If you were browsing a video rental store in the early nineties, you probably saw a neon-tinged VHS cover featuring a young Drew Barrymore and a trailer park. That was Far from Home 1989. It’s a movie that sits in this strange, dusty corner of cinematic history where the Ozploitation vibe meets the American desert. Most people who remember it usually say the same thing: "Wait, wasn't that the one with the creepy kid and the desert cult?"
Kind of.
Actually, it's way stranger than that. Directed by Meiert Avis—the guy who basically defined the visual language of U2’s music videos—the film is a neo-noir survival thriller that feels like a fever dream. It’s not a masterpiece, but it’s fascinating. It captures Drew Barrymore at a pivotal, messy transition in her life and career. She was fourteen. She was playing a character on the verge of womanhood. And she was stuck in a town called Joven, which is essentially a graveyard for dreams and broken-down vehicles.
The Plot Nobody Remembers Correctly
The setup is classic. Charlie Cox (played by Matt Frewer, who you probably know as Max Headroom) and his daughter Joleen (Barrymore) are driving across the desert. Their car runs out of gas. This isn't just a minor inconvenience; it’s a death sentence in a town like Joven.
Joven is populated by characters that look like they wandered off a David Lynch set. You've got Richard Masur as Duckett, the local creepy guy, and a very young Jennifer Tilly being, well, Jennifer Tilly. The atmosphere is thick. It’s hot. You can almost feel the grit of the Mojave Desert on your skin while watching it.
People often confuse Far from Home 1989 with a straight-up slasher. It isn’t. It’s more of a "wrong turn" thriller that focuses on the predatory nature of a dying town. Joleen becomes the target of unwanted attention from just about every male in the zip code, which, looking back, is incredibly uncomfortable to watch. The film leans into that discomfort. It wants you to feel trapped.
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Why the Production Style Matters
Meiert Avis didn't direct like a horror filmmaker. He directed like a cinematographer obsessed with light. This is why the movie looks so much better than it probably should. Every sunset is oversaturated. Every shadow is deep ink.
If you look at his work on U2's "Where the Streets Have No Name," you see the same DNA. He uses the desert as a character. It's not just a setting; it's an antagonist. The wide shots make Barrymore and Frewer look microscopic. That sense of isolation is the only reason the movie works. Without that visual flair, it would just be another forgotten B-movie from the late eighties.
Honestly, the pacing is a bit of a mess. It drags in the middle when it should be ramping up the tension. But then it hits you with a scene that feels genuinely dangerous. There’s a specific sequence involving a trailer park and a cross-dressing killer—yeah, it goes there—that shifts the tone from a slow-burn drama to a high-stakes nightmare. It’s jarring. It’s weird. It’s 1989.
The Drew Barrymore Factor
We have to talk about Drew. In 1989, her personal life was tabloid fodder. She was the "wild child" of Hollywood. This role reflects that energy. There is a raw, unpolished vulnerability in her performance as Joleen that you don't see in her later rom-com era.
- She was 14 playing roughly 14, but the script treats her like she's 20.
- The movie exploits the transition from her "E.T." innocence to her adult persona.
- She carries the film despite a script that often fails her.
Critics at the time weren't kind. The Los Angeles Times basically called it a lackluster thriller that couldn't decide what it wanted to be. They weren't entirely wrong. It’s a tonal disaster at times. But for cult film fans, that’s the draw. It’s a relic of a time when mid-budget movies could be experimental and slightly "off."
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Comparing Joven to Other Cinematic Wastelands
When you think about desert thrillers, you think The Hills Have Eyes or Breakdown. Far from Home 1989 is softer than the former but weirder than the latter. It doesn't rely on gore. It relies on the "creep factor."
The town of Joven feels like a place that shouldn't exist. There’s no economy. There’s no future. Just a bunch of people waiting for someone’s car to break down. This "spider-and-the-fly" dynamic is what keeps the movie relevant to modern audiences who are rediscovering it on streaming platforms or boutique Blu-ray labels like Vinegar Syndrome.
- The Gas Station: It's the central hub of doom. In cinema, if you run out of gas in the desert, you’ve already lost.
- The Water: The film uses the lack of water as a ticking clock, but it’s less about thirst and more about the "filth" of the town.
- The Outsider: Matt Frewer plays the "rational man" who slowly realizes that logic doesn't work in Joven. He’s great, though his Max Headroom fame was a bit of a distraction for audiences at the time.
The Legacy of a "Forgotten" Film
Is it a good movie?
Sorta.
It’s a great looking movie that has a "good" story buried under some eighties tropes. It’s worth watching for the performances alone. Seeing a young Jennifer Tilly and a pre-stardom Drew Barrymore face off in a desert wasteland is a specific kind of joy.
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The film also serves as a time capsule for the end of the Reagan era. There’s an underlying anxiety about the "rust belt" moving into the desert—the idea that the American dream had curdled into something unrecognizable in the vast empty spaces of the West. It’s cynical. It’s dark. It’s dusty.
Actionable Ways to Experience Far From Home Today
If you’re planning on diving into this piece of 1989 history, don't just find a grainy upload on a random site. The cinematography is the best part, so you need to see it in a decent format.
- Track down the Blu-ray: Vestron Video or similar labels have released restored versions that actually preserve Meiert Avis’s color palette. The difference between the old VHS rips and the restoration is night and day.
- Watch for the symbolism: Pay attention to how often the characters are framed through broken glass or mirrors. It’s a classic noir technique that Avis uses to show how fractured the town of Joven really is.
- Check out the soundtrack: The music by Nile Rodgers (yes, that Nile Rodgers) is unexpectedly slick. It’s a weird choice for a desert thriller, but it adds to the surreal, slightly-out-of-place feeling of the entire production.
The real value of Far from Home 1989 isn't in its plot twists or its scares. It's in the mood. It’s a movie about being stuck. Whether you’re stuck in a town, stuck in a stage of life, or stuck in a car that won't start, the film captures that specific brand of panic perfectly.
Don't expect a fast-paced action flick. Instead, treat it like a visual poem that happens to have a murderer in it. Look at the way the light hits the sand during the finale. Notice how the heat seems to distort the actors' faces. That’s where the real craft is. It’s a flawed film, definitely, but it has more soul and visual ambition than 90% of the thrillers coming out of the major studios today.
If you want to understand Drew Barrymore’s career, you have to watch this. If you want to see how music video aesthetics invaded 80s cinema, you have to watch this. Just make sure your gas tank is full before you start the movie. It’s safer that way.
To get the most out of your viewing, pair it with other desert-noir films from the same era like The Hitcher (1986) or Road House (1989) to see how directors were playing with the concept of the "American Frontier" at the end of the decade. Pay close attention to the editing rhythms during the climax—you can see the direct influence of the MTV era in how the shots are spliced to create a sense of frantic, claustrophobic energy despite the wide-open setting.