet Infinity initially manifests as friendly competition for Jenny’s Sandwhich Shop, but that rivalry quickly becomes aggressive and merciless. In this construct, the uncompromising and violent pursuit of market domination is likened to the emergence of a malevolent entity. Buffet Infinity launches a campaign of negative advertisements disparaging Avery, who eventually is reported as missing. More townsfolk start disappearing, and Glassman gives the viewer plenty of hints as to what is happening. Other advertisers reflect the unfolding madness as they struggle to either take sides or remain neutral and in business.
Somehow, Glassman ensnares the viewer in this chaos. Channel-surfing through the pandemonium of fabricated low-budget cable television ads is strangely analogous to the modern addiction to doomscrolling.
“Buffet Infinity” is not for everyone. It requires a willingness to go along with Glassman’s eccentric concept and to embrace its absurdity. Watching the film is a test of endurance and attention to detail. It is a one-of-a-kind patchwork masterpiece surreal dread that owes as much to sketch comedy shows (Glassman acknowledges the influence of “Second City Television”) as it does to weird fiction.
Lee Clark Zumpe is entertainment editor at Tampa Bay Newspapers, a Tomatometer-Approved Critic, and an author of short fiction. He can be reached by email at lzumpe@TBNweekly.com.