Joe DeBoer and Kyle McConaghy directed Dead Mail, a lo-fi psychological thriller about obsession and deep loneliness. The idea appears ordinary for a crime story but that’s where the normality stops with this film. An ‘80s aesthetic reboot, skillful genre mix, and an intimate understanding of every single person in it are what make this throwback experiment so interesting.
A man bound by ropes and covered in blood named Josh (Sterling Macer Jr.) crawls out of a house onto an empty street in Illinois. After his captor drags him back inside screaming, he manages to stuff a bloodied letter into the mailbox. That letter ends up on post office worker Jasper’s (Tomas Boykin) desk- Jasper is good at investigating “dead mail.” At the same time Trent (John Fleck) arrives at the men’s center where he lives, and it becomes very clear that Trent wants that letter badly.
Starting far down the line where Josh’s imprisonment is almost over and then working our way back to its beginning, DeBoer and McConaghy have created for Dead Mail a unique structure of storytelling that is not linear. This is cut together with Jasper investigating as well as his friends’ relationships with each other at work in the post office which share continuity through these three lonely men. There is some sort of peace or acceptance of their aloneness for Jasper and Josh while Trent desperately seeks after any connection with others or relief from being alone causing him to do terrifying things. Macer Jr.’s portrayal gives off an air quietude about himself along side dedication towards what he does best making both characters easy root-for candidates who represent different sides of coin when it comes being alone like them; on one hand you have someone like jasper who seems fine all alone doing what he loves most but then there’s someone such as trent whose acts are driven by fear brought about when all efforts fail in finding companionship. Fleck plays his role with ease as he draws sympathy from us despite being evil personified.
The grainy lo-fi aesthetic, along with the synth-heavy score and sound design not only serves to make it look authentic but also adds another layer of strangeness due to these weirdos populating this film. The analog aspect of it all also paints a picture where you could be forgiven for thinking that this nondescript Midwestern setting is some otherworldly place altogether.
As part of its experimentations with form Dead Mail is hard to pin down in terms genre. DeBoer and McConaghy take on elements from indie dramas that are offbeat, verge into psychological/ crime thrillers tinged with dreadfulness brought about by horror themes. Additionally, moments of levity are introduced when the movie gets too sad about feeling like you don’t belong or have friends who understand what’s going on which represents low points experienced by those suffering through imposter syndrome while still trying their bests at fitting into society. All in all it’s an admirably self-assured piece; a movie that knows what works for it and sticks to its guns so viewers can get fully immersed within themselves inside 80s Midwest.
Josh, a man who is tied up and covered in blood (Sterling Macer Jr.), escapes from the house onto an empty street in Illinois. He stuffs a dirty letter into the mailbox before his captor grabs him by the feet and hauls him back inside, screaming. The mail winds up on the desk of postal worker Jasper (Tomas Boykin), an investigator of “dead mail.” As Jasper looks into the letter, Trent (John Fleck) arrives at the men’s center where he lives — and it becomes clear that Trent will stop at nothing to get his hands on that envelope.
Dead Mail SXSW
DeBoer and McConaghy take a nonlinear approach with their storytelling, starting well into Josh’s captivity before doubling back to how he got there. That’s intercut with Jasper’s investigation as well as relationship-building scenes between Jasper and his co-workers at the post office. The common thread among all three men is loneliness; for Jasper and Josh, there’s contentedness or acceptance of the fact that they’re loners themselves. It’s Trent’s desperation for connection any connection that leads him to commit some deeply unsettling acts. Macer Jr. and Boykin play their characters with a quiet solitude and devotion to duty that easily earns viewer investment in both Josh and Jasper; Fleck does much with little to garner sympathy for his devilish character.
The grainy quality combined with synth-heavy score/sound design here lends not only an authenticity but also supports the offbeat tone made stranger by these diverse individuals within this lo-fi aesthetic world; analog further paints nondescript Midwestern setting as if were vastly different singular world.
As part of its form experimentation, Dead Mail resists easy categorization. DeBoer and McConaghy go all over the place: off-kilter indie drama, psychological thriller with touches of dread-inducing horror rooted in imposter syndrome and broken loneliness. The movie knows when to lighten things up, but it’s a sad one. It’s a film that confidently marches to its own beat, and it immerses you in the ‘80s Midwest like nothing else you’ve ever seen.
John Fleck in Dead Mail
Dead Mail is much more complicated than its story lets on through the characters themselves and how they’re presented. There’s something tactile about this version of the decade and these people that feels lived-in even when the film can be quiet (almost too quiet for the first half). You want to lean into what DeBoer and McConaghy are doing, but sometimes finding their unique wavelength can be difficult.
Dead Mail builds to an extremely satisfying finish that involves supporting players Susan Priver and Micki Jackson ratcheting up intensity during a final confrontation when all is lost. It’s very light on horror, but if you’re a genre fan looking for something different with strong craft elements throughout and challenging ideas at play, then Dead Mail is absolutely worth your time.
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