The Bad Batch (2016) is a dystopian romance thriller directed by Ana Lily Amirpour, blending surreal visuals with a brutal tale of survival. Set in a near-future America, the film opens by dropping viewers into a desert wasteland where society’s outcasts are abandoned to fend for themselves. This “bad batch” of people includes criminals, misfits, and anyone deemed unworthy, left to struggle in a lawless landscape where violence and hunger dictate the rules of existence.
The story centers on Arlen, played by Suki Waterhouse, a young woman cast out into the desert after being tattooed with her identification number. Almost immediately, she is captured by a community of cannibals led by the enigmatic Miami Man, portrayed by Jason Momoa. After suffering horrific loss and mutilation, Arlen manages to escape and find refuge in a bizarre settlement known as Comfort, where eccentric figures promise safety and a semblance of order, though at a steep cost.
Comfort, led by the mysterious figure known as The Dream, played by Keanu Reeves, represents a twisted version of society, where drugs, parties, and devotion to The Dream replace genuine freedom. Arlen, traumatized and seeking identity, finds herself torn between this strange sanctuary and the raw brutality of the desert. Her path crosses again with Miami Man, but instead of pure hostility, a fragile bond begins to develop, forcing her to question her perceptions of morality, love, and survival.
Their relationship becomes the emotional heart of the story, as two broken souls from opposite sides of violence find connection in a place that seems devoid of humanity. Arlen’s compassion for Miami Man’s daughter adds further complexity, blurring the line between enemy and ally, predator and protector. The harshness of the world constantly threatens to rip them apart, but their growing connection becomes a symbol of resilience.
Visually, The Bad Batch is striking, relying on haunting desert imagery, grotesque violence, and moments of unexpected beauty. The atmosphere is deliberately unsettling, creating a dreamlike quality where every decision feels both surreal and deadly serious. The pacing is slow and hypnotic, immersing audiences in a world that is as mesmerizing as it is disturbing.
Ultimately, the film is less about survival in a physical sense and more about survival of the human spirit. The Bad Batch challenges viewers to confront questions of morality, redemption, and love in a world where civilization has collapsed. It is both brutal and strangely tender, a unique meditation on finding humanity in the harshest of places.
