Sean Baker’s Red Rocket is like watching a car crash in slow motion if the car was a 1990s porn star and the crash was his own delusions of grandeur. This is a film that revels in its own grime, a darkly comic character study that feels equal parts hilarious and horrifying. Simon Rex delivers a career-defining performance as Mikey Saber, a washed-up adult film actor slinking back to his Texas hometown with nothing but a bruised ego and a hustler’s grin.

Baker, ever the poet of American desperation, paints a portrait of a man who’s both pathetic and perversely magnetic. Mikey isn’t just unlikable he’s a walking disaster, a narcissist who views the world as his personal casting couch. Yet Rex plays him with such infectious charm that you almost (almost) root for him, even as he manipulates everyone in his orbit. The film’s genius lies in its refusal to judge him outright; instead, it lets him dig his own grave, one bad decision at a time.

The supporting cast is stellar, particularly Suzanna Son as Strawberry, a teenage donut shop worker who becomes the object of Mikey’s predatory "mentorship." Their dynamic is deeply uncomfortable, yet Baker handles it with a balance of absurdity and unease that keeps it from tipping into outright exploitation. The film’s grainy, sun-bleached cinematography mirrors its setting a nowhere town where dreams go to die, and the American hustle feels more like a con game.

If Red Rocket stumbles, it’s in its pacing. The middle section drags as Mikey’s schemes grow repetitive, and the film’s lack of a traditional narrative arc might frustrate some viewers. But that’s also the point this isn’t a redemption story. It’s a portrait of a man who’s always one step ahead of his own downfall, until he isn’t.

By the end, you’ll feel like you need a shower. And that’s exactly how Baker wants you to feel.