By Steve Erickson

The enthusiastic spirit of Lost Soulz is appealing enough to make what feels like two different types of movies sutured together dramatically satisfying.

Lost Soulz, directed by Katherine Propper. Streams on VOD on June 4.

Sauve Sidle in a scene in Lost Soulz.

Lost Soulz is a feature that explores the space between living in the moment and the awareness that any journey inevitably ends. The story takes back roads as it follows the titular hip-hop group as they go on a long drive through Texas toward a gig at an El Paso club. The soundtrack was created by the cast, which is made up of real-life rappers and singers. You may not be a fan of their music, which is performed in a style reminiscent of the late Juice WRLD, with whom lead actor Sauve Sidle toured. But it is infused with a rowdy, collective energy, and the joy the group members take in creating their performances is contagious. Everywhere these musicians go, they improvise lyrics and melodies. When they take a break from the road, they zone out watching the sunset or wondering at a petting zoo’s ostrich as it pecks at the food pellets they hold out.

Aspiring rapper Sol (Sidle), who sports rainbow-colored hair, performs at a house party, where he and his friend Wesley (Siyanda “Yung Bambi” Stillwell) have also brought along bottles of pills to sell. After singing one song, Sol watches Lost Soulz perform and he immediately befriends them. The party is shut down by the police and we see Wesley lying near death, twitching from a drug overdose in a back room. Nina (Krystall Poppin), Lost Soulz’s manager, talks her way out of trouble and invites Sol to go on the road with the group. He and Lost Soulz have great chemistry together, although it’s not quite convincing that they’d hit it off so quickly. They bond during a leisurely journey through art installations, a lonely Prada store in the middle of nowhere, and various skate parks.

Andrea Arnold’s 2016 road trip American Honey seems to have been an inspiration for Lost Soulz. Popper’s film splits the difference between hanging out with its characters and mining drama from their experiences and relationship. The director, who worked as an editor for Terrence Malick, draws on a style that combines multiple sources of media: split screens, vertical footage shot on a phone, Super-8 home movies (with the sprockets left in). The incorporation of new media feels natural, as in Sol’s scroll through the comments on Wesley’s Instagram video. The characters are interested but not obsessed with their presence online; they talk about being grateful for a few likes here and there, but they don’t spend all day on it. When in the van, they’re fully engaged with each other and their music. Popper never copies Malick’s style, but her lyrical images of rural Americana show his influence.

A scene from Lost Soulz.

One of the most memorable scenes shows the group members gathered around a laptop to write a song; they listen to a beat that only lasts a minute, gliding easily from rapping to singing, determinedly working out each line. (There’s also a campfire sing-along.) The excitement of making music is conveyed with considerable power. Despite Sol’s ambition to become a star (he stares into the mirror and says “you are gonna be a superstar”), the collective commitment to creation takes priority.

Apart from Sol, the characters tend to run together. The cast are all real-life hip-hop artists (Propper first met Sidle in 2016, and she planned to make a feature around him ever since) and their own skill imparts authenticity to Lost Soulz. The actors’ desire for success and the spotlight is evident in the performances; even when they’re not making music, these musicians seem hungry. But the initial hangout mood gives way to something more plot-driven — the air of documentary fades away. Although Lost Soulz avoids many of the clichés associated with hip-hop, the gun in Sol’s bag threatens to turn Chekhovian. Several group members’ use of opioids and Xanax does not bode well. The title indicates how obvious this film can be at its worst.

That said, Lost Soulz handles the traumatic emotions of its final turn convincingly. Viewers and Sol are taken back to earlier imagery, which is given a more depressive spin the second time around. Our protagonist tags a wall with spray paint and skates alone, removed from group camaraderie. Yes, the notion of artists barely out of their teens finding themselves on a road trip is familiar, as are the issues of grappling with the tension between commercial success and art and the demands of remaining responsible to one’s family while making a career. Still, the enthusiastic spirit of Lost Soulz is appealing enough to make what feels like two different types of movies sutured together dramatically satisfying.

Steve Erickson writes about film and music for Gay City News, Slant Magazine, the Nashville Scene, Trouser Press, and other outlets. He also produces electronic music under the tag callinamagician. His latest album, Bells and Whistles, was released in January 2024, and is available to stream here.