Rating: D
Dir: Matthew Cichella
Star: Arianna Lexus, Zach Meiser, Lester E. Hart, Cheterra McCray
If you squint at the film here from a certain angle, under highly flattering lighting, you can see how it could have turned out… Well, “good” still remains a stretch, but under different circumstances, it could potentially have been acceptable. It’s one of those productions which attempts to weave multiple threads together. This isn’t an easy task for the most skilled of directors. And, guess what? Cichella is not, on the basis of this, among the most skilled of directors. He can barely cope with one plot, never mind three. Although the biggest problem here, is likely that the movie focuses on what is easily the least interesting story, inhabited by the thespians of smallest talent.
That would be the story of Emily (Lexus) and Joe (Meiser), whose marriage is not a content one, Joe being abusive to the point where Emily is teetering on the edge of taking her own life. After a particularly unpleasant New Year’s Eve party, the unhappy couple find themselves on the receiving end of a home invasion from Cash (Hart) and Dice (McCray). They form two-thirds of a gang who robbed a nearby bar, and are in need of somewhere to hide out, until the heat dies down. Key word: two-thirds. The other member of the group, still roaming the neighbourhood, is the dangerously psychotic wild-card. Y’know – the one whose presence is contractually required in every such collection of cinematic wrongdoers.
Meanwhile, heading the hunt for the perpetrators is Deputy Sheriff Kane (Lauren Elyse Buckley). She is having to contend with colleagues who would rather be elsewhere on New Year’s Day, or whose competence can legitimately be called into question. The world-weary female cop, or dissent in the ranks among the criminals, are not exactly novel concepts. However, exploring them in more depth, would certainly be preferable to enduring endless scenes of Emily being all “Woe is me!” It’s pretty damn hard to screw up audience sympathy for an abused wife, and under no circumstances do I condone spousal violence. That said, if I was married to Emily, I’d probably start drinking heavily, and – as Joe does – run out on her at the first opportunity.
There are a number of other problems here. A bad audio mix, with the copious songs far louder than the dialogue. Indeed, it opens with what feels like three consecutive music videos, including what can only be described as a knock-off version of Marilyn Manson’s Sweet Dreams cover. I found myself weirdly entranced with the crap way the home invaders tie Emily and Joe to the radiator (top). You couldn’t escape that? Really? If you are able to negotiate all these impediments, you will reach an ending in which, out of nowhere and while no longer in imminent danger, Emily suddenly goes from “wouldn’t say boo to a mouse” to “cold-blooded killer.” None of this makes a lot of sense, and nor is there sufficient entertainment value to be found.