Get your head out of your ass to un-fuck life.

I spent a relaxing NYE weekend at a NorCal hippie hot springs retreat center. One night during my stay, they screened an eccentric indie film called Unidentified Objects. It follows Peter, a gay little person, who is reluctantly dragged on a road trip by his neighbor Winona, an OnlyFans model who believes a UFO will pick her up from Canada. It’s not an A24 film, but it has major A24 vibes, and at times, I thought it might be too strange, even for me.

What I initially assumed would be a preachy mid-2010s Tumblr-style political statement turned out to be a thought-provoking character study. Peter is understandably bitter about the world, and it’s easy to empathize with his many struggles. However, after the first hour, he becomes unbearably annoying. He’s bitter, wallows in self-pity, and is patronizing. The cringiest thing? He carries around an Anton Chekhov book as a prop to affirm his intelligence.

I won’t spoil the film, but there’s a part where a third character remarks that Anton Chekhov’s characters “can’t get their heads out of their asses to unfuck their lives.” It’s on the nose, but it’s the film's point—and it resonated with me.

I often find myself contorting into mental loops that feel impossible to escape when the easy solution might have been to stop overthinking and take action. I’m sure many of you can relate. The film was interesting, and I appreciated its portrayal of people with very atypical identities as flawed, complex humans.