X (2022) Review
Director: Ti West
Screenwriter: Ti West
Starring: Mia Goth, Jenna Ortega, Martin Henderson, Brittany Snow, Owen Campbell, Stephen Ure, Scott Mescudi
In the season premiere episode of the podcast “You Must Remember This: Erotic 80s”, host Karina Longworth argues that sex and violence have long been intertwined in Hollywood storytelling. When erotic thrillers faded from mainstream cinemas, horror emerged as the genre most able to combine sexual themes with physical danger. Ti West’s X arrives firmly within that space, set in rural Texas in 1979 and centered on a small crew attempting to shoot an adult film. The premise suggests a fertile ground for exploring the cultural shifts of the late 1970s: the loosening of old studio constraints, the rise of an X-rated market, and the uneasy cultural negotiations around sex on screen. Yet while the film nods toward that context, it rarely digs beneath the surface.
West’s screenplay introduces a group of young filmmakers who travel to a remote farm to shoot what they believe will be a provocative and profitable adult movie. The early scenes are the strongest in the film: the ensemble cast is lively, characters feel distinct, and the dynamics among the actors generate both tension and humor. Brittany Snow’s Bobby-Lynn brings a bright, comic energy that anchors much of the first act, while Jenna Ortega’s Lorraine emerges as a key figure whose ambitions and vulnerability provoke conflict within the group. The setup promises a collision between youthful aspiration and the moral realities of a conservative, aging community.
Disappointingly, the film does not fully confront the era’s thornier issues. A potentially rich thread—the racialized fetishization evident in the film-within-the-film, which centers on two white women and a Black man—goes largely unexplored. Given the setting in the American South and the period’s charged racial dynamics, leaving that aspect unexamined feels like a missed opportunity to engage with how sex, power, and race intersected on and off screen in the late 1970s.
Interpersonal conflicts among the filmmakers are often more compelling than the horror they encounter. An early confrontation involving Lorraine and her boyfriend RJ exposes hypocrisy and male possessiveness, but the film treats this episode more as a plot device than a sustained critique. West seems more interested in pivoting the narrative toward an unexpected source of dread: aging, loneliness, and the terror of becoming invisible. When the group arrives at the farmhouse owned by Howard and his wife Pearl, the film’s focus shifts. Howard and Pearl—played by Stephen Ure and Mia Goth—are portrayed with a degree of humanity and sympathy that complicates them as simple antagonists.
Mia Goth’s dual performance is the film’s most striking element. Playing both the elderly Pearl and a younger, unnerving presence named Maxine, Goth delivers scenes that are haunting and emotionally resonant. The prosthetic makeup that transforms her into an older woman is effective and at times grotesque, reinforcing the movie’s core theme: terror rooted in the fear of aging and fading desire. The interactions between Goth’s two characters—whenever both are present—are the film’s most provocative and memorable moments, elevating what could have been a straightforward slasher into something more psychologically driven.
However, the film’s momentum falters once the killings begin. The second half accelerates into a series of violent set pieces that, while serviceable, lack the inventiveness fans of the slasher genre often expect. West stages the deaths with efficiency, but the swift succession of kills and the comparatively thin exploration of motive reduce the impact of the violence. What starts as a character-focused drama about creative ambition and generational fear becomes, by the final act, a more conventional exercise in shock and spectacle.
Still, X earns credit for nuance where it chooses to be nuanced. West allows Howard and Pearl moments of empathy; he gives his ensemble cast breathing room in the film’s first half to develop vivid personalities; and he grants Mia Goth the space to deliver a performance that lingers after the credits. The movie’s final sequence packs a punch, and it promises continued exploration of these characters in subsequent installments. For viewers who watch both this film and its companion piece—where character origins are more fully addressed—the narrative payoff is stronger.
In the end, X is a film of contrasts: engaging in its interpersonal drama and lead performances, tentative in its cultural interrogation, and uneven in its handling of genre expectations. It offers moments of originality and power, particularly through Goth’s dual roles, but it also avoids the deeper social questions its premise raises. As a watching experience it is worthwhile, especially for fans of its cast and period mood, though it stops short of the ambitious commentary it seems poised to deliver.
Score: 14/24
