Written, directed, and edited by James Schroeder, Nicole (2020) is smartly written horror-comedy goodness, the kind that delivers its punchlines without going for the easy jokes or making a slap-sticky mess out of blood and guts. Nicole will get into your heart and then carve it out of your chest with its biting social commentary, a strong female leading, and artistic sensibilities that wonderfully depict the melancholy of existence as a modern single woman.

James Schroeder builds his movie around a tragically flawed protagonist named Nicole (Tamika Shannon), a woman bogged down by the emotional toll of losing both of her loving parents, an event that caused her to develop a severe drinking problem in order to cope with everyday life. Through the fog of flashbacks and hallucinations that she also uses to cope with her loss, Nicole manages to set up a date with a charming man named John (Stephen Wesley Green), who she agrees to meet at a bar for drinks. After getting to know each other over the course of the night, Nicole and John both find that their date is capable of a lot more than expected.

Nicole was a pleasant surprise to every sense — I enjoyed seeing how the film was mostly in black and white but made the artistic choice to have some scenes in color to visually discern reality from irreality, I can still hear the sawing of bones ringing in my ear, every time the protagonist gripped her weapon of choice I could feel the tension tighten around me, and I could practically taste the metallic flavor of the blood let loose from the limbs of the deserving victim. Even without color, the film was very immersive by taking the time to flesh out each character, rendering me hopelessly invested in the emotions and outcome of the characters’ doomed date.

What I loved most about Nicole is how fearlessly the plot thickens with blood; it is so unexpected and not even visually displayed, but even the implication of blood and guts achieved by Tamika’s killer body acting and the sound effects that suggest that body parts are being lopped off was enough to paint a bloody scene. Before the film crescendos into its more violent affairs, writer James Schroeder is careful to first imbue the film with background and substance, which for the protagonist, is steeped in pain and anguish from feeling alone. Starring actress Tamika Shannon is given heavy subject matter to work with, and in my opinion, she beautifully bared the burden of thoughtfully and earnestly depicting mental issues like alcoholism and depression.

Nicole‘s protagonist, villain, and storyline all grew on me as the film progressed — it may feel like a slow burner, but it definitely begins to boil after the backstories are out of the way. Throughout the film, the audience is given comedic relief from the villain, as well as quite poignant and sentimental moments with Nicole’s parents, making the film a rollercoaster of vibes that lead to an ending that was pretty Lynchian-esque, using happy visuals on the surface while hiding something sinister just behind the curtain. This project fits perfectly in the contemporary zeitgeist that has the #MeToo movement and topics of consent and violating women’s personal agency at the forefront of conversation, and Nicole is a great conversation starter in this regard.

6.9 out of 10