Naturally, it's a very claustrophobic little picture, airless and
suffocating despite the sunlight and its deceptive warmth and it's clear
from the first close-up of Moss' tear-stained face that stability isn't
really her forte and as the film progresses, jumping back and forth in
time, it soon becomes clear you wouldn't want to spend time with either
of these women.
It's also brilliantly written by Perry in that literary style we've become accustomed to. Indeed, this is one of those films you might actually want to read and it's clear it's not aimed at what we might call 'a general audience', (even more than "Listen Up, Philip" this is 'New Yorker Art-House'), and even at a compact 90 minutes it's a fairly gruelling experience, like being a fly on the wall at someone's psychoanalysis. Consequently, it is both disturbing and a masterclass in acting and the best psychological horror movie I have seen in a very long time.
It's also brilliantly written by Perry in that literary style we've become accustomed to. Indeed, this is one of those films you might actually want to read and it's clear it's not aimed at what we might call 'a general audience', (even more than "Listen Up, Philip" this is 'New Yorker Art-House'), and even at a compact 90 minutes it's a fairly gruelling experience, like being a fly on the wall at someone's psychoanalysis. Consequently, it is both disturbing and a masterclass in acting and the best psychological horror movie I have seen in a very long time.
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