Rats in paradise! Rats in paradise!
"There are moments when we cannot believe that what is happening is really true. Pinch yourself and you may find out that it is."
Axioms of terror and of God being dead.
The sun as hatred, beaming down in sweltering rays of torturous heat, so hot that the sweat dries before it can evaporate rendering the function cruel. Paint peels from bubbles formed by boiling when wet. The old lake is gone with nothing but dust left, waiting to stick…
There is no fire, there is no brimstone. It is not tangible and it is not a place. Hell is a mystic infection, left benign behind a gate of clay. A crude mausoleum of black magic marked only with the symbol of Eibon and containing the swirling pulse of an evil purity clinging to a destroyed corpse defiled by liasons of metal and blood inside the open flesh of gaping wounds, preserved in solidified lime.
"Jesus Christ is the answer"…
It's that washed out fucked lighting SOV aesthetic where it takes you a while to realise it isn't black and white, and it's unreasonably fitting for the vibe. As is the off-strip Vegas setting that really coulda just been anywhere because its all non-entity side street alleys and non-entity corridors and non-entity apartments that look like various parts of unfinished hotel rooms that lay themselves out as off-putting canvases for Schwartz to paint his only works on with hard bristled…
More or less a short-form trial run of Debbie Does Damnation, Brummer obviously having a magnum opus in mind from the get go. It's got the same plot basis of woman awakens in hell-as-cheap-apartment and a few of the wacky evil-evilish clay characters guiding her through the way, only it doesn't descend into the sword'n'sorcery bollocks and it's all the better for it.
I'm fairly certain, if memory serves me correctly, that the same door in Damnation has the word…
Pure absolutely distilled schlocky bullshit. Like an episode of NCIS where the perp is Brandon Lee from The Crow as a parkour contortionist electro-ghost for about an hour, then it completely jumps off the rails like them good old Duke Boys traversing a river with a broken bridge to evade the coppers, only instead of having moonshine stashed in the footwell, they've got stolen Frank Henenlotter scripts.
James Wan has made this for a specific audience, and it is not 90% of the modern general horror-populae, evidenced by everyone else in the cinema actively hating it. Go in blind.
Fucking masterwork. Every single realm of hell you could possibly imagine plus 100 more manifested in painstaking, meticulous and intricate details and made relentless. A 30 year journey that Tippett himself said ended up in mental breakdown and let me tell you this is the mental breakdown and its populated by landfills of other mental breakdowns killing for fun, pleasure and through sheer routine. I could write thousands of words with paragraphs containing 60 adjectives, and I want to and…