Durry’s sophomore album This Movie Sucks is anything but disappointing — despite the intentionally self-deprecating title. What began as a viral TikTok project has matured into a fully realized musical identity for sibling duo Austin and Taryn Durry. Their latest release is a bold, deeply personal collection of songs that blend pop-punk punch, indie introspection, and working-class wit. If their 2022 debut Suburban Legend was a coming-of-age snapshot, then This Movie Sucks is the awkward sequel that confronts adulthood head-on — clumsy, unfiltered, and full of heart.
The album kicks off with “Bully,” a ferocious opening track that sets the tone with crunchy guitars, shout-along vocals, and pointed lyrics aimed at online toxicity. It’s a defiant anthem that balances sarcasm and sincerity, with Austin growling “greetings, people of the internet” like a battle cry. There’s a rawness to the track — not just in sound but in spirit — that mirrors the album’s larger themes of burnout, disillusionment, and emotional transparency.
Throughout This Movie Sucks, Durry proves they aren’t afraid to jump between tones, genres, or emotional registers. The second track, “Monopoly Money,” is a catchy, upbeat rocker with a biting critique of economic inequality. Its verses are stacked with sarcastic references to capitalism’s hollow promises, and the chorus sticks with you in the best way. This theme of frustration—particularly with modern life’s grind and contradictions—appears throughout the record, making it one of the most consistent narrative threads.
The title track slows things down a bit. “This Movie Sucks” leans into lofi melancholy, with Austin reflecting on life as if it's a film he’d rather turn off. There’s an honesty here that stings. The song doesn't offer solutions or uplift; it sits in the discomfort and allows it to breathe. The simple beauty of the song softens the blow, providing a quiet contrast to the distorted chaos of earlier tracks.
Other songs like “Porcupine” and “More Dumb” explore emotional messiness through metaphor and anxiety-laced lyrics. “Porcupine” is more restrained, showcasing a matured sense of composition, while “More Dumb” turns a spiral of self-doubt into something almost anthemic. Not every metaphor lands perfectly, but the vulnerability behind each one is what holds the album together. At its core, this is a record that embraces its imperfections, much like the lives it tries to depict.
In tracks like “Start a Band,” Durry revisits their DIY roots. It’s an energetic, punk-fueled reminder of why they started making music in the first place. There’s a triumphant urgency to the song, a rallying cry for misfits who found their voice through power chords and cheap microphones. Meanwhile, “Wannabe” and “Polaroid” dial things back a bit, offering a more nostalgic, melodic break. These songs carry a bittersweet tone — snapshots of youth and longing that help balance the album’s more frenetic moments.
One of the album’s most standout tracks is “idk i just work here,” a hilarious yet heartbreaking anthem for anyone feeling crushed by dead-end jobs and unfulfilled potential. It walks the fine line between satire and sincerity, with lyrics like “maybe I’ll win the lottery, buy myself a lobotomy.” The production is tight, and the delivery hits hard — it’s the kind of song that feels both timely and timeless.
Later in the album, Durry dives deeper into grief and emotional healing. “The Long Goodbye” is perhaps the most delicate track on the album — a stripped-down acoustic number that processes loss with aching honesty. There’s no bombast, no pretense — just quiet reflection and raw feeling. It’s followed by “Slug Bug,” a surprisingly hopeful closer that begins in folk territory and builds into something more expansive. With harmonicas and layered harmonies, the song feels like a gentle exhale at the end of a chaotic journey.
Production-wise, This Movie Sucks marks a noticeable step forward. Working with producer Phil Odom (whose credits include Say Anything and Turnover), the band has expanded its sonic palette without sacrificing its scrappy charm. The record still feels homemade in spirit — rough edges and all — but the improved mixing and fuller instrumentation give each song more weight. This isn't a glossy reinvention but rather a thoughtful evolution.
Lyrically, the album is sharp and often self-aware. Durry excels at writing from the middle — not heroes, not villains, just real people trying to get by. Whether they’re poking fun at social media hysteria, venting about workplace drudgery, or quietly mourning the past, their lyrics never feel performative. There's a refreshing honesty to their voice, even when the rhymes stretch a bit too far or the choruses veer into cliché. The imperfections are part of the charm.
As a whole, the album flows well, though there are a few moments where pacing dips or ideas feel recycled. That said, even the weaker tracks contribute to the album’s emotional arc. There’s a clear sense that the band put their whole selves into this record, unafraid to be messy, loud, soft, or downright weird.
Ultimately, This Movie Sucks is a striking example of what happens when a band decides to lean all the way into its contradictions. It’s equal parts punk snarl and folk confession, satire and sincerity, DIY grit and polished production. While it may not be flawless, that’s precisely the point. This is an album for anyone who feels stuck, scared, or overlooked — for anyone who’s ever said, “I hate this movie,” while quietly hoping the ending gets better.
Durry may not offer a resolution, but they offer something better: company. And for 38 minutes, This Movie Sucks makes the chaos feel a little less lonely — and a lot more alive.
This Movie Sucks is available wherever you stream or purchase music!