Magic Farm

Its attempt at absurdity rarely lands, leaving behind a project more self-indulgent than insightful.


Burke Battelle’s whimsical score amplifies the offbeat charm, but the comedic tone is ill met by tonal inconsistencies, flat punchlines and a wilful lack of momentum. Cross-cultural satire lurks unassertively in the margins.

Magic Farm may not be a blanket crowd pleaser, but Ulman’s smart writing lands in a deeply optimistic place about the pure magic of human connection.

Ulman’s script is often haphazard, sometimes lingering in ruts and other times frenetically balancing subplots. But, in this case, it doesn’t take away from the commentary at play.

Modest to the point of a muted impact, Magic Farm feels more like a work-in-progress than a final draft.

The latest bit of mischief by filmmaker Amalia Ulman, it’s about how making the world smaller hasn’t widened our curiosity as much as shrunk it into snarky bites — in short, it’s about going everywhere and seeing nothing.



[MAGIC FARM has] more going on in the background than its myopic main characters or the film cares to explore ... promising elements, but the overall concoction needs more magic.

Magic Farm, though, has too much of a purely aimless, centrifugal feel, as if it’s one long trailer in search of a movie. People wander in and out to express random emotions that seem disconnected from clear motivation or story point.

Good performances and funny scenes outweigh the lack of structure. It may be too offbeat for mainstream audiences, but I kind of loved it.

Magic Farm is a satisfying, gonzo satire that was a pleasure to sit through.