Tin Can, a Canadian sci-fi horror film that wrapped in 2020 was a little too prescient – depicting a global pandemic sending the world into a panic might have been just a little too on the nose, although it has done well on the festival circuit and now, in 2022, is moving into general release in North America.

The film depicts a fungus known as “Coral,” which slowly encloses its victims in a shell before cutting off blood, oxygen, and the world, resulting in death. The government, in its wisdom, takes the early infected and places them within individual metallic containment pods, the “tin cans” of the title. The poor simply die, but if you have enough money on hand, you can go to The Vault and be put into a tin can until a cure can be discovered. Moving back and forth on the timeline, we enter this world through Fret (Anna Hopkins), a scientist working on Coral who comes to The Vault to see if she can sever fungus and skin as a kind of cure. Her ex-husband John (Simon Mutabazi), whom we see cheating on her as she works overtime to stop the disease, is scheduled to be placed inside a pod and put to sleep to curb his rapidly advancing disease. However, Fret is knocked out and placed in a tin can as well.

Almost the entire first half of the film (except for flashbacks) is told from inside Fret’s pod. She communicates with the other pod people who have begun to wake up to find themselves not cured and trapped inside their respective tin cans. While many praise the film as being a claustrophobic journey, it seems like her pod is just a little too big to be truly oppressive. The film thus revolves around a slow process of discovery for both Fret and the audience as she slowly, ever so slowly, begins to make sense of the situation she finds herself in and escape the pod. The other individuals around her, Whistler (Tim Dunn), John, Darcy (Amy Trefry), and Wayne (the always-welcome Michael Ironside) are all knowledgeable experts in their own right and form a group of possibly helpful, possibly sinister individuals also seeking escape and information.

The second half of Tin Can entails what happens once Fret exits her tin can and discovers a world of fungus, metal, and terrifying sounds. The second half, when she is out of the pod, is almost more claustrophobic than when Fret was in it.

Make no mistake – this is a slow burn sci-fi horror film. Smith takes his time having Fret remove all the tubes and IVs that kept her in stasis and alive in the pod, and we see (and almost feel) each one come out. The film is visceral, but its slow pace begins to wear quickly. Shades of early David Cronenberg-style body horror combined with sociophobics echo throughout Tin Can, especially towards the end. The film reverberates with his gross-out-meets-existential-dread vibe. It is a phantasmagorical ride, but one that goes slow enough for you to see all the individual moments of horror. If you like your horror slow and visceral, welcome home. If you need something more dynamic and fast-paced, find a different pod.

7 out of 10