Viv (Millie Rosse Evans) is gifted a beautiful guitar by her boyfriend Jay (Brent Michael). A guitar that will hopefully launch them to stardom and out of their small-town origins. Two years later, Viv is playing a show at a local club and struggling with addiction. In two years, Viv went from a hopeful songwriter to a performer needing a fix to get through a performance. What follows is a non-linear tapestry of emotional turmoil and paranoia as Withdrawal chronicles Viv’s life with heroin.
Viv and Jay dream of New York City and a new life. Their room, Roxy dies from an overdose, they’ve burned all their bridges with family, and they’ve tried every scam to get high. Despite big dreams, heroin continues to rule over the young couple. In the wake of Roxy’s death and Viv’s parents pushing for rehab, Viv and Jay make a pact to get clean. With their stash is gone, their resources depleted, the two sit in Viv’s apartment facing the pains of drug withdrawals in one hellish night.
Performances and casting for Withdrawal center around Evans and Michael as they explore the complex, anxiety-filled relationship between Viv and Jay. The two showcase a range of emotions, allowing the audience to feel the heightened panic of yearning for release from the anguish of withdrawal. Moments of dialogue are on the nose or rough in the early sections of the film. Still, writer and director Aaron Strand finds his groove in writing chaotic dialogue that showcases addiction at its worst. Strand’s indie sensibilities take over, allowing the performances to shine as the couple becomes more faded from who they once were.
Drugs, music, and art flood through Withdrawal as Strand draws some influences from 90s indie and 60s, Velvet Underground-esque heroin lore vibes. The film is experimental yet accessible, lending the non-linear narrative an extra edge. Withdrawal boasts some “Rebel Without a Crew”, Robert Rodriguez flair that die-hard indie fans will appreciate. It’s a bleak look at addiction, hitting the drug drama tropes hard. But maintains a true-to-life viewpoint on drug culture, giving it the heart of a documentary within the body of a narrative feature.
Withdrawal is a solid showcase of the Atlanta film scene in the 2020s. Strand and his cast’s efforts have made an experience primed for the festival circuit. Though not as stylish as Trainspotting or as dark as Requiem for a Dream, Withdrawal still is not for the faint of heart and still holds a place within the trove of heroin heavy films in 90s cinema. There’s a bit of Doug Lineman’s Go and more than a little modern indie influence, but the bulk of Withdrawal is a personal look at the ongoing opioid epidemic in the United States.
Themes of addiction, relationships, and darkness within the collision of addiction within a relationship give Withdrawal its soul. The title says everything about the film. It’s an artistic, gritty take on the paranoia, anxiety, anger, toxicity, pain, and gut-wrenching sickness lying in the path of heroin. Non-linear choices provide Strand with extra catharsis at the climax, allowing the narrative’s most prominent reveals to linger beyond the closing credits. While Withdrawal has its faults at times, it’s a dark and wild ride, begging audiences to examine addiction at the heart of those at its core.
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