‘The True Beauty of Being Bitten by a Tick’ Review: Maybe the Real Treasure Was the Parasites We Made Along the Way [B+] | SXSW

The blinding darkness of a forest hides the blood-suckers. Trees shoot from the ground and extend themselves towards the sky, the tops a canopy for the ecosystem underneath. The undergrowth conceals the smallest creatures in the woodlands, hidden from the world unlike the larger animals unable to hide on leaves, in grass, even in shrubs. The wilderness is a place of calm for many, but releasing back into the bustle of fast-paced lives can rob those who’ve sought out such peace. Pete Ohs’ newest film, The True Beauty of Being Bitten by a Tick, incisively examines the parasitic thoughts that can plague the human mind.
Yvonne (Zoë Chao, Nightbitch) has just had her life turned upside down. A thanatophobe (a person with an intense and irrational fear of death and the dying process) who just lost her dog, she’s consumed by anxiety in the face of her pet’s mortality. She phones an old friend, Camille (Callie Hernandez, The Flight Attendant), that escaped city life in favor of a smaller existence in a small town that prioritizes nature over a concrete jungle. Camille invites her down for a quiet weekend to ease her mind, providing a place of reprieve for her grief-stricken friend. Yvonne accepts the offer, almost immediately making the journey down to see her old confidante. She’s surprised upon arrival to learn that they won’t be alone, as Camille has two friends staying with her: Isaac (Jeremy O. Harris, Tony Award-nominated creator of Slave Play and Ain’t No Mo’), her realtor, and his partner, A.J. (James Cusati-Moyer, Maestro). There’s immediate confusion, Yvonne expressing that she thought it would only be her and Camille for the weekend; Camille quickly attempts to dissipate any worries she might have with the couple also being there. Yvonne is despondent at the loss of her dog, barely registering sentences directed at her, but starts to notice strangeness amongst the group she finds herself in. There’s a weirdness to the relationship of the three she finds herself with, Isaac and A.J. partners that seem focused on the gentrification of the small town they now reside in; queer people have historically been pushed from society, so it only seems fitting that, in this film, the gentrification is mostly a way to commodify the nature around them in an attempt to qualm the anxieties of an outside world that doesn’t accept them. Chao moves with a lifelessness to her expression that fuels the worry of everyone around Yvonne. After a walk through the woods to relax, she finds a tick latched onto her back; her weekend only becomes more harrowing after she rips it off with tweezers.
Yvonne’s fear of death traps her within her own mind, almost crippling her when panic sets in. She wasn’t able to eat A.J.’s home-cooked meal when she arrived, thinking it inedible while the other three delicately watched her taste it. The entire film hinges on Chao’s performance as it walks a tonal tightrope towards the finish line. Yvonne is hilariously out of her comfort zone, Zoë Chao able to convey her appalled dispositions with the slightest arch of her brow. The film is reminiscent of Mark Mylod’s The Menu, similar in style and shifting tones through psychological torture and dark humor. There’s hilarity in the growing discomfort, her housemates checking in with her multiple times over the same thing, suffocating Yvonne with an earnest tenderness she isn’t accustomed to as she attempts to distance herself from the tragedy that brought her to them in the first place. The next time A.J. cooks, however, she has a taste for it (which is insane given it’s the driest meatball on top of the scariest-looking spaghetti anyone has ever laid eyes on). She shovels it down, a newness to her, a fresh spirit overtaking the pains she’s felt over the past few days — perhaps, even, her entire life. Yvonne’s anxieties have driven her life, a novel calm now wafting over her spirit the further away from the tick bite she gets. She’s slowly becoming different, but still noticing the abnormalities of her surroundings: the people she’s with aren’t burdened by the problems of contemporary society, they’ve shed the skin that feels pricks of consternation. As she gets deeper into their lives, it becomes clear to her how she will now exist.
A writing collaboration between the four performers and director Pete Ohs, The True Beauty of Being Bitten by a Tick digs itself into your skin in a tight 80 minutes, uncovering the humanity underneath the stressors of everyday life. The film balances tone with ease, relishing in distress that highlights the dryness of the humor and running jokes throughout the film, the best being Isaac’s use of the word ‘resplendent’ to describe each rise and fall of the sun until Yvonne finally says it back, a full circle moment that is laugh out loud funny. Smaller moments, such as Isaac checking in on Yvonne’s dedication to seeing a sunset or sunrise, make waves through nuanced performances from the cast. Callie Hernandez, Jeremy O. Harris, and James Cusati-Moyer excel in their roles by completing the circle of strange friendship that Yvonne finds herself in. The three are each able to give soft line readings that bring tenderness to the forefront, disarming Yvonne each time she’s spoken to. Even with her initial dismay at the men being at the house, she begins to release herself from the fear that’s burdened her entire life. As the fear subsides and she begins to see the world without it, she’s able to laugh, feel joy, not shy away at light touches from others. Chao shifts gears easily, a noticeable difference in her gaze, a lightness sitting where intensity once was.
The noticeable difference when one has a community — and can feel protected and included in that community — is astounding. The isolation of everyday life is stifling, particularly for people like Yvonne, whose focus on death robs her of a content existence. A life lived in fear provides no life at all, only a pointed focus and terror towards the unexpected. Being Bitten by a Tick is acutely aware of this, allowing the audience inside the mind of someone who has never seen the world through a lens of delight. The difference in Yvonne’s disposition as the film progresses is a testament to both Zoë Chao’s commitment to the performance and Pete Ohs’ careful hand as director. A film that passes through extreme awkwardness to get to humanity and humor should be tricky, but Ohs makes it feel natural. Even being a leisurely-paced film, it feels quick as scenes shift into the next with ease. The hilarious rebuffing of Yvonne’s worries about the tick bite continues to build, each mention funnier than the last as the bite gets noticeably worse. A film like this could easily go off the rails with such a pace, possibly dragging, but the narrative flows without a hitch. The film uses discomfort to draw you in as opposed to pushing away, dragging you into the forest with Yvonne as she combats the anxieties she has always felt.
The blinding darkness of life hides the fears that trap us within ourselves. Only when we release the anxieties that sit inside our minds are we able to fully experience the joys that constantly surround us, even the tiny ones we’ve forgotten about tucked away in the back. The True Beauty of Being Bitten by a Tick deftly explores how the fear of losing life can prevent us from ever experiencing it with four central performances that build and feed off one another. There is only so much one mind can take before it drowns in a sea of constantly released cortisol. Perhaps, for the first time ever, the bite of an insect can be useful, possibly even life-saving.
Grade: B+
This review is from the 2025 SXSW Film and Television Festival. The True Beauty of Bitten by a Tick is currently seeing distribution.
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