Pater Noster and the Mission of Light (2024)

Underground auteur Christopher Bickel is back with Pater Noster and the Mission of Light! A psychedelic neo-grindhouse nightmare sprinkled with record store culture and delivered with punk rock panache, writer/director/producer/cinematographer/editor/composer Bickel once again demonstrates why he should be considered a king of the low-budget horror and exploitation scene. Amongst other things, this movie contains stabbings, burnings, copious drug use, geriatric nudity, gruesome practical effects, bizarre imagery, psychedelic freak-outs in cinematic form, and more creativity in its severed big toe than most blockbusters can muster on fifty times the budget. While watching, to avoid fainting, keep repeating, “It’s only a movie, it’s only a movie, it’s only a movie…”

Our lead is Max (ebullient Adara Starr), a young record store clerk with a personal collection that would likely impress even the most jaded of music nerds. When a clueless customer trades in a supremely rare release by Pater Noster and the Mission of Light, a new-age hippie cult that seemingly disappeared decades ago, it puts Max and her friends on a collision course with the reclusive group. We also get Morgan Shaley Renew as the record shop owner, Sanethia Dresch as Max’s roommate and ex-girlfriend, Shelby Lois Guinn as another clerk, and Josh Outzen as the easygoing lead singer of a local metal band. Prominent cult members include Dorothy Hadley Joly, Dee Bower, Stephan Jensen, and Mike Amason as Pater Noster, himself. Tim Cappello, aka the sexy saxman from The Lost Boys, has a small but pivotal role as an Art Bell-esque talk radio host.

Bickel’s script employs a tight three-act structure. The first sets up the friend group and acts as a loving but sometimes humorous look at vinyl collector culture. In some ways, it reminded me of a less irreverent spin on Clerks. In the second, we are introduced to the Mission of Light and treated to ratcheting tension. The final act explodes into an orgy of gory violence and queasy hallucinogenic visuals. The basic plot is straightforward and streamlined. However, character work is still allowed some enjoyable flourishes. Dialog is authentic and believable, even when cult members discuss the more metaphysical components of their beliefs and activities. There’s even some nice thematic work covering generational conflict, changing ideas about science and technology, and consumerism/materialism.

The film really does feel like it’s built like a song. Bickel’s editing keeps the beat and maintains momentum. The opening section welcomes us in, weaving in the elements that will eventually lead to our unease in the next section, before delivering a lysergic Grand Guignol finale that’s like a blood-drenched Syd Barrett track made manifest. At just over 90 minutes, the “concert” hits all the right notes at all the right moments, leaving you breathless, blissed-out, and maybe a little repulsed.

Speaking of music, Bickel’s score compliments the visuals perfectly. It’s not just the work of a talented amateur, either, as Bickel spent many years in multiple punk and hardcore bands. Additionally, the soundtrack of Mission of Light songs was composed and performed by a dazzling array of musicians from in and around Bickel’s hometown of Columbia, South Carolina. For months, I’ve been spinning the album on Spotify. It works completely as a standalone piece of art, which is a testament to Bickel’s commitment to providing a complete experience of the film’s world.

All of the major performers put in good work. Starr capably carries the film and has great chemistry with all of the supporting roles. She nails the girl-next-door-with-some-nerdy-proclivities aesthetic. Outzen is fun as a somewhat dopey stoner. Amason is pitch-perfect as the fatherly and unassuming cult leader. However, Hadley Joly owns my favorite turn, with her quiet line deliveries concealing matter-of-fact malevolence. Cappello’s high-profile cameo shows that he’s more than just a sculpted physique and proficient sax blower.

Photography is on point, as well. The baseline look is sometimes garish, sometimes bucolic, and always clear in its storytelling. Sets and locations are memorable, creating an easy verisimilitude. My favorite spots include the crowded record store, Max’s bedroom with its shelves packed with records, and the fully realized cult compound. Extras bustle about in backgrounds, the cult boasts somewhere around a dozen members, and other details like the colorfully painted school bus and prominently featured vintage car all combine for an engaging and immersive watch. With regards to costumes, Max and her friends look like actual twenty-somethings and the cult members’ robes build on the character work of the actors, too. Throw in some nifty acid-inspired sequences and Pater Noster and the Mission of Light delivers on coaxing us into its creepy psychotropic milieu.

I’m only going to briefly touch on the effects work, as going into any detail would spoil some of the film’s more memorable moments. Gore is pretty effective, though not necessarily lingered upon. It’s definitely splattery, but it doesn’t go over the top. All told, as a longtime horror fan, I felt like it had just the right amount of grue to compliment the story and not distract from it. The climax features something above and beyond blood squibs, wound work, and prosthetics, though, and it absolutely had me grinning from ear to ear.

With a budget somewhere in the vicinity of $30K, Christopher Bickel has delivered another kick-ass low-budget masterpiece. Pater Noster and the Mission of Light will premiere on October 5th in Charlotte, North Carolina. Soon after, it will hit the festival circuit. A Blu-ray release is already being worked on, but I would expect the film to hit streaming platforms as well, in the near future. At the end of the credits, Bickel leaves us with a final message, imploring us to ignore the arts industry and to make art with our friends. It’s the last punk word from a punk as fuck film. Pater Noster and the Mission of Light receives my highest possible recommendation.

Michael Cavender