Considering the current political situation, it's not too much of a stretch to imagine a world where the Cold War never stopped, and where at one point it turned 'hot' enough for a nuclear bomb to fall, in this case on USSR-controlled Kazakstan. Years later, in this alternative history's 2004, the region around ground zero is tightly controlled by Soviet and American forces, who nonetheless are allowing a small crew from the media outlet Kalamazoo Herald to do what is planned as a tightly-controlled visit. The owner of the Herald, however, has other plans, and an ace up his sleeve.
Swedish filmmaking duo Pella Kågerman and Hugo Lilja gained attention with their first feature Aniara, about a spaceship doomed to wander the stars. In their second feature, they adapt, or perhaps to be a little more accurate, interpret the science fiction novel by Arno Schmidt. A world of controversial artists, conspiracies, human-animal mutants, and a whole lot of alcohol and drugs, Egghead Republic is a bonkers ride that wants its audiences to constantly be asking themselves, 'wtf is happening', and it succeeds.
Into the Kalamazoo Herald one day walks Sonja Schmidt (Ella Rae Rappaport), an aspiring illustrator who has accepted an unpaid internship. Young enough to think she can ride out this lack of salary as an opportunity for exposure, what she thinks is a chance to gain prominence as an illustrator turns out to be a ploy by the media outlet's very rich and obnoxious owner, Dino Davis (Tyler Labine), to use her status as the great-niece of Nobel-prize-winning author Arno Schmidt, to get into IRAS, the institute set up at the edge of the Kazakstan radiation zone. The artist-in-residence is a cult figure and devotee of Schmidt, and Sonja is Dino's ticket inside.
And if he can also ply her young body with alcohol and drugs and take advantage, well, he is a very important man, so he says. So with his golden boy cinematographer Turan (Arvin Kananian), another young woman cinematographer (and someone else to grab) Gemma, Dino takes Sonja to the nuclear wasteland. Like any young person, Sonja thinks she can handle it, even as it's clear she is much out of her depth and has no idea how ruthless and predatory Dino is.
These are still somewhat the early, wild west days of internet media. When people like Dino though that being cutting edge, working against the traditional media and finding the truth in counter-culture, meant drinking, snorting coke, forcing women into bed, and investigating apparent government cover-ups of centaurs roaming the plains of Central Asia. It's not surprising to discover that part of this is based on Kågerman's own experience working at Vice. In an unhinged yet pitch-perfect performance, Labine's Dino is only somewhat interested in actual news, on more focused on making sure he has enough vodka and pretty ladies around him, with a camera to keep him in focus as the King of his little domain.
Rappaport also delivers a pitch-perfect performance, as the naive Sonja, who inspires both exacerbation and pangs of protective desire. Anyone who has ever had a boss manipulate our good will and desire for success will want to yell at her through the screen as fast as she can. But scene by scene, Sonja starts to figure it out; not without disappointment, but the game that Dino gets her to play, she learns the moves and she's finding a way to outplay him.
Kågerman and Lilja walk a fine line between realistic and bizarre: some eccentric artists probably would think he could be inspired by living next to a radiation zone (though doubtful any government would let him). And some governments probably would think a wall would keep out unwanted visitors, but not believe gonzo journalists would try to escape their planned tour in a disaster zone. This barren region, shot with an eye for both its beauty and danger by cinematographer Malin Gutke, lends itself as a blank slate onto which the story and characters can live out their every drug-fueled fantasy and nightmare, their dreams of media domination and power, or maybe just a decent job.
It's not hard to proverbial shake our heads about the unforced errors of the military escorts or the ridiculous risks Dino forces his team to take, but it's also not hard to enjoy the ride. Egghead Republic is a ride that will make you wonder if you took drugs before sitting in the cinema (or maybe if you should have), its humour definitely taking a dark and fantastical bent as it makes us feel discomfort, bemusement, and befuddlement.