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Cult Review
Senior Film Conservator
If you have a soft spot for gothic misery and don't mind a movie that moves like molasses in winter, you might find something to love here. But honestly, if you need a plot that moves faster than a Victorian funeral procession, keep scrolling. This is for the people who like their cinema to feel like a dusty, haunted attic.
The whole experience feels like it’s being held together by duct tape and sheer willpower. Isabel Vecki is doing a lot of heavy lifting with just her eyes, which is good because there isn't much else to look at besides the canvas.
Speaking of the canvas—the portrait itself is a weird, unsettling prop. It looks like it was painted by someone who was actively having a panic attack, which I guess is the point. It’s deeply uncomfortable.
The movie lingers on reaction shots for so long that I started wondering if my internet connection had stalled. There is a moment where the painter just stares at the brush, then the paint, then his wife, then back to the brush. It goes on for about thirty seconds too long, and you can practically feel the air leaving the room.
It’s not quite on the level of Angelo, das Mysterium des Schlosses Drachenegg in terms of sheer weirdness, but it tries its best to be moody. Maybe a bit too hard, actually.
It reminds me a little bit of the claustrophobia in Hungry Hearts, but without the high-stakes tension. It’s a quiet burn that occasionally flickers out completely. 🕯️
At the end of the day, it’s a weird, uneven little project. It doesn't quite stick the landing, and some of the dialogue feels like it was dragged out of a textbook. Still, I’m glad I watched it, even if I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe just to say I did. 🎨