A road-trip movie driven by good vibrations and the joy of making music, Katherine Propper’s debut feature, Lost Soulz, begins with an aspiring musician named Sol—played with unbothered, introverted charm by rapper Suave Sidle—leaving home for the first time. He joins up with a Brockhampton-esque group of rap-crooners as they head for a gig in El Paso. It’s a long journey, especially for seven people packed into the same van, but they pass the time easily by tooling around with new lyrics, telling stories, and just goofing off.
The sheer number of bodies crammed in the van means that we don’t get to know these Gen-Zers too well. Seven (Aaron Melloul) is a broody troublemaker and Mao (Alexander Brackney) is a wild-haired, good-natured big fella with a sweet set of pipes. Froggy (Micro TDH) is a versatile Latino rap-singer who slips seamlessly between styles and languages, while Big Loko (Tauran Ambroise) carries himself in an endearingly dozy way. Finally, we have Kai (Malachi Mabson) and the group’s manager, Nina (Krystall Poppin), whose duties range from scheduling their on-road activities to sweet-talking the police whenever one of them gets into trouble.
Lost Soulz is less interested in fleshing any of these characters out than it is in simply reveling in the energy between them. The film’s soundtrack, crafted by the cast themselves, offers an intoxicating mix of upbeat party tracks and hazier, more introspective tunes. At one point along the road, the group books time in a studio to try and get some new music recorded. Watching them build a track, line by line, feeling their way toward the right rhyme scheme, is electrifying. A version of this scene happens in almost every musical biopic, but they rarely have the sense of organic creation that shines through so brightly in Lost Soulz.
The freestyles continue once they’re back on the road: One character starts a verse and hands it over to someone else, and before long, everyone is passing the beat around the van like a hacky sack. The film moves in the same easy, unstructured way, with one scene fading into another, hours and days melting together under the Texan sun. It often snaps into the skinny format of a TikTok video or grainy Super 8 footage, giving the whole movie a scrap-bookish feel.
That’s really what Lost Soulz is about—an attempt to capture the moment even as it’s escaping you. Graffiti is a recurring motif, with the crew doodling on almost every unattended surface they come across. A bit of color splashed on to the world to simply say, “I was here.”
Late in the film, we hear a Biblical quotation—“One generation passes away, and another comes…The sun also rises, and the sun goes down, and hastens to the place where it arose”—that the whole group already knows in their bones by that point. This sun-dappled part of their lives can’t last forever. The ride will end, they’ll reach their destination, and, at some point, probably have to spend their time doing something other than hanging out and making music.
During the last leg of the journey, Lost Soulz adds in a couple of clumsily dramatized scenarios, including some thinly motivated character conflicts and two instances of drug overdoses. These moments all have the feel of a film trying too hard to land a major theme or a heavy emotional moment. And it really doesn’t need to, because it’s at its best when coasting on pure vibes.
In a scene halfway through the film, the group takes a ride through a wildlife park. They’re all deliriously happy to be interacting with the animals, cracking jokes and laughing the whole way. And then, as they’re brought back to the entrance, Loko sadly asks something that encapsulates the melancholy lingering on the edges of this sunny, joyful road movie: “It’s already over?”
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