Premiering at SXSW 2026, Bagworm is the type of movie viewers will instantly recognize as unique. It doesn’t just play with the idea of an oddball sense of humor or genuinely strange yet intentional storytelling; it fully commits to both. For some, that commitment will be welcome, while others may find it eye-rolling—such is the nature of comedy. The team behind Bagworm clearly understands that their film won’t appeal to everyone, and rather than dumbing their ideas down to meet the desires of the masses, they lean into them. The result is a film likely to yield divisive reactions among audiences; some will revel in its uniqueness, while others may be utterly repulsed.

Bagworm follows Carroll (Peter Falls), a man who recently broke up with his long-term girlfriend and now finds his life unraveling in almost every aspect. To make matters worse, he steps on a rusty nail, which exacerbates his problems and makes everything (somehow) even worse. It’s part black comedy, part body horror, and a film that comments on the role toxic masculinity plays in modern society.

What’s likely to be the major point of contention among those for and against Bagworm is its humor. The film immediately establishes a very specific comedic voice, one that thrives on making audiences uncomfortable. For example, Carroll goes on a series of dates with women he meets on dating apps and, rather than presenting his authentic self, essentially decides to play someone else entirely. This makes for awkward moments as he’s confronted about his deception—moments that may be funny to some but more cringeworthy to others. Ultimately, the humor lands more often than it doesn’t, a testament to the precision of director Oliver Bernsen in his feature film debut.

Hindering Bagworm is its unevenness. The first act moves incredibly slowly, and the film more generally takes its time establishing tone, character, and the odd world in which the story takes place. At times, this approach feels meandering until the plot fully kicks into gear. The film circles its ideas without always committing to forward momentum, leaving it reliant on its lead performance to prevent disengagement.

Playing Carroll, Peter Falls carries the responsibility of turning these awkward moments into something humorous rather than off-putting, all while making the audience sympathize with a character who is, at times, very questionable. Falls gives a relatively subtle performance but brings enough energy to command the audience’s attention during the film’s bigger swings. He treats every date with a new woman and every interaction with a random stranger as an opportunity to portray Carroll as emotionally real yet deeply disturbed—the anchor that keeps the film grounded. Falls delivers the kind of performance that quietly holds everything together. It’s a grounding turn in a movie that especially needs one. Without Falls, Bagworm may crumble under its own desire for uniqueness.

Once the film finds its footing and the rusty nail becomes central to the story, Bagworm begins to strengthen its hold on the viewer. The humor gains purpose as the narrative becomes more assured in its direction. Rather than leaning into familiar comedic tropes, Bagworm relies on the development of Carroll to carry the film forward. It’s less interested in twists and turns than it is in atmosphere and character, and that focus ultimately pays off.

By the time Bagworm concludes, it feels less like a traditional movie and more like a sensory experience unlike any other. It’s occasionally messy yet self-assured and unapologetically strange, embracing its own weirdness rather than adhering to conformity. Bagworm isn’t trying to be universally loved, and that may be its greatest strength.