A bored, middle-aged husband pushes his young wife into living out his every sexual desire, but when they take things too far, he struggles to cope with his reality after the fantasy has end... Read allA bored, middle-aged husband pushes his young wife into living out his every sexual desire, but when they take things too far, he struggles to cope with his reality after the fantasy has ended.A bored, middle-aged husband pushes his young wife into living out his every sexual desire, but when they take things too far, he struggles to cope with his reality after the fantasy has ended.
Kyle F White
- Dennis Breck
- (as Kyle White)
T. Ryan Johnston
- Connor
- (as Ryan T. Johnson)
Vee Gee
- School Girl
- (as Gee Vee)
D.J. Morrison
- Bar Fighter
- (as DJ Morris)
Justin A Duncan
- Head Security Guard
- (as Justin Duncan)
- Director
- Writer
- All cast & crew
- Production, box office & more at IMDbPro
Storyline
Did you know
- TriviaThough credited in the film as a 2nd Assistant Director, Mitch McLeod was actually the 1st Assistant Director on the film. Director John Kviklys was struggling to direct an intense scene between his two actors, at which point McLeod was asked to step in to direct the scene. This caused contention between McLeod and Kviklys which, in turn, caused contention between McLeod and producer Timothy Talbott. Of the many results of this falling out, McLeod's improper credit in the film was one of them.
- SoundtracksDriftin' at Sea
Written by Greg Heinen
Performed by Mysticeti Sleeper
Featured review
Every now and then, a movie comes along with a concept so promising that you can't help but root for it. Trunkfish, a 2021 release that bills itself as a mix of psychological drama and quirky dark comedy, is exactly that sort of film. Unfortunately, while the idea behind it is commendable, the execution is an uneven mess that leaves viewers scratching their heads. And while we're on the subject of head-scratching, one thing that defies all logic is the central conceit of the movie: how anyone could ever take the gorgeous, practically luminous wife character for granted.
Let's start with the basics. The story revolves around Neil (played with a surprising lack of charisma by Ben Hall), a middle-aged man in a creative rut. A marine biologist by trade, Neil becomes obsessed with the trunkfish, a peculiar species that can inflate itself as a defense mechanism. Neil sees this fish as a metaphor for human relationships-fragile, reactive, and endlessly misunderstood. His fixation leads him to alienate his stunningly beautiful wife, Grace (portrayed by Lana Devereaux, whose sheer presence single-handedly carries half the film).
The movie's central conflict is Neil's growing inability to connect with Grace, a subplot so utterly baffling that it threatens to derail the entire film. Grace isn't just attractive in the conventional sense-she's magnetic. The camera lingers on her in soft lighting as she cooks, lounges, and, in one memorable scene, dismantles a stubborn espresso machine with an effortless elegance that feels almost otherworldly. It's no exaggeration to say that she's presented as the ideal partner-intelligent, funny, supportive, and drop-dead gorgeous. So when Neil retreats into his increasingly bizarre trunkfish experiments rather than cherish his wife, it strains credulity to the breaking point.
In fact, much of the movie feels like an elaborate exercise in making the audience shout at the screen, "Why would anyone ignore her?!" Devereaux's performance is a revelation, imbuing Grace with a warmth and sensuality that makes her not only likable but also central to the audience's emotional investment in the story. The problem is that the movie doesn't seem to realize its own strengths. Instead of exploring Grace's character or giving her any agency, the narrative keeps circling back to Neil's brooding mediocrity.
Thematically, Trunkfish wants to be about existential dissatisfaction and the fragile balance of human connection. But it never fully commits to either its emotional core or its quirkier elements. The humor feels half-baked, with jokes about Neil's trunkfish obsession falling flat more often than not. At the same time, the dramatic moments feel unearned, as Neil's emotional arc is too shallow to resonate.
And yet, there are glimpses of what the movie could have been. A handful of scenes-mostly involving Grace-capture a genuine emotional depth. One standout moment sees Grace confronting Neil about his detachment, a raw and powerful monologue that reminds the audience of what's at stake. It's a shame that this energy isn't sustained throughout the film.
