astrid rose’s review published on Letterboxd:
direction is generally distinctive (if only because its patience is out of step with current trends), and i liked the colin stetson score. but the script utterly falls apart in the final third, doling out funhouse scares and literal boxes of exposition while collette’s character evaporates. like, literally, at the peak of the film’s uneasy conflation of mental illness and ... satanism (?), collette is bewitched or glamoured and that is the last we see of her. after that she is a bald-faced plot device.
it becomes difficult to appreciate this movie’s ostensibly raw emotion, its bleeding trauma, when it ends up treating mental health so glibly. &&& the utter gaping horror of a scene early on, which cuts mercilessly to a truly repulsive and unsettling image, unbalances the movie. the rest is solid, content in its genre literacy but fated to follow in those footsteps as surely as its characters 😫😫😫
(((also some shameless allusions in the vein of one yorgos lanthimos)))