Werewolf movies must be hard to make because of expectations. They aren’t as typically omnipresent as other movie monsters like vampires and zombies and I think one of the reasons, especially with indie horror, is that they might not be as emotionally or thematically rich. While we’ve seen vampires used as metaphors for diseases, sexuality, addiction and other resonant topics, werewolves always seem to represent some kind of duality in humankind. It’s something we want to repress or hide from polite society.

In Bloodthirsty it’s used to explore mental illness to mixed results.

Grey (Lauren Beatty) is an indie pop star whose fantastic debut album sent her to the stratosphere. She also struggles with hallucinations of turning into an animal and Bloodthirsty even opens on a vivid dream of her, ripping the guts out of an animal and feeding on them. When she awakens and looks in the mirror, she sees blood in her mouth and her eyes have taken an animalistic and wolf-like shape. Her therapist (Michael Ironside) has run tests, MRIs and bloodwork and has her on some prescribed medication to help control her hallucinations.

With the pressure of not having a sophomore slump with her next album, she decides to work with an eccentric and hermit mega-producer named Vaughn (Greg Bryk). Vaughn was once in a boyband and was quite famous before his ingenue died mysteriously. He was eventually acquitted, but the stories have followed him since then and he now lives in a secluded mansion. But something about Grey has caught his attention and he has offered his home and talents to her. So Grey and her girlfriend Charlie (Katharine King So) head up to his house so the painter Charlie can get inspiration from the beautiful landscape and Grey can ensure her next album is a smash hit.

But when they arrive, Vaughn seems more interested in Grey than just as a next musical prodigy and as he slowly strips away her defenses, the animal inside her starts to stir.

Written by Wendy Hill-Tout and singer/songwriter Lowell, Bloodthirsty creates an intriguing premise of the thrill of celebrityism coupled with mental illness. It half-heartedly explores how we use medication to keep dark thoughts and actions at bay, comparing the idea of an unknowable darkness with lycanthropy. Vaughn becomes a destructive force in her life, telling her she doesn’t need the pills and that “this is going to be great” without them. A devout vegan who doesn’t drink hard liquor, Grey is also tempted into betraying the very things she holds dear to her. Vaughn becomes a devil on her shoulder, cooing, “you’ll be fine...trust me” as he offers up a succulent piece of steak and offers her absinthe.

Even more insidious is how he interjects himself between Grey and Charlie, performing the classic abuser behavior of separating her from her social life and lifelines. In this way it’s an intriguing parable for depression, mental illness and the way fame can be destructive. I just wish it pushed harder into it, particularly as it rounds into the third act. A mainly three person play centered in a remote mansion, the conflict between the characters never seems to justify the themes it wants to explore. A few moments like Grey telling Charlie that he’s helping her while Charlie responds, “he’s going to kill us both” feel very on-the-nose.

One thing is for certain, though. Amelia Moses directs the hell out of Bloodythirsty. Making use of the mostly once-location shoot, she creates a home that feels simultaneously warm and inviting and coldly detached and threatening. It’s a vibe that continues through the entirety of the film, relying on muted colors with bursts of red to really hint at violence. Lauren Beatty brings an equally icy coldness to Grey. A character who’s obviously been hurt before and comes from the foster system, Grey knows she’s one bad album away from fading into oblivion and Beatty exudes that fear in everything she does. Amelia Moses pulls a complicated and layered performance out of her for the second time this year (Moses also directed Beatty in Bleed With Me, also having a festival run).

Greg Bryk, meanwhile, gives Vaughn a weaselly sense of charm that’s simultaneously infectious and off-putting. My favorite shot of the film has Vaughn lounging in his chair, a self-satisfied and bloody smile plastered across his face, that just oozes a mix of sexuality and horror in equal measure. I just wish there were more of that in the film.

Ultimately, I’m not convinced Bloodthirsty’s use of lycanthropy to explore mental illness works, but Amelia’s direction, Lowell’s music and Beatty and Bryk’s performances kept me intrigued all the way through.