Rating: C
Dir: Jamie Langlands
Star: Meghan Adara, Neil James, Charlotte Marshall, Mickaela Sands
I… have questions. In fact, I’m not sure I was particularly better informed as the end credits rolled, than I was five minutes into this. I don’t mind films which present riddles. I have less tolerance for films which only present riddles. And this film is like a ninety minute session with a therapist who keeps saying, “Well, what do you think?” It begins effectively, Abigail (Adara) waking to find herself locked up in the titular location. With the aid of her bra (!), she is able to escape, and begins exploring her surroundings. Very. Slowly. Seriously, at times it felt like watching the DMV sloth from Zootopia, in the form of a final girl. Show some urgency! Hello!
It’s an addiction metaphor. Isn’t it? No, I think it is. While she’s exploring, we get scenes of a support group, where she and other people tell their stories to the unctuous facilitator, Gabriel (James). Except, she also encounters them in her world, often with red, snake-like eyes. They may have been abducted, as is suggested by the series of missing posters we see. It feels very much like Abigail’s struggles are intended to represent her problems with addiction. Unfortunately, I am no fan of “metaphor horror”, from Eraserhead through to The Babadook. Or, at least, your film needs to stand on its own merits first. Ginger Snaps is metaphor horror done right – because it’s simply a great werewolf movie.
Oh, hang on. Maybe she’s dead. This became my working theory in the second half. Abigail looks just about to escape, then encounters a snake-eyed woman, and finds herself now exploring a (Victorian era?) house. Is this Level 2 of a video-game? If so, can someone please press the “Run” button? Because Abigail still hasn’t found that Urgency power-up. She does use the phone, except nobody she calls in the outside world can hear her. This is what had me suspecting she had died. I was expecting a final shot of Abigail, lying in a hospital bed while a machine went BEEEEEEEEEP. Not really a spoiler: there is no such shot. That would be too easy.
And now, for something completely different. Despite the above, this genuinely isn’t a bad movie. Rather irritating, sure. But that’s likely more on me. There are bad movies where nothing much happens: if I ever can be arsed to sit through all of Skinamarink, you will hear about it. This is nowhere near as mind-numbing. The performances are decent, especially Adara, who squeezes a lot out of her little dialogue. Technically, it’s fine too. Langlands knows where to put the camera, and the score by Cristian Parras does its job, hovering like an auditory dark cloud over proceedings. If there’s one single problem here, I would point at the film’s momentum – or lack thereof. It feels almost like an experiment, designed to determine how long an audience will tolerate symbolism, before asking “Is this a horror movie?” Per my spousal guinea-pig, the answer is 27 minutes and 38 seconds.
[The film is streaming now on Amazon Prime]