Tag: psycho

Aileen Wuornos: American Boogeywoman

  By

★★
“Till death do she part.”

Almost twenty years after her execution, Aileen Wuornos remains a cultural icon. A very rare example of a genuine female serial killer, she was killed by lethal injection in 2002, after being convicted of six murders, and confessing to a seventh. The following year, Charlize Theron won an Oscar for her portrayal of Wuornos in Monster, though for me, the film about the killer which is the best, is Nick Broomfield’s, Aileen Wuornos: The Selling of a Serial Killer. It certainly deserves to be ranked among my favorite documentaries of all time, along with its post-execution follow-up, Aileen Wuornos: Life and Death of a Serial Killer. Any other version is going to have an uphill struggle in comparison, and this peters out into a trashy, tabloidesque tale, with perilously little connection to reality.

It does have an interesting structure, with a Broomfield stand-in (Sturgeon) interviewing Wuornos, the night before her execution. At this point, the killer is played by Ashley Atwood, and the make-up crew have done an amazing job, along with Atwood’s capturing of her target’s mannerisms. Wuornos then tells the interviewer the story of her short-lived marriage to yacht club president Lewis Fell (Bell), almost five decades her senior. During this, she confesses to several murders, including that of her brother, though the interviewer pulls her up, as her version doesn’t align with the known facts. This “unreliable narrator” element has potential, but is rapidly discarded – a shame, as what the film offers instead is rather pedestrian.

Overall, it’s not much more than a truish-crime take on pot-boilers like the Poison Ivy franchise, in which attractive young gold-diggers embed themselves in families, before revealing their murderous natures. Here, the young Wuornos (List), considerably more attractive than the Death Row version, charms her way into marrying Fell after just a couple of weeks, much to the concern and chagrin of his daughter, Jennifer (Hearst). We’ve already established Wuornos’s violent tendencies, and these escalate until she murders the family lawyer, who threatens to expose what he has uncovered about her past, unless she takes his cash offer and leaves town. It all builds to a late-night confrontation on a boat in a storm, which I’m fairly certain is entirely fictional.

Farrands has carved out a niche for himself in this kind of not-so-true crime movie, his previous subjects having included Ted Bundy, the Manson killings and O.J. Simpson. Maybe they are more than a shallow skim, with stories which are not largely made up, and provide more insight into their subjects. This has little to offer, and doesn’t have the enjoyably salacious elements of Poison Ivy, even when Aileen is consummating her marriage to her husband. If it had told the story of Wuornos’s whole life, especially with more from Atwood, it could have been worthwhile, especially if embracing the uncertainty around her version of events. Instead, the only real positive result was discovering the two Broomfield documentaries are on YouTube. Guess what I’m watching tonight.

Dir: Daniel Farrands
Star: Peyton List, Tobin Bell, Lydia Hearst, Hamish Sturgeon

Confessions of a Homicidal Prostitute: Demonatrix

  By

★½
“Nice title. Shame about the film.”

I must confess I have not seen Confessions of a Homicidal Prostitute, to which this is a sequel. It’s marginally possible, I suppose, that the character development, story and nuance were present there, and explain why these are all but entirely absent in its successor. I would not, however, be prepared to bet on it. I suspect the original was every bit as mean-spirited as this: and “suspect” is all I’ll ever do, because I won’t be making any effort to track it down. In fact, I probably wouldn’t watch it if my aged mother begged me to on her death-bed. Too harsh? Perhaps. Yet I don’t think I’ve ever seen a flat-out uglier film, in terms of largely repellent people being extremely unpleasant to one another, shot in a way that exacerbates its grimness. In its defence, that may be the point. Again: may. It could also just be torture porn of the lowest-rent kind.

From what I can gather, Lilith (Baun) is the titular hooker; I’m not sure if the weird contact lens she wears in one eye is a tribute to Christina Lindberg and her eye-patch in Thriller: A Cruel Picture? Anyway, she apparently got pushed over the mental edge by abuse, and responded to violence with violence. Here, she introduces gal pal and fellow prostitute Eve (Shenk) to the lair where Lilith carries out her torture and slaying. Eve is remarkably blasé about the whole, potential “accessory after the fact” thing, and politely declines to get involved, saying “I don’t think I could stomach it… Not for me!” This reluctance lasts about 30 minutes into the film, where she gets brutalized by the vicious Jackson (McGinnis). All of a sudden, she’s rather more gung-ho, a tendency encouraged by Lilith (“The empowerment you feel after you kill this bastard, will be indescribable”). After initially both being caught and tortured by Jackson, the pair are able to turn the tables on their captor, taking their revenge and sodomizing him with a metal pole.

They then begin a two-woman killing spree, washing the scum off the streets. There’s a montage sequence here, which is quite effective, and rescues the film from receiving the dreaded one-star rating. But otherwise, we’re dealing with content which is cheap and poorly-executed, and possesses little or no emotional impact at all. Weirdly, given the topic and grindhouse-oriented title, the only nudity present is extremely fake penises being abused. Otherwise, it’s remarkably chaste. Though, to be honest, I’m fine with the lead actresses keeping their clothes on. No worries there. I’m good. With special effects that are largely unconvincing, this doesn’t even work as a gore flick, and there’s no sense of development of plot or characters. I got to the end with no sense of.. well, anything. I was neither entertained, educated or appalled. Overall, it’s the kind of film where I wonder if I’ve spent more time writing this review, than was actually spent making the movie.

Dir: Emir Skalonja
Star: Casey Baun, Krystal Shenk, Paul McGinnis, Richard Ruiz

Revenge is Her Middle Name

  By

★★½
“Junkie. Whore. Mother?”

This is an unashamedly grimy item, whose main character, Cat (Brennan), we first meet turning tricks in a back-alley. She then goes home to her equally addicted boyfriend, Dolph (Schneider), whom she is trying to convince to get her pregnant. Eventually, her mission succeeds, and to provide for their impending child, they rob their dealer. Cat then bails on Dolph, leaving him to take the fall, and gets her act at least somewhat cleaned up, with the help of friend Marilynn (Bellin). Eight months later, however, neighbourhood boss Mutton Chop (Bell), shows up on her doorstep with his thugs, and extracts a particularly vicious form of revenge. Seven further years pass, and Cat is just about back to normal, when the violent behaviour of a man she meets in a bar awakens her inner Ms. 45. She’s soon cutting up his corpse with a hacksaw and stuffing it into garbage bags, then progresses to extracting long-dormant vengeance on her attackers.

There’s no doubt, this wears its grindhouse attitude mostly on its sleeve – except for a strange unwillingness on the part of its lead actress, to take off her clothes. There’s no shortage of gore, certainly, and it’s the kind of film after which you’ll probably want to take a shower. It wallows, unapologetically, in the worst that human nature has to offer. However, that’s as much a flaw as a strength. This kind of film works best – indeed, works at all – when you can feel some sympathy for the protagonist as she goes through hell. Here, that’s not the case. Cat is hardly a nice person, and is perhaps the best argument for forced sterilization I’ve seen in a long time: she hardly seems fit to be a mother, and comes over as an entirely selfish creