Bad Haircut — The Haircut Nobody Asked For and the Cinema Nobody Deserves

American indie cinema has a glorious tradition of high-concept disasters. From the nightmares of Ed Wood to the monstrosities of Uwe Boll, there’s something perversely fascinating about watching a handful of brave—or reckless—souls cannonball into an empty pool, convinced their vision deserves immortality on celluloid. Kyle Misak, a director who’d hitherto floated in the shallow waters of shorts and the odd TV gig, evidently decided it was time to dive into feature filmmaking with Bad Haircut. The result is as predictable as a The Walking Dead season finale: a mishmash of clichés, uneven performances, and cinematography that looks like it was lifted from a YouTube tutorial for beginners. But hey, at least he tries. Or so we’d like to believe—otherwise, this stings even by Acid Clapperboard standards, where cynicism is currency and patience a luxury we can no longer afford.

The premise of Bad Haircut—because yes, there is a premise, though good luck finding it beneath the filler—seems plucked from a 90s screenwriting manual: a guy with a questionable haircut gets tangled in a web of revenge, drugs, and betrayal in a working-class neighborhood that reeks of cheap beer and despair. Misak, who also penned the script, demonstrates an unholy love for dialogue that sounds like a bad stand-up joke and an alarming inability to craft characters who aren’t cardboard cutouts. We weren’t expecting an existential treatise à la David Lynch, but when even the supporting cast looks like it was plucked from a Rob Zombie extra call, something’s rotten. The problem isn’t that Bad Haircut is bad—cinema’s littered with bad movies that, at the very least, have the decency to be entertaining—but that it’s boring. So boring that even Jake Busey, an actor who usually devours scenes like a shark in a fish tank, looks like he’s fighting narcolepsy between takes.

The industrial context of this film is as revealing as it is depressing. Throwback Pictures, the production company behind this abomination, has a track record that oscillates between forgettable and downright embarrassing. Their motto seems to be: “If you can’t make it good, at least make it cheap and fast.” And boy, do they deliver. Bad Haircut reeks of low budget like a teenager reeks of cheap cologne: with an intensity that borders on offensive. Money isn’t everything in cinema—God knows some of history’s greatest films were made on shoestring budgets and a prayer—but when the lack of resources is painfully obvious in every frame, every clunky transition, and every sound effect that sounds like it was recorded with a toy microphone, the experience becomes agonizing. Misak tries to compensate for the lack of means with a gritty aesthetic that channels 70s hood thrillers, but all he achieves is making the film look like a The Asylum mockbuster directed by a first-year film student who just discovered Pulp Fiction.

And then there’s the title. Bad Haircut. A name that promises more than it delivers, like a fast-food menu with photos that bear no resemblance to the actual meal. Is it a metaphor? A statement of intent? Or just the result of a brainstorming session where someone piped up, “Hey, what if we call it Bad Haircut? That sounds cool.” The truth is, the title is the most interesting thing about the movie—at least it invites speculation. Does it refer to the protagonist’s haircut? The plot, which feels like it was trimmed with garden shears? Or is it a metaphor for the film industry itself, which increasingly resembles a drunk barber wielding dull scissors? We’ll never know, because Misak doesn’t bother exploring any of these possibilities. Instead, he gifts us an hour and change—or however long it is, because the runtime is a mystery—of characters who drift in and out of scenes without leaving a mark, dialogue that sounds like a self-parody, and an ending so algorithmically designed to please everyone that it pleases no one.

Direction: The Art of Tripping Over the Same Rock

If there’s one thing that defines Kyle Misak’s style in Bad Haircut, it’s his knack for turning mediocrity into something worse. He’s not devoid of ideas—far from it—but he seems incapable of executing them without making them sound like a déjà vu of infinitely better films. The direction is clumsy, with a rhythm that lurches between soporific and frantic for no discernible reason, as if someone had blended the timings of a Mike Leigh drama with a Michael Bay action flick and hit puree. The shots are functional, but lack any semblance of personality. There are no memorable framings, no camera movements that surprise, not even an attempt to play with lighting to create atmosphere. It’s as if Petro had decided his job was to point the camera and hit record, nothing more. And honestly, in a movie like this, even that feels like a luxury.

Misak’s greatest sin, however, is his inability to generate tension. Bad Haircut sells itself as a thriller, but it never once makes the viewer feel that prickle of unease that defines the genre. The action scenes—if you can even call them that—are so clumsy they look like they were choreographed by someone who’s only ever watched action movies on fast forward. The jump scares, when they appear, are so predictable even the neighbor’s dog could time them. And the dramatic moments... well, let’s just say if drama were an Olympic sport, Bad Haircut wouldn’t even qualify. Misak seems to think that shouting and dramatic music are enough to manufacture emotion, but he forgets that cinema, even bad cinema, requires a modicum of subtlety. Or at least coherence.

Actors: A Cast Lost in the Limbo of Overacting

The cast of Bad Haircut is a melting pot of wasted talent, where every actor seems to be playing a distorted version of themselves. Jake Busey, an actor who usually shines in eccentric roles, here settles for yelling, scowling, and flailing his arms like he’s swatting invisible flies. His character, a tough guy with a shady past, is so generic he might as well have been named “Protagonist #3” and no one would’ve noticed. Busey, however, manages to salvage the furniture thanks to his innate charisma, though even he seems painfully aware he’s in a movie that doesn’t deserve his talent. It’s like watching Nicolas Cage in a Syfy original: you know he could be doing something interesting, but the material won’t let him.

The rest of the cast fares no better. Larry Hankin, an actor with a career as long as it is respectable, seems lost in a role that makes no sense. His character, a wise old sage with more clichéd lines than a self-help manual, is so flat you could use him as an ironing board. Nora Freetly and Ellie Dobleske do their best with female characters who seem plucked from a Breaking Bad fanfic written by a teenager. And then there’s Martin Klebba, an actor who usually shines in supporting roles, here reduced to a henchman with fewer lines than an extra in The Room. The problem isn’t that the actors are bad—some are even good—but that Misak has given them material so thin it’s impossible to shine. It’s like asking a Michelin-starred chef to cook with fast food ingredients: no matter how talented they are, the end result is going to taste like cardboard.

Technical Aspects: When the Low Budget Sticks Out Like a Sore Thumb

The technical side of Bad Haircut is a painful reminder that cinema isn’t just art—it’s craft. And when the craft fails, the art suffers. The cinematography by Reid Petro is functional, but that’s about it. The shots are correct, but lack any style or personality. There’s no play with shadows, no color palette to speak of, not even an attempt to create a visual identity that sets the film apart from the thousands of low-budget productions flooding the market. It’s as if Petro had decided his job was to point the camera and shoot, period. And honestly, in a movie like this, even that feels like a stretch.

The script, penned by Misak himself, is a festival of clichés and dialogue that sounds like a parody. The characters speak as if they’re reading lines generated by an AI trained on 90s movies. The subplots are so predictable you could guess the ending in the first ten minutes. And the plot twists... well, let’s just say if the script were a labyrinth, the Minotaur would starve to death. Misak seems to think that piling on violent scenes and grandiose dialogue is enough to keep the viewer engaged, but he forgets that cinema, even bad cinema, requires a modicum of structure. Or at least logic.

The editing is another weak point. The transitions between scenes are clunky, the cuts feel arbitrary, and the rhythm is so uneven it sometimes feels like you’re watching two different movies stitched together with tape. Some scenes drag on unnecessarily, while others feel rushed, as if someone yelled “Cut!” before the actors finished their lines. And the score... well, if the music were a character, it’d be that annoying friend who won’t stop talking about themselves and nobody wants to invite to the party.

The best

Jake Busey’s presence: Though his character is a walking cliché, Busey manages to inject a dose of charisma and controlled madness that almost—almost*—saves the movie.

• The title: It’s the only thing that invites speculation and, thus, the only thing that generates expectations. Too bad the movie doesn’t live up to it.

The lack of pretension: At least Bad Haircut* doesn’t try to be something it’s not. It’s bad, but it doesn’t take itself too seriously, which makes it slightly more bearable. The costumes: Some of the outfits are so ridiculous they end up being memorable, like that vest that looks like it was lifted from a Sons of Anarchy cosplay*.

The worst

• The script: A festival of clichés, clumsy dialogue, and subplots that lead nowhere. It reads like it was written by someone who’s seen too many Quentin Tarantino movies and not enough Aaron Sorkin.
• The direction: Kyle Misak demonstrates an alarming inability to generate tension, rhythm, or any kind of emotion. It’s like watching a child try to conduct a symphony.
• The technical aspects: Flat cinematography, clunky editing, and a score that sounds like it was composed by someone who hates music. Everything reeks of a poorly managed low budget.
• The characters: So generic you could swap them around and no one would notice. They’re like extras in a dream someone forgot to flesh out.

The lack of originality: Bad Haircut* doesn’t bring anything new to the genre. It’s like watching a Guy Ritchie movie directed by someone who’s only seen the trailers. The pacing: It lurches between soporific and frenetic for no reason, like someone mixed the timings* of a Ken Loach drama with a Jerry Bruckheimer action flick.

The Verdict of Claqueta Ácida

Bad Haircut is the kind of movie that makes you question not just the state of indie cinema, but your own existence. It’s not an epic disaster like The Room, nor is it a so-bad-it’s-good abomination like Birdemic. It’s just mediocre—a soul-less, style-less, and utterly pointless exercise in filmmaking. Kyle Misak had a chance to prove he could direct a feature, but instead, he’s gifted us a hood thriller as predictable as a CSI episode. The actors do their best, but the material is so thin even Jake Busey looks like a shadow of what he could’ve been. If you’re looking for a movie that’ll make you laugh, cry, or feel anything, keep looking. Bad Haircut is like a bad haircut: it hurts, it’s uncomfortable, and worst of all, you know you’re stuck with it until it grows out. 💀