Girl in the Refrigerator

When filmmakers abandon empathy, the art form devolves into empty spectacle. Roger Ebert once infamously referred to the medium of cinema as a “machine that generates empathy”. If he is to be believed, one could use film to invite an audience to empathise with even the cruelest of characters, such as Roy Batty in Blade Runner. We may not agree with him, but we certainly understand and empathise with his motivations. The same cannot be said for director J. Francis Juelkuvsky’s feature film Girl in the Refrigerator, a tale as visceral and horrific as the premise sounds. The film follows Cole who, after accidentally killing his on-and-off girlfriend of multiple years, attempts to hide his ex’s corpse inside a refrigerator.

Before we get into the nitty gritty of how this piece seems to be made in bad faith, it is only right to give credit where credit is due. The casting of Jimmy ‘Kash’ Bevetti in the role of Cole is a solid choice, with Bevetti bringing a charmingly oafish and likeable portrayal that is not present in any other aspect of this macabre character. James Ziolkowski’s writing features structurally witty dialogue, despite its oftentimes questionable content, with humorous callbacks throughout. The piece also features a very artful silent film sequence which is by far the best creative flourish the direction has to offer.

With all that said, audiences may find it challenging to get onboard with this film given both the protagonist and the filmmaker’s distinct lack of empathy. The first hint of this is in the choice to have ‘badass music’ play every time Cole is disposing of a body, but the most obvious is the sheer indifference presented by the central character and text. “I should’ve jerked off”, quips Cole after manslaughtering his ex-girlfriend in a sex-related incident. “Die you f***ing b**ch” he laughs whilst killing her again in a daydream, this time on purpose.

Another alarming factor of the film is its depiction of women, even besides its initial callous fridging (literally) of a female character. Viewers may be aware of the popular ‘Bechdel Test’. This test is a measure of female representation in fiction and film, proposing 3 simple rules in which to pass: The story has to feature at least two named women, they must talk to each other, and the discussion must be about anything besides a man. This feature fails on the two latter counts – but this is just the tip of the iceberg. Following Ellie’s demise (with the only justification that she deserved to die being based on the fact that her and Cole used to argue), Cole immediately moves on and falls in love with Shaina, who is conveyed to be unquestionably better for Cole than Ellie due to the fact that she enjoys everything he enjoys, such as silent movies, and is also completely nonchalant and credulous upon finding multiple dead bodies in his apartment. With no agency of her own and an unwarranted love and trust for Cole, one wouldn’t be surprised if she turned out to be a figment of his own imagination.

Despite clearly being written as a comedy, the vast amount of antipathy in the direction mixed with a screenplay that treats women more like commodities whose value can only be measured in sex and lack of dispute, Juelkuvsky’s Girl in the Refrigerator is likely to leave audiences alienated and disgusted, with the only minor consolation being that the ending suggests comeuppance for Cole. However every piece of art has its value, and this film will provide a fascinating case study and point of conversation for those exploring morbidity and the portrayal of women in cinema.