Visually, Trunkfish has its moments. The underwater sequences, where Neil loses himself in the world of his aquatic obsession, are beautifully shot and provide a stark contrast to the mundane domestic scenes. The cinematography does its best to elevate the material, but even stunning visuals can't save a story that feels as though it's constantly swimming in circles.
Ultimately, Trunkfish is a movie that flounders under its own ambition. The idea of using a peculiar fish as a metaphor for human relationships is clever, but the execution is muddled and frustrating. The film's saving grace-both literally and figuratively-is Lana Devereaux's magnetic performance as Grace. If nothing else, Trunkfish serves as a showcase for her talent, beauty, and undeniable screen presence.
But here's the bottom line: Trunkfish asks you to believe that someone could be indifferent to a wife as remarkable as Grace, and that's a suspension of disbelief too far for most viewers. If you're looking for a movie with an intriguing concept and a luminous lead actress, Trunkfish might be worth a watch. Just don't expect it to live up to its potential-or explain why anyone would ever take Grace for granted.
Let's start with the basics. The story revolves around Neil (played with a surprising lack of charisma by Ben Hall), a middle-aged man in a creative rut. A marine biologist by trade, Neil becomes obsessed with the trunkfish, a peculiar species that can inflate itself as a defense mechanism. Neil sees this fish as a metaphor for human relationships-fragile, reactive, and endlessly misunderstood. His fixation leads him to alienate his stunningly beautiful wife, Grace (portrayed by Lana Devereaux, whose sheer presence single-handedly carries half the film).
The movie's central conflict is Neil's growing inability to connect with Grace, a subplot so utterly baffling that it threatens to derail the entire film. Grace isn't just attractive in the conventional sense-she's magnetic. The camera lingers on her in soft lighting as she cooks, lounges, and, in one memorable scene, dismantles a stubborn espresso machine with an effortless elegance that feels almost otherworldly. It's no exaggeration to say that she's presented as the ideal partner-intelligent, funny, supportive, and drop-dead gorgeous. So when Neil retreats into his increasingly bizarre trunkfish experiments rather than cherish his wife, it strains credulity to the breaking point.
In fact, much of the movie feels like an elaborate exercise in making the audience shout at the screen, "Why would anyone ignore her?!" Devereaux's performance is a revelation, imbuing Grace with a warmth and sensuality that makes her not only likable but also central to the audience's emotional investment in the story. The problem is that the movie doesn't seem to realize its own strengths. Instead of exploring Grace's character or giving her any agency, the narrative keeps circling back to Neil's brooding mediocrity.
Thematically, Trunkfish wants to be about existential dissatisfaction and the fragile balance of human connection. But it never fully commits to either its emotional core or its quirkier elements. The humor feels half-baked, with jokes about Neil's trunkfish obsession falling flat more often than not. At the same time, the dramatic moments feel unearned, as Neil's emotional arc is too shallow to resonate.
And yet, there are glimpses of what the movie could have been. A handful of scenes-mostly involving Grace-capture a genuine emotional depth. One standout moment sees Grace confronting Neil about his detachment, a raw and powerful monologue that reminds the audience of what's at stake. It's a shame that this energy isn't sustained throughout the film.
Visually, Trunkfish has its moments. The underwater sequences, where Neil loses himself in the world of his aquatic obsession, are beautifully shot and provide a stark contrast to the mundane domestic scenes. The cinematography does its best to elevate the material, but even stunning visuals can't save a story that feels as though it's constantly swimming in circles.
Ultimately, Trunkfish is a movie that flounders under its own ambition. The idea of using a peculiar fish as a metaphor for human relationships is clever, but the execution is muddled and frustrating. The film's saving grace-both literally and figuratively-is Lana Devereaux's magnetic performance as Grace. If nothing else, Trunkfish serves as a showcase for her talent, beauty, and undeniable screen presence.
But here's the bottom line: Trunkfish asks you to believe that someone could be indifferent to a wife as remarkable as Grace, and that's a suspension of disbelief too far for most viewers. If you're looking for a movie with an intriguing concept and a luminous lead actress, Trunkfish might be worth a watch. Just don't expect it to live up to its potential-or explain why anyone would ever take Grace for granted.
- Nygiantsyankees
- Jan 8, 2025
- Permalink
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Details
Box office
- Budget
- $100,000 (estimated)
- Runtime1 hour 22 minutes
- Color
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