Jimmy and Stiggs (2025) review

Publication Date: 08-17-2025

Dir. Joe Begos

By: Steve Pulaski

Rating: ★★½

My lukewarm feelings about Joe Begos’ Jimmy and Stiggs aside for a moment, I just want to express how much I love the concept of Eli Roth’s new studio and distribution process. In effort to bring more people into the theaters, Roth took it upon himself to meet with decision-makers for national theater chains, like AMC, Cinemark, and Marcus, to encourage them to take flyers on “extreme horror” flicks that he would acquire. The idea was these micro-budget, gruesome films made for shoestring budgets could enjoy a theatrical experience instead of being relegated to the ocean-deep pool of VOD entertainment.

Roth’s studio, The Horror Section, is why Jimmy and Stiggs is in theaters this weekend. It’s also why preceding the film, in its limited theatrical engagement, are a couple of fake, Grindhouse-style trailers for movies like “The Piano Killer” and “Don’t Go in That House, Bitch,” the latter co-opted by Snoop Dogg, who also leads a post-trailer “singalong.” This is the kind of experience that should be offered when seeing films in theaters, and it’s heartwarming to hear so many major theater chains were immediately on board with Roth’s concept. Horror fans are among the most loyal and passionate group of movie-fans. Every one of them should support Roth’s efforts by prioritizing these releases in the future.

Onto the movie itself. Harboring “Eli Roth Presents” as part of its title (at the theaters’ behest), Jimmy and Stiggs is another anarchic, neon-drenched effort from Begos that echoes early Peter Jackson. My introduction to Begos was Christmas Bloody Christmas in 2022, and I was captivated by its gleefully bloody and flamboyant exercise in Santasploitation. It didn’t dawn on me until the opening minutes of this film that I didn’t know what Begos looked like. The answer is a cross between Joe Frantz and Rob Zombie, with a long, flowing locks and a gangly beard.

Begos plays Jimmy, who overloads himself on booze, weed, and cocaine, something that has caused a riff with his best friend and frequent collaborator, Stiggs (Matt Mercer). The two haven’t spoken in months. Jimmy and Stiggs is confined to Jimmy’s apartment, in which he drowns himself in whiskey following another rejection from a studio. We see this down-spiral in the first person, which culminates with literal aliens coming down, infiltrating his humble abode, and possibly possessing him. There’s no way to hide it. Jimmy needs Stiggs’ help in more ways than one.

After numerous texts and calls go unanswered, Stiggs shows up at Jimmy’s place, and the two launch themselves into a drug-and-alcohol fueled spiral in their quest to defeat the “melonheads” that have zeroed in on Jimmy as their next victim. Jimmy has frantically scoured the internet for information about alien abductions, so we know he’s an expert. The aliens can impact humans’ jawlines, which causes extreme pain, and alcohol keeps the extraterrestrials at bay. Jimmy has no problem sucking down a bottle of Johnnie Walker Red… “Patch,” so this is hardly an inconvenience. As such, the one-setting film confines us to the apartment as Jimmy and Stiggs bicker, fight amongst themselves, use the word “fuck” and its many variations at least a couple hundred times, and battle the occasional alien that reveals itself.

In sometimes making our perspective Jimmy’s very own, and confining us to a singular location, Begos forces the audience to succumb to Jimmy’s worldview, which is one, long downward spiral into hell. When Jimmy and Stiggs successfully attack the aliens, they spurt neon-colored blood in what becomes a defining trait of the film. This is one wet movie, in the best possible way. Hundreds of gallons of DayGlo paint had to be used for this flick, and that’s not giving necessary credit to the blacklights and fluorescent fixtures that help highlight the Jackson Pollock-adjacent sets. The amount of sticky paint and goo that sticks to Begos’ beard is a sight unto itself. It recalls the liberal uses of blood and splatter effects employed by the aforementioned Jackson and Raimi in films like Dead Alive and The Evil Dead, respectively.

Begos’ 16mm filmstock coupled with his proclivity for neon yellows, bubblegum pinks, and midnight blues all fuel this nightmare into being something both disarming and revolting. The dialog, however, is mostly useless. If someone cared enough, their time counting the uses of “fuck,” or some variation, could make the film earn its place on one of my favorite lists on Wikipedia. Begos commits to bludgeoning you with chaos in the visual department, and does the same too, with exchanges between him and Stiggs (or simply by himself) amounting to nothing more than an assortment of curse words and fragmented exclamations.

The end result is one that’s liable to wear you down after a while. Jimmy and Stiggs is one of the longest 80-minute movies I’ve ever seen, and while it has style points, and a gleeful unpredictability in plot, structure, and even perspective, it’s also exhausting. Begos doesn’t appear motivated to examine Jimmy and Stiggs’ friendship, nor can he be bothered to go beyond the muck and deliver something a bit more external, or cater to the fears of his audience. As a result, this feels like a movie destined to play in the background of parties or social gatherings, with its inspiring imagery occasionally drawing stares and amusement, but leaving little else substantive enough to warrant a lasting impression.

NOTE: Last year, I had the privilege of interviewing Eli Roth two different times. We talked about Thanksgiving, a potential sequel, The Green Inferno, his love for horror, and a slew of other topics. Take a listen to those interviews below!