The Ranger is a 2018 horror film about teen punks on the run from the cops and hiding out in the woods, who come up against the local authority – an unhinged park ranger with an axe to grind.
The 80s have taken on a kind of cosmic sensationalism where rose-colored nostalgia has made the decade a tad overly-romanticized. As such, many trendy films have taken to traveling back with a distorted if not loving layer of homage to these curious years, including now Jenn Wexler‘s feature film debut The Ranger, a blisteringly audacious nod to the era that is hyper-stylized with great intent. It’s not entirely original, loaded for bear with all the standards, even if they are dressed in different colors, but it does feature a new kind of killer and if anything, has its motivations in the right place.
Chelsea (Chloe Levine) is a punk girl with dyed pink curly hair, Army boots, and a studded leather jacket. Her friends, including obnoxious boyfriend Garth (Granit Lahu), are over-the-top punk anarchists, hooked on drugs and living for chaos. This leads them to a tussle with the police, leaving her standing over a stabbed cop and the gang now on the run. They head up to a cabin in the woods where Chelsea’s uncle used to live before he was killed, apparently by wolves, though there is some doubt to the story. Then there is the park ranger (Jeremy Holm), who Chelsea already met as a child, and with whom the gang have a bit of a run-in just before heading up the mountain. When he recognizes Chelsea, he sets off a plan to make life in the woods not so fun, putting the kids in a run for their lives.
You’re thinking this all sounds rather familiar and you’re not wrong. A group of misfit party kids in the woods hunted by a slasher-esque madman is the very foundation of a genre that got its start in the years this movie takes place. Certainly, that’s half the plan here, though Wexler, who co-wrote the story with Giaco Furino tones it done a bit, with no sex, nudity, or copious quantities of typical bloody gore (even if there are few gooey bits). It’s sort of a black comedy poking a little fun at the tropes while rigorously holding onto them.
That comes mostly at hands of The Ranger, a glib psycho with penchant for reciting park regulations with an acerbic nonchalance as he dispatches victims. Holm plays him with a creepy sort of mix between the fictional Michael Myers and the great Patrick Warburton, giving the film some hokey horror fun, though it’s Levine who holds up her end of the deal best. She’s got these big, bright eyes that lure us right into the damaged girl she is, making it all the more easy to get behind her struggle.
That’s also part of the problem because Chelsea’s literally the only character in the entire story who isn’t someone you want to punch in the face. It’s hard to feel sympathy for someone when they are genuinely, aggressively awful, even when they get caught in a rusty bear trap and are hunted by a maniac with shotgun. Fans of the genre are surely going find some appeal, and there’s no doubt Wexler has promise, however, ultimately, The Ranger is all but been-there-done-that.