'Where in the Hell' Captures the Beauty of Being Lost - Review

Cam Killion and Joohun Lee in Where In The Hell

There’s something undeniably romantic about the great American road trip. Maybe it’s the neon glow of a roadside diner sign flickering in the dark, or the way an empty highway seems to stretch into infinity, promising adventure—or at least, something slightly more interesting than whatever mess you left behind.

In Where in the Hell, Laramie Dennis takes that classic idea of the road trip movie, shakes it up in a paper bag, and tosses it out the window. What we get instead is a quirky, sometimes melancholic, but always entertaining detour through the spaces in between: between jobs, between relationships, between knowing who you are and just faking it till you do. It’s a film about being lost—not just in the literal sense, but in the existential, “what am I doing with my life” kind of way. And honestly? It’s delightful.

Kasey (Cam Killion) is not having a great day. She’s a prop master from L.A. who finds herself suddenly stranded in Nowheresville after her girlfriend bails on her—taking their dog, Elmo, with her. If there’s a worse way to get dumped, I don’t want to hear it. With no car, no cell reception, and no idea what to do next, she’s left stewing in the wreckage of her relationship. Enter Alan (Joohun Lee), a familiar-but-not-too-familiar actor she once worked with, who just so happens to be passing through on his way to Canada.

Now, if this were any other indie road trip dramedy, we’d probably be bracing for romance. But Where in the Hell isn’t interested in taking the obvious route. Kasey and Alan don’t fall in love. They don’t even particularly like each other at first. Their chemistry is more “annoying cousin you’re stuck in the car with” than Before Sunrise, and that’s what makes it work. They’re two people who have nothing in common except bad timing and a broken GPS, which, as it turns out, is more than enough to get them through a couple of state lines.

The film takes its time, meandering through roadside diners, psychic readings, and long stretches of desert highway like a traveler with no particular destination. Set during the early days of the pandemic, there’s a sense of eerie suspension, like the whole world is holding its breath. People wear masks half-on, half-off, as if unsure whether the danger has really arrived yet. Plans are vague, dreams feel distant, and everything is just a little bit off-kilter.

And yet, the film never wallows in despair. Dennis brings a light touch to even the most existential moments, finding humor in the absurdity of it all. Kasey and Alan may be lost, but they’re lost together, arguing about gas station snacks and whether or not Alan’s upcoming audition is a real opportunity or just another dead end. Their conversations feel lived-in, full of half-truths and self-deprecating jokes, the kind of banter that makes even the most aimless journey feel purposeful.

Visually, the film leans into a dreamy Americana aesthetic—faded motel signs, the glow of a jukebox, an endless stretch of road disappearing into the horizon. It’s the kind of setting that makes you want to roll down the windows and let the wind tangle your hair. There’s a wistful, almost nostalgic quality to it all, as if the film itself is aware that these fleeting in-between moments are the ones we remember most.

By the time the credits roll, Where in the Hell hasn’t delivered any grand epiphanies. Kasey and Alan don’t suddenly figure out their lives, and the road doesn’t magically provide all the answers. But that’s the point. Some stories aren’t about the destination. Some are just about keeping the car running, driving forward, and seeing where the road takes you. And honestly? That’s more than enough.