85m of fucking, slow Fulci-esque zombies, Jim Henson's Dario Argento Baby, some fucked-up Freudian shit, increasingly Rube Goldbergian deaths, and an unceasingly nightmarish procession of gardens surrounded by walls. It's great.
This review may contain spoilers. I can handle the truth.
Hey girl. Sorry you're too young and too small to do anything about global warming, your poverty, your father's horrendous parenting style, your missing mom, your terrible schooling, your community's penchant for alcoholism and general unwindulaxing, and being inculcated with values that emphasize the masculine ("beast it") to the detriment of the feminine ("don't be a pussy"). Oh yeah, and your father dying.
But hey! You stood up to some imaginary monster pigs, so good for you.