Off Ramp
Written by Nathan Tape and Tim Cairo
Directed by Nathan Tape
Starring Jon Oswald, Scott Turner Schofield, Ashley Smith, Jared Bankens, Reed Diamond and Miles Doleac
Runtime: 91 minutes
Limited Theatrical Release and Digital Debut for U.S. VOD Platforms and DVD on September 6

by Joe Carlough, Staff Writer

I’ve long been a fan of subcultures—nearly any of them, and the more sub, the better. Being a member of many subcultures myself, I love to hear about what happens when a group of people join together for a niche interest. In the past couple years I’ve been to zine fests, vinyl record lathe cutting camps, miniatures conventions, comic cons, movie festivals, and all sorts of other fun, small scale (and some not-so-small scale) gatherings. I’ve watched dozens of documentaries about subcultures, made both by insiders and outsiders. One of the things that can be so lovely about these communities is that, even as it grows and gets mainstream attention, it still belongs to the members themselves, regardless of the narrative that the society at large spins about them–and let’s face it, mainstream society is not often kind to subcultures. This is the kind of situation that the juggalo community, fans of the rap group Insane Clown Posse (ICP), finds itself in today. 

Written and directed by Nathan Tape, and co-written by Tim Cairo, Off Ramp has a strong script, fantastic performances from Jon Oswald as lead juggalo Trey and Scott Turner Schofield as sidekick Silas, and a lot of humor and a lot of heart, even if it eventually loses itself on the backroads in its over-the-top second half. An endearing road comedy loosely based on true stories, the movie provides a glimpse—granted, a totally unhinged glimpse—into the juggalo lifestyle. A lifestyle full of drugs, rap, crude humor, and dangerous living, yes, but with a secret soft underbelly, one of acceptance, dedication, possibility, and building a family who supports you, even if your natural family never did. And I’m here for it. The closest approximation I can give is that Off Ramp does for juggalos what SLC Punk did for Utah punks: gave them a place in society for others to study, even those totally foreign to the scene. 

The movie builds a solid foundation in the opening scene, in which Trey, newly released from prison, gets some well-wishes from his prison guard friend, who reveals her Hatchet Man tattoo during a fist bump, the chosen symbol for juggalos–even in prison he finds family. Immediately upon exiting the jailhouse, he’s picked up by his best friend, Silas, in their beat up and heavily modified van, the van in which they’ll spend a lot of time during the rest of the film traveling to the annual Gathering of the Juggalos. The Gathering is a real-life event headlined by ICP and featuring dozens of artists in the juggalo family, in addition to comedians, burlesque and magic shows, vendors, camping, and much more. Director Nathan Tape deftly interjects real footage of Gathering participants and activities throughout the film, giving the viewer a taste of what it might be like to actually attend, offered up with commentary on the community found within. 

Tape delivers with the script and the direction, particularly as he sets the scene in Middle America: kids doing wheelies on their bikes in the middle of a desolate gas station parking lot on a hot summer day, dogs running wild in the fields, older folks bumbling around a sleepy diner and reading the paper, all punctuated by these two juggalos, getting reacquainted, listening to music, and speaking the language of the Gathering — “Whoop whoop” is used as an answer of agreement or celebration, the phrase “the carnival provides” used as a universal axiom when something lucky happens. Silas was the real highlight of the movie for me, introducing me to actor Scott Turner Schofield, who I’m sure to keep an eye on, proves to be surprisingly deft at delivering of-the-moment juggalo raps and freestyles. The movie never deviates from the world in which it lives, so convincing that it left me wondering if the actors themselves were juggalos. (From what I can tell they aren’t, or at least don’t claim to be, but it must have been a fun world to live in for awhile.) 

We follow the two juggalos through capers and hijinks that eventually get them in trouble with the law, before they hide out at Scarecrow’s place (an ex-juggalo who has his own private reasons for hating Trey, reasons relating to his expulsion from the scene). Here we meet Eden (essentially the third lead), the younger sister of Scarecrow. Eden isn’t a juggalette herself, but could be easily swayed by Trey and Silas because of how badly she longs to escape her brother and her lonely lifestyle. An early scene with Eden provides my favorite line in the movie, when she comments how she could never get into ICP because of the lyrics and Trey answers “Oh, it ain’t literal though, songs are just, like, little mini horror films, set to a dope ass beat.” In a more intimate scene between Silas and Eden, the movie shows surprising sensitivity, exploring the harsh reality of childhood for most juggalos: addict parents, family members who simply go missing, queer bashing, limited prospects in life. Suddenly the scene makes more sense to me. It’s reminiscent of some of the queer family I’ve built around myself, and punctuates the true message behind Off Ramp: the strength of the juggalo movement lies in the acceptance of others, the support of chosen family, and the need to feel loved and together even when that can be hard to find elsewhere.

However, as a piece of entertainment and not a dissection of juggalo lifestyles and chosen family, Off Ramp stumbles in the second half as the film becomes less a story about the juggalos themselves and more about the ridiculous situation they find themselves in. What begins as a road story with two lovable losers, devolves into a jumbled mess of gross-out humor, crooked cops, at-home c-sections, shootouts, and mutilation ceremonies. In a world in which the story you write can be about literally anything, writers Nathan Tape and Tim Cairo take the off ramp to a convoluted backroad maze of “and then what if THIS happened?” until the story veers into violence, costumery, one-liners, and gunfire. I would have been much happier if we simply followed these juggalos to the Gathering, got to know them and saw them interact with others in the real world. These were the places where the movie really shined. 

All in all, whether you’re a juggalo, merely a juffalo poser in your shiny new ICP gear, or totally outside the scene altogether, there’s something for you in Off Ramp. I can forgive the movie for its Pineapple Express-esque devolution into ridiculous action sequences because, now that I’m a few days removed from watching it, all I really remember is the humor and camaraderie the film spent so long building. I can’t say if Off Ramp will be your new favorite movie, but I can say it surely won’t be one you regret watching.