Indeed, like the anti-hero of Buzzard, Potrykus' impressive, unnerving sophomore feature, Sean is looking for a way to make money while having the least amount of communication or physical interactions with society at large that is humanly possible. His days are made up of cooking up myriad chemical compounds and metals in this small space, listening to rap and metal, stuffing Doritos in his mouth, and taking his all-important pills with a big glug of soda. The someone, in this case, is Sean ( Ty Hickson), a young nerd who lives, sleeps, and eats in a shanty in the woods that's smaller than most walk-in closets. Potrykus has said that he created The Alchemist Cookbook as an experiment to see if he could make people empathize with someone who is clearly losing their mind and cannot be helped. With The Alchemist Cookbook, he has not only crafted a deeply unsettling, wildly creative, and weirdly funny psychological horror-melodrama but also made his best film to date by a country mile. There was a certain distance from the tale that made you feel halfway disconnected from the psychological bedlam that would cause someone to take such an action, but Potrykus is not interested in affording anyone that buffer. Most of the time, this kind of story came to you secondhand from a friend who was talking about his cousin's college roommate, but by the time you heard it, it had of course taken on the timbre of recreational myth. A young, troubled man spurns society and goes to live in a small shack in the woods, where he takes up amateur alchemy in the hopes of being able to create gold for himself. If you grew up anywhere close to a heavily forested area, you've probably heard a story similar to the one that's told in Joel Potrykus' The Alchemist Cookbook.

The alchemist cookbook 2016