Filipe Furtado’s review published on Letterboxd:
When god forsaken the action is the point, but every cruel thing has still t be perfected ordained by a superior auteurial hand. So laughable bad one wishes Campos' wasn't so humorless as cynical self-parody hateful as it might be would be a step up. It tries to combine those two literary traditions, hard boiled pulp and southern gothic with an eye for their combine tastes for misery and depravity, but this isn't an O'Connor/Thompson mashup but one of those godawful late 90s alt country bands who decide hickxploitation is the way to big town rock critics attention. The off screen narration has a very good feel for lurid detail and twisted prose, but the images are plain and literal minded (there might be no worst moment in a 2020 American feature than when Campos decide he need to insert a flashback to connect the dots between father/son violence that the least attentive audience member would've caught). I don't have much problem with how grotesque and sadistic the material is that it is so artless and desperate to suggest a statement that never comes seems worse. Clarke psycho who can only get off by recording his victims is the closest Campos has to a stand-in only the film has no guts to admit that. The film keep having pleasure with its own depravity but playing it safe, tateful and distant. As a finnal note, the non-suicide suicide is as big a hoot as Pattinson's awful accent but has half off its flair and that kinda is this movie in a nutshell.