Add Ti West’s MaXXXine to the list of exploitation flicks Joe Bob Briggs would insist you check out. The much-anticipated, giallo-inspired climax to the X trilogy (2022’s X and Pearl) features voyeuristic knife-fu, car compacter-fu and, of course, stiletto-dick-stomping-fu. Despite the compelling and outrageous boxes it checks, MaXXXine provides a conclusion that — while in many ways incomparable — feels limp in the shadow of its predecessors.
Six years removed from X’s bloodbath, final girl Maxine Minx (Mia Goth, Infinity Pool) vies to move from porn to blockbusters. She’s made a name for herself in Hollywood’s underbelly, but her dreams have quickly outgrown the back alleys, strip clubs and peepshows where she finds herself. She nails an audition for a much-anticipated horror movie, The Puritan II. Unfortunately, a shady, annoying private investigator (Kevin Bacon, Tremors) and a serial killer targeting her closest friends muffles her celebration. Oh, and Pearl haunts her.
It can’t be understated: Each entry in the X trilogy has something to appreciate. X was an excellent homage to classic slashers supported by a phenomenal, dual performance from Goth. Pearl was a fascinating character study that combines the best parts of The Red Shoes and Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer. MaXXXine, on the other hand, has an undeniably distinct style splattered across a living and breathing (and profusely bleeding) world.
But style alone can’t carry the film. It clearly defines what it’s examining, and the main idea it leans into — “fame’s a killer” and the sharp edge of stardom — yet only touches the surface. It’s like MaXXXine’s afraid to say anything challenging, so it instead opts for the most narratively convenient off-ramp it can scrape for. Similar to what made Nicolas Winding Refn’s The Neon Demon and Alex Garland’s Men lackluster, an uninspired climax rarely earns what those films’ effective first halves vie to accomplish.
That’s not to say MaXXXine is irreparably ruined by its final act. Goth still emerges as the backbone of all three Xs. She has a vast range that, though best showcased in Pearl, remains firing on all cylinders here. And West’s ability to keep dialogue snappy and natural is only exceeded by his talent for shooting captivating and alluring frames. Unfortunately, none of those exceptional traits can mask disappointing ends. It doesn’t matter how many times you punch Kevin Bacon in the face. Sequences pop an audience, but a thoughtful and well-rounded plot gives a flick permeance.
That said, you should still see MaXXXine; at the end of the day, even the weakest of the X trilogy is still far from schlock. True, what it does manage to say about an artist’s meteoric rise doesn’t carry the same weight as Pearl’s showstopping dance into a cruel reality. Still, like virtually all of West’s work, it clearly captures the tone it pursues. It’s just hard not to wish that aesthetic was part of a more realized package. Please don’t tease us like this next time, Ti. Please. —Daniel Bokemper