Frankie Ramirez (Dina Silva) has a dream, but the Los Angeles music industry is a nightmare tailored specifically to crush it. As an aspiring singer-songwriter, she is drowning in a toxic mix of childhood trauma, a soul-crushing environment and the relentless, image-obsessed fat-shaming of the industry. She’s trying to claw her way to the top, but the vultures are circling, and her grip on reality is slipping faster than a low-budget slasher’s plot. When she finally snaps, the result isn’t just a nervous breakdown. It’s a neon-drenched, bloody symphony of vengeance.

Frankie, Maniac Woman taps into that sweet spot of the “wronged woman” trope, pulling from the DNA of exploitation classics where the trauma is as visceral as the gore. And by weaponizing the shallow, superficial landscape of the LA music scene, the film transforms the dream of stardom into a meat grinder. It’s a perfect backdrop for a genre flick. The lighting is too bright, the smiles are too fake, and the blood looks even better against the pristine white walls of an audition room.

This is a film that clearly understands the more-is-more philosophy of genre cinema. Practical effects favor splatter over subtlety and the soundtrack that mirrors Frankie’s descent, starting as polished pop and devolving into something much more dissonant and frantic.

Director and co-writer Pierre Tsigaridis (who wrote it with Silva) has found a story, a look and an uninhibited lead (at the end, when it says Dina Silva is Frankie Ramrirez, it’s not lying as she embodies every moment of this film) willing to go for it, giving this its own feel well beyond its influences, be they Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Criminally Insane or Maniac. 

You can watch this either in-person or virtually at the Chattanooga Film Festival. For more info, visit the official site.