Have you ever wondered what it would look like if the future of food became a battleground for corporate greed and human survival? Charlotte Zhang’s Tycoon paints a vivid picture of just that, and it’s both mesmerizing and unsettling. Set in a dystopian Los Angeles on the brink of the 2028 Olympics, the film imagines a world where a megacorporation, Ootheca Inc., controls the distribution of protein—in the form of powdered insects—after a livestock disease wipes out meat production. What makes this particularly fascinating is how Zhang roots her sci-fi narrative in today’s realities: corporate monopolies, environmental crises, and systemic inequality. It’s not just a story about the future; it’s a mirror held up to our present.
One thing that immediately stands out is the film’s visual style. Zhang blends handheld DV footage, Super 8, and Xerox art to create a raw, DIY aesthetic that feels both chaotic and deliberate. Personally, I think this approach does more than just add grit—it reflects the characters’ resourcefulness in a world that’s falling apart. Lito and Jay, two hustlers navigating this dystopian landscape, aren’t just surviving; they’re thriving by gaming the system. Their petty crimes, like stealing protein powder from Ootheca’s trailers, are small acts of rebellion against a corporation that’s as insidious as the cockroach infestation plaguing the city.
What many people don’t realize is how deeply political this film is. Lito and Jay, as Latino men, exist at the intersection of economic precarity and state-sanctioned racial violence. Their decision to fight back, rather than succumb to the system, feels empowering. Zhang doesn’t shy away from making these themes explicit, using text intertitles to deliver her manifesto. Sure, it’s a bit on-the-nose at times, but if you take a step back and think about it, what better platform for a debut filmmaker to challenge the status quo?
A detail that I find especially interesting is the juxtaposition of beauty and decay. Zhang’s attention to blocking and composition turns scenes of house parties, twilight rides, and street drifting into a stunning city symphony. There’s a rhythm to the chaos, a harmony in the disorder, that feels almost poetic. It’s as if the film is saying: even in a broken world, there’s still room for beauty—if you know where to look.
This raises a deeper question: What does it mean to survive in a world where the system is rigged against you? Lito and Jay’s story isn’t just about stealing protein powder; it’s about reclaiming agency in a society that treats them as disposable. Their resilience is a middle finger to the Oothecas of the world, a reminder that even the smallest acts of defiance can be revolutionary.
If you ask me, Tycoon is more than just a dystopian thriller—it’s a call to action. Zhang’s debut is a masterclass in blending genre storytelling with sharp social commentary. It’s a film that doesn’t just entertain; it challenges you to think about the world we’re building and the one we could end up with. Personally, I left the theater feeling both inspired and uneasy—a testament to Zhang’s ability to craft a story that lingers long after the credits roll.
