Cult-crush newcomer Evan Glodell’s audacious debut is an improbably kinetic assembly of spot-welded surplus parts: muscle car, flamethrower, sweater vest, hipster haircut, untellable feelings. The basic mechanics involve two aimless Ventura dudes (Glodell and Tyler Dawson) and the women (Jessie Wiseman, Rebekah Brandes) who endure their catastrophic projections. An indulgent, obviously personal post-breakup catharsis, and by chance a deconstruction of the volatile young-male ego, it also has a peculiar and mesmerizing sort of sociological value. Our sensitive-gearhead-writer-director-editor-star obviously went for broke getting his movie made, to the point of building the camera himself, and maybe not knowing when to turn it off. Quite smitten with its own low-budget but highly processed imagery, Glodell’s quasi-apocalyptic emo-punk mumblecore romance can barely bring itself to end. As a compromise, it melts itself down. Fun, and frustrating, to watch.