Balthazar (Jaeden Martell) isn’t very sincere. Our Hero, Balthazar‘s titular lead spends his days filming videos for social media. Here, he musters up tears and sobs about whatever headlines dominate the news. His insincere approach to these hot topics soars to the next level when he falls for Eleanor (Pippa Knowles). She actually does crusade for noble causes. Hoping to win her heart (despite her being adamant that she thinks he’s a creep), Balthazar takes under his wing a random Texan in his Instagram DM’s whose claimed he plans on shooting up a school.

The uber-wealthy Balthazar then hops onto a plane and bus for Fort Worth. Here, he hopes to convince a man named Solomon (Asa Butterfield) to abandon his bloody plans. In reality, Solomon isn’t a school shooter. However, he is a disturbed, cash-strapped individual desperate for a friend and the approval of his toxic father, Beaver (Chris Bauer). They come from opposite worlds, to say the least. However, these young men gradually find that they have more things in common than they’d expect. Specifically, they’re fond of firearms and confronting their issues in unhealthy fashions.

It’s no surprise Our Hero, Balthazar writer/director Oscar Boyson (who penned the script with Ricky Camilleri) previously produced indie titles like Good Time or the underrated 2022 wayward teenager feature Funny Pages. Boyson translates the uncomfortable yuks and unflinching depictions of unlikeable protagonists of his producing efforts into his feature-length directorial debut. He and Camilleri commit fully to making Our Hero, Balthazar’s world one where basically everyone on-screen is grifting.

New York politicians with hollow smiles are selling something. Outfits running school shooting simulations are profitting off of tragedies. Beaver makes his living selling testosterone powder junk. Only a handful of souls (like Eleanor) are exempt from this exploitative realm. This grim portrait of modern America produces several hearty, cringe-inducing laughs. Many stem from Balthazar’s amusing incompetence. This teenager can’t weave a lie or follow the simplest instructions without shattering. The dissonance between how he perceives himself and Balthazar crumbling the instant Solomon starts yelling at him is a fine source of grim comedy.

There’s also an admirable commitment to really going dark with this production. This is established early when Balthazar first talks to Eleanor while they’re both covered in simulated gunshot wounds and posing as corpses during a school shooting simulation. A pivotal set piece between Balthazar, Solomon, and Beaver in a bar, meanwhile, is full of cringe-inducing social awkwardness. Boyson’s camera makes the viewer feel like they’re trapped at this crusty tavern table, unable to escape all the creepy comments or uneasy familial connections.

That dedication to diving into the grimness includes not sanding off the edges off either Balthazar or Solomon as disturbed individuals. This is not a film declaring that only “economic anxiety” is fueling their jagged psyche’s. Instead, these are two men who bond over their frustrations that women don’t just roll over and immediately love them. School shooting footage sexually excites Balthazar while Solomon sees the lead character of a Danny Phantom TV show pastiche as more human than his neighbors. These qualities inspire gasp and cackle-inducing bleak comedy. They also provide a window into two disturbing psychologies.

Our Hero, Balthazar lures viewers in with uncomfortable yuks. It keeps your attention through providing a great showcase for its talented leads.  Asa Butterfield especially is unrecognizable as Solomon. While so many British performers struggle delivering Southern American accents, Butterfield’s vocals are as natural as his immensely believable physicality. Awkwardness and simmering rage against the world radiate off every inch of this man’s performance. This specificity doesn’t come through rendering Solomon an arch caricature, though. This Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children veteran instead defines his Balthazar character as someone discernibly real, which makes the role extra heartbreaking and chilling.

Our Hero, Balthazar works best as a showcase for strong acting and glib comedy confronting the dark void that is 21^st century cis-het white men under 30. It’s not quite as distinctive visually, though. Neither the straightforward, serviceable camerawork nor conventional imagery register as entirely specific to this story. That’s despite Balthazar’s two leads viewing the world through warped, internet-fueled prisms that could’ve informed more idiosyncratic visual impulses.  

These qualities especially underserve a climactic confrontation between Solomon and his father, which needed tenser, claustrophobic imagery to really live up to its full potential. There are also strange dangling threads in Balthazar’s personal Big Apple life needing either trimming or fleshing out. Noah Centenio, for instance, inexplicably shows up for a cameo as this troubled teen’s life coach. Jennifer Ehle as Balthazar’s mom, meanwhile, gives her all to a role that’s only fitfully well-written. Our Hero, Balthazar works best when it’s thriving on specificity. These elements, unfortunately, suffer from vagueness.

On the other hand, Boyson and Camilleri’s script is effective in keeping viewers uncertain where this warped story is going next. Chaotic unpredictability especially underpins the potentially blossoming friendship between Balthazar and Solomon. Can these two figures share a truly meaningful bond? Is it even good for them to be pals? These queries hover over Our Hero, Balthazar as it wrings memorably dark comedy from modern American society’s inescapable horrors (namely, school shootings and young men who are too online). Sometimes you have to laugh through the tears and fears, especially when you have quality grim giggles at your disposal.

Our Hero, Balthazar begins rolling out to theaters on March 27. It’ll expand into more locations in the weeks afterward.