“Let’s rob the world”

How far would you go to be with someone you love? For most people, there doesn’t seem to be any limit, outside of anything immoral or criminal, which tends to become a potential issue for those who enjoy living their lives as law-abiding citizens. Yet, some will feel compelled to even cross that boundary and embrace a life of crime if it means solidifying a relationship, which can be quite perilous for those who don’t realise just how troubling such a mentality can be, and how it will eventually lead those who follow it down a path of self-destruction and danger from which return is entirely unlikely. This is the foundation on which Adam Carter Rehmeier constructs Carolina Caroline, his blisteringly dark and deeply unsettling fourth film, in which he blends Southern gothic, romantic melodrama and crime thriller into one exceptionally bold work of unhinged madness. The film is set at some point in the recent past, and centres on the titular Caroline Daniels, a mild-mannered young woman who dreams of leaving her small Texas town, but realises that girls like her shouldn’t have dreams much bigger than their immediate surroundings, in fear of being too disappointed by what exists on the other side. This changes when she meets Oliver Anderson, a handsome and mysterious drifter who immediately piques her curiosity. Very soon, Caroline and her new beau are on a cross-country trip, with their intended destination being South Carolina, where she hopes to reunite with the mother who absconded from their family just after giving birth. Along the way, the couple commit a range of increasingly more dangerous bank robberies, evading capture through a combination of Caroline’s innocent demeanour and Oliver’s ingenious, well-crafted plans that he wholeheartedly believes can help them avoid being caught – until something goes wrong and they are forced to face the consequences. A wonderfully compelling twist on the Bonnie and Clyde archetype, steeped heavily in a very particular cultural niche that the director explores extensively, Carolina Caroline is a fascinating piece of filmmaking that may seem simple on the surface, but has a unique depth that draws the viewer in and holds our attention in often unexpected ways.

The adage that “crime doesn’t pay” is so common that it has almost lost all meaning, primarily because of how obvious it is, and the extent to which it can sometimes be indicative of something far deeper and more concerning. Carolina Caroline interrogates the romanticisation of criminal couples, who can sometimes become the subject of folktales, cultural myths where their rebellion and penchant for lawless violence can be very exciting, reframed as symbols of freedom and passion. The film takes this familiar archetype and removes as much of its glamour as possible, exploring the more sinister realities that simmer beneath the fantasy. The film is not about two people who just commit crimes for the fun of it – that is where it starts, but we soon realise that their relationship is built on a shared desire to escape from their humdrum lives, which is a resonant concept, even if it doesn’t always align with our personal perspective. Through this, the film creates a very interesting dynamic: the small-town girl who falls madly in love with the enigmatic drifter who represents everything she strives to achieve, but has never even approached until this precise moment, with his promise of allowing her to see a wider world being the foundation of the story, and the eventual catalyst for its tragic conclusion. The idea of building a film around viewing love as a form of escape is certainly interesting, particularly in how it inverts our expectations: the idea of being drawn into a world of endless freedom actually becomes a form of imprisonment, since there’s nothing quite as restrictive as constantly being on the run, forced to spiral into a permanent state of paranoia, questioning if being a fugitive is actually far less liberating than they seem to think. This sharply contrasts with the depiction of their growing love, where their relationship offers them both a sense of belonging, to the point where the inevitable destruction leads to a loss of identity in many ways. The director weaves in several other concepts, such as the corruption of innocence (particularly in how he explores the extent to which ordinary people can gradually justify their immoral and dangerous choices) and the process of reinvention, using the journey of a young woman reflecting on her desire to escape her past but never actually being able to fully transform. This is all tied together to form this fascinating road movie in which the outlaw fantasy takes centre stage, exposing the deception and instability beneath the surface of these often folkloric figures.

The foundation of Carolina Caroline is built on the performances delivered by the two leads, who are exceptional, understanding absolutely every nuance of this film and proving that there is nothing quite as effective as performances that can capture the spirit of the material. Samara Weaving has been steadily raising her profile, delivering stellar performances across every conceivable genre and making it quite clear that she is a legitimately talented actor, someone who is always reliable, even with material that could be quite tricky. As the titular protagonist of this film, she does what I consider to be her best work to date, primarily because there is nothing that exists between us and her character – unlike her work in horror (which is perhaps where she is most known), there aren’t layers of genre-specific elements behind which she can occasionally hide in moments where the focus is on the story rather than the people within. Here, she is the primary focus and the film ultimately proves to be a magnificent showcase for her talents, specifically her undeniable charisma and deeply profound magnetism that anchors this film and makes her work so incredibly captivating. Kyle Gallner reunites with the director after they collaborate on Dinner in America, a breakthrough for both of them, and the moment they made it clear that we were witnessing the arrival of two immense talents. Despite being in a role that could’ve demanded a more well-known actor (especially since it’s such a complex character), Gallner is given the role, and he proves to be exceptional, finding the right balance between sleazy and earnest, menacing but charismatic. There’s a quality to his acting style that both attracts us towards him and repels us at the same time. The chemistry between the leads only emphasises this, since we both understand Caroline’s fascination with Oliver, but also cannot help but watch in horror as she succumbs to his deceptive charms, knowing that we are only voyeurs, peering into their lives without actually being able to make much of a difference in the process. It’s a fascinating dynamic, and one that the film explores brilliantly in the pairing of these two wonderful actors.

Something that we learn very fast about Rehmeier is that he is not a director who seems to be focused on only making one kind of film. Instead, he flirts with different genres and focuses on evoking particular ideas depending on what he is aiming to communicate. The results speak for themselves, since all of his films are intriguing blends of different genres, capturing compelling elements while also being unique in their own right. In terms of Carolina Caroline, he successfully combines Southern gothic tropes with aspects of the crime thriller and romantic drama genres, creating a unique fusion that allows for a shift between moments of tenderness, tension and disturbing violence (often even within the same scene) without ever coming across as tonally inconsistent. Much of this film is built around its atmosphere, with the rural setting giving it an inherent sense of grit and gravitas, and the gradual transition to a cross-country road movie providing some structure; the landscape of the American South becomes the stage onto which the director can explore the emotional states of these characters as their fantasy of freedom gradually decays. There is also an unexpectedly emotional component to this film, where the characters are not treated merely as criminals, but rather have a sense of complexity that makes their relationship slightly more resonant. These are just two misguided young people who found themselves on the wrong side of the law, and now have to pay the consequences for it, and the film ensures that we are constantly interested in their motivations, understanding their reasons for leading this life without necessarily agreeing with it as a whole. The tension is very strong, and rises gradually as the film progresses, their small acts of rebellion eventually becoming full-blown criminal behaviour, creating an ever-expanding sense of inescapable despair that lingers heavily over the film. Oscillating between cheerful and hopeless, Carolina Caroline emerges as a vivid character study about the psychological developments experienced by these people, doing its best to avoid overt crime thriller mechanics and becoming far more interesting in how it captures the underlying spirit of the material without becoming too overly concerned with how it delivers its message.

When we assess Carolina Caroline alongside his previous films, it is clear that Rehmeier is still finding his voice as a filmmaker – but rather than being disparaging, this is an indication of his genuine potential to grow into one of our most interesting filmmakers working today, someone whois steadily amassing a solid body of work whereby he stakes a claim in a number of different genres, each one unique and memorable in its own way. The film is a well-crafted psychological thriller that takes us on a fascinating journey into the lives of two people who choose to take the risk, knowing that they will inevitably be caught but not allowing it to get in the way of their budding relationship. Bold, daring and frequently captivating in a way that can sometimes be overlooked, it is clear that Carolina Caroline is a film with enormous potential, all of which it more than appropriately meets. On the surface, it may initially appear to be a relatively simple story about crime and romance; the film uses a familiar framework to explore far more complex ideas relating to identity, desperation and the lengths to which some will go in pursuit of the life that they wholeheartedly believe that they deserve. The result is a deeply compelling work that refuses to glorify the choices made by its characters, instead using a recognisable set of themes to examine the fragile boundary between freedom and self-destruction. Through looking at two characters who willingly step into the free-form prison that comes with being a fugitive from justice (portrayed brilliantly by a pair of genuinely interesting young actors), and driven by the deep desire to explore the world in a way that is nothing if not exhilarating, Carolina Caroline proves to be one of the year’s best films, and a tremendously captivating glimpse into the darker side of the human condition, revealing ideas that many would prefer to keep somewhat dormant.