Written & Directed By: John Trengove 

Cinematography: Wyatt Garfield 

Editor: Julie Monroe and Matthew Swanepoel

Cast: Jesse Eisenberg, Adrien Brody, Ethan Suplee, Odessa Young, Lamar Johnson, Philip Ettinger, Sallieu Sesay, Evan Jongigent, Caleb Eberhardt 

Conflicted about his girlfriend’s pregnancy, Ralphie’s life spirals out of control when he meets a mysterious family of men.

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Manodrome is a film with a cast far too good for the material they’re strapped to. What begins as though it might tackle the incel phenomenon, the so-called male-loneliness epidemic, or even the seductive pull of male-only cults, quickly turns into a character study of a protagonist we’re never truly allowed to know. Instead of insight, we get glimpses, most of them involving Jesse Eisenberg screaming or pumping iron under red-headed territory. so glaring it almost feels like an emotional shortcut. Are we supposed to feel sympathetic simply because he’s a ginger giant now?

The film flirts with psychological depth but never commits. It gestures toward big themes: masculinity vs. femininity, queer repression, emotional stunting in men, but abandons each just as quickly. There are moments where it feels like the film might actually be about a closeted man’s struggle for comfort in his own skin; then it swerves back into gym-bro asceticism. It raises the question of what the film thinks its own subject is: toxic masculinity, queer panic, vulnerability, male bonding, or just the world’s most intense Fitness recruitment video?

Eisenberg’s character seems written as a case study in emotional volatility, desperate for attention, terrified of receiving it, pushing away anyone who offers care, and ultimately betrayed by the one person he lets in. But because the script avoids true psychological exploration, these behaviors drift into abstraction. They happen, but they’re never grounded. We observe him, but we’re not invited to understand him.

Technically, the film is competent sometimes striking. The cinematography aims for a chilly, Lanthimos-adjacent precision, but without the thematic or tonal control to justify the comparison. Scenes play out with an almost clinical frankness, hinting at a sharper, more daring film beneath the surface. 

You can’t help but wonder what Manodrome might have become under the guidance of a director truly adept at blending psychological discomfort with stylistic purpose. Yorgos Lanthimos comes to mind simply because he excels at exactly the things this movie only imitates.

Meanwhile, the supporting cast feels underused. Adrien Brody, who once won an Oscar for throwing himself into the void emotionally, seems here to be collecting an easy paycheck. Eisenberg, a former nominee himself, does admirable work inside a role that ultimately gives him little to explore besides a ringtone so annoying you begin to suspect it’s the film’s real antagonist.

Every twenty minutes the movie seems to reinvent itself, without ever improving. The plot wanders, the tone shifts, and by the end you’re not sure the film knows what it wanted to be in the first place. For all its supposed psychological weight, Manodrome proves surprisingly hollow, a film that demands interpretation but offers little reward for the effort.

these are some of the thoughts I had while watching the film…

It would be brilliant if this whole man cult plan was just a financial scheme to build a members only gym

I don’t know if it’s the movie or how many times we hear it. Jesse Eisenberg’s character has the most annoying ringtone 

In the end, it’s a puzzle that doesn’t feel worth solving. You’re free to skip it; you won’t be missing anyone’s best or even notable work.

Grade: D+