Almost the whole time I was watching this I had the smell of the summer subway in my, uh, mind’s nose. Not as bad as it sounds: The occasional hot-garbage blast aside, it’s a warm, tangy funk that can be strangely comforting.
OK, maybe only in hindsight...
Where other reviewers here perceived the overbearing loneliness, longing, and isolation of the city (all of which lurk there and in the movie for sure), I was taken back to that feeling of…
“A lot of people originally accused me of being exploitive, which is not the case. If anybody was being exploited, it was me.” —Trent Harris, on his original Groovin’ Gary footage
Um, no.
No.
Most effective as a subverted Disney princess movie: The male dreamboat turns up too late to do much good, and doesn't even take measures to keep his beloved from choking on her own spit-up; the cute animal sidekick considers said spit-up a meal; the villain can't wait to make a meal out of our heroine; she buys him lunch.
Least effective as a scary shark movie: The CGI monster is too weightless to be menacing, and it's grumpy and vindictive…
The title’s practically meaningless, a lure to get inveterate horror fans to sit still for a movie that pivots on loss, lies, attachment fear, bloodthirsty patriarchal ineptitude, and a pair of fatal acts of kindness. Horror is what we do to each other, kids.
I have no problem with this approach, especially in a film that uses interior space and light so beautifully and that wields dread-for-the-sake-of-dread with such expertise. I had low expectations going into this, all of them were exceeded.
