FILM REVIEW: TURNSTILE: NEVER ENOUGH
A strong companion to one of 2025's best albums.
Judging by the multiple allusions to prison bars within the film for Turnstile's latest album, the peak can be lonely. The film's first few minutes mostly sees the five band members jamming apart from one another in increasingly different locales. Brendan Yates calmly rides a jet ski across tranquil water. Daniel Fang pummels his drum kit in a desert full of empty seats. Franz Lyons, Meg Mills and Pat McRory shred in busy crosswalks, snow-covered mountains and lush hills. Much of this project is about searching for solace both lyrically and visually, and asks the question: where does one go when you reach the top? Turnstile have reached an unprecedented height for a hardcore band, and they've been poked, prodded and questioned frequently for their genre authenticity. But don't let the naysayers or the film's muted color scheme fool you; TURNSTILE: NEVER ENOUGH brims with life, and vocalist/director Yates finds plenty of arresting compositions to prove exactly why the band belongs.
Some of the film's most interesting shots are its simplest. The overhead shots of Yates splitting the sea on his jets ski across the film, as well as him performing as a crowd meshes around him in slow motion, are particularly engaging. The still shots of light fixtures during "CEILING" reframe household staples in an artful manner; the two Brendan Yates in this part couldn't be more despondent. Yates often looks lost in thought as he sings, rarely matching the intensity of his singing voice with his body language. The band is doused in rain on "SUNSHOWER" and plays with reckless abandon, yet Yates lays on the stage uninterested as he sings "This is where I wanna be/but I can't feel a fucking thing". Same goes for "I CARE"; he's relegated to the couch while his bandmates perform one of the band's breeziest songs to date. Turnstile's recent work is full of melodious introspection, and that's fully represented through Yates' demeanor as chaos surrounds him.
But in the end, Turnstile is a band that was raised on raucous, loud environments, and there's solace to be found through the mayhem. There's a stage on a hillside that features throughout the film and brings about plenty of electricity in full speed and slow motion. "SOLE" rips like hell, aided by the crowd members jumping on and off the stage. A mob of blurred figures races towards a sleeping Yates during the extended outro of "LOOK OUT FOR ME"; as he wakes up, his car and the crowd disappear from sight. There's a clear comfort within this crowd, and Yates fills each shot with enough movement to convey this without being too overwhelming. These scenes full of humanity are so engaging it makes you question the choice of Baltimore b-roll in "DREAMING" and the kaleidoscopic mush in "SLOWDIVE"; neither sequence fits with the way the rest of the film looks.
Further along, the shot-in-reverse "SEEIN' STARS" grabs you with a circle of jumpers clad in white. They move like the waves of the sea; water makes plenty of appearances across TURNSTILE: NEVER ENOUGH. It's the ultimate palette cleanser to dance through for the closing "MAGIC MAN", and the film's opening and closing credits are set waves washing over a blue shore. In between, the band's search for meaning is plenty beautiful on the eyes. The way the spotlights on "LIGHT DESIGN" line up with the synths is as cool a sight as you'll see on a music-related visual in 2025. For a band who crosses genres as fluidly as Turnstile does, it comes as little surprise they can change art mediums and stay compelling.
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