Hot Mess

Hot Mess, the feature film debut from Sydney based writer–director Lucy Coleman, is a grungy, no-filter Aussie comedy about the all too familiar anxieties of being in your mid-twenties. It explores the youthful and sardonic angst of figuring out how to be an adult in a dog-eat-dog world, and the dampening frustration of not knowing what the future holds, especially when you thought you knew it all.

Actor and comedian Sarah Gaul is 25-year-old Loz. Still living with her parents and working a mindless day job, Loz is struggling to make it as the successful writer she knows she’s meant to be. She’s seemingly lost the motivation and determination she had as an idealistic young woman, and though she’s still passionate about becoming a profitable playwright in Sydney’s theatre scene, she finds herself overwhelmed and buried under the pressures of what it really takes to be a proper grown up. As success slowly reveals itself to be more difficult to reach than anticipated, her verve dissipates and the anxiety of an uncertain future consumes her. She finds light-hearted solace in her untroubled, sexually liberated friend Gen (Julia Robertson), and accompanies her to a house party. Here she meets Dave (Marshall Campbell), and the two of them hit it off, sparking Loz to become exasperatingly and gratuitously obsessed with him. While she’s busy pining over text messages and boring her friends to death, her life continues to unravel around her.

Despite the initial chemistry between them, awkward and emotionally lopsided interactions between Loz and Dave reach comical heights, and it becomes hard to determine which one is more clueless than the other. Through it all, true intentions are revealed and Loz inevitably has to face her real issues. Though the humour in her character stems from her naivety and entitlement (she is, after all, a 25-year-old educated white woman living in the heart of Sydney), the difficulties she encounters are an apt commentary on the relatable pressures of living in a capitalist society, particularly as a woman, and through the sharp comedy of the film, the message rings true. 

Hot Mess is rooted in a raw and naturalistic vibe, and exhibits many of the endearing qualities of Mumblecore, a sub-genre of film characterised by low budget production, dialogue over plot, and the micro-level issues of young people in their twenties and thirties. Each character in Hot Mess is definitely someone we’ve all met before, and the party scenes are so quintessentially Australian that it’s cringe worthy, like watching yourself in your worst moments (e.g. clutching an aluminium goon sack and arguing around a plastic outdoor setting in a concrete backyard at 3am). However, Hot Mess has a fiery humour and brazen tone that gives it an innovative uniqueness.

It’s always a delight to encounter a new work from a contemporary woman in the arts, particularly when it’s as bold, brassy and courageous as Hot Mess.

Hot Mess 
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