A sleek crime thriller that appears to be out of place at a Horror festival until the last two minutes. Two minutes that also manage to elevate this really good film into a great one.
The loan-shark as an unstoppable force of cold terror, embedded in a heartfelt love letter to tatty British towns that eventually erupts in crazed catharsis.
And if that's not enough Charlie Chuck's in it. Fucking win all round.
Filmed entirely on 'smart glasses' giving it the feel of a successfully extended V/H/S segment, with occasional software displays that pop up and support the film in clever little ways.
(Frightfest Day 2)
An astonishing intermingling of ape and human behaviours that is completely unlike anything you've ever seen or will ever see.
Jam packed with shitting and sex too.
It was nice to not have to sit through the half hour of setup haunted house movies usually subscribe too. It was good to see a unique skew on the usual phenomena which kept all the chills intact. It was disappointing that there wasn't more commitment to the ideas expressed in the last third.
Provoked more discussion than any other FF film so far this year though.
Essentially plays the same trick twice - build a situation up to a level of offensive repugnance before going 'Aha! Real life is horrible it's not like the movies!' despite the fact that this is a movie and most definitely not real life.
There were points during this when I had genuine concerns over whether it was actually going to end. Then when an ending did drag itself across the screen it was so bad I wished the film had just kept going.
A very particular blend of OTT gore and beat perfect comedy timing that I haven't seen since Jackson's early days. Only two films in and it's gonna be a struggle to beat 'Run through by a plastic unicorn mounted on a BMX' in the best death stakes. King.
A script with no concept of what a human relationship actually is interpreted in monotone by actors who struggle with any emotion beyond 'apathy', all rendered unintelligible by editing that expertly destroys all sense of time and geography. The director presumably just sat back and watched to see who could piss on his bonfire the most.
Aims for a European arthouse cinema vibe but is spoilt by the usual Hollywood trappings of overwrought music and signposted twists.
Which doesn't necessarily make for a bad thing, ask yourself when was the last time you went to a multiplex and got a half-decent Haneke pastiche? In that context, a thundering achievement.