Cult Review
Senior Film Conservator

If you like movies that feel like a rainy Tuesday where you forgot your umbrella, you’ll dig this. People who need a plot that moves faster than a tired snail should probably steer clear. It’s definitely not for the popcorn-chomping crowd.
Ben Blue is the whole show here. He’s got this way of looking at a coffee mug like it’s a portal to another dimension. Sometimes it works, and sometimes I just wanted him to take a sip and get on with it.
There’s this scene where he’s just sitting in a chair, listening to the hum of a refrigerator. It lasts for a full minute, maybe more. I caught myself checking my phone, but then I realized the hum was actually the point. It’s that kind of movie—it demands patience you probably didn't sign up for.
It reminded me a bit of the aimless dread in I'll Be Alone After Midnight. Both films seem allergic to traditional pacing. They’d rather just let the air settle in the room until it gets thick.
I can’t tell if the director meant for the lighting to look like a dying fluorescent bulb, but it totally works. It makes everything feel just a little bit grosser than it actually is. It’s weirdly effective.
I wouldn't compare it to The Bluffer, which at least had the decency to be loud occasionally. This thing is a whisper that stays a whisper for ninety minutes. It’s not profound, it’s just… quiet. Maybe too quiet? 😴
I’m still not sure if I liked it or if I was just mesmerized by how little was happening. You walk away feeling like you need a nap or a very strong drink. Either way, it sticks to your ribs for a few hours after the screen goes black.
Year
1932
IMDb Rating
—

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Deciphering the legacy of transgressive cult cinema.
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