To live in the Bad Batch, you must become what you fear.
The Bad Batch is a hallucinatory, genre-bending descent into dystopia, where society’s outcasts are exiled to the desert and left to devour one another—literally and figuratively. Directed by Ana Lily Amirpour (A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night), the film defies categorization, fusing arthouse aesthetics with grindhouse brutality in a surreal American nightmare.
The story centers on Arlen (Suki Waterhouse), a young woman discarded by the U.S. government into a vast no-man’s land outside Texas, where criminals, misfits, and the "unwanted" form their own vicious tribes. Shortly after her arrival, she’s captured by a gang of cannibals and loses an arm and a leg. But Arlen survives—and survival, in this world, demands becoming something less than human, or perhaps something more.
As Arlen navigates the scorched landscapes and bizarre outposts—including the drug-fueled settlement of Comfort, ruled by the enigmatic cult leader The Dream (Keanu Reeves)—she crosses paths with Miami Man (Jason Momoa), a brooding cannibal seeking his lost daughter. What unfolds isn’t a traditional love story, but a warped tale of vengeance, dependence, and the blurry line between monsters and those who create them.
With hypnotic visuals, minimal dialogue, and a synth-drenched soundtrack, The Bad Batch is a brutal tone poem about exile, morality, and what’s left of humanity when the system throws you away. It’s beautiful. Ugly. And unforgettable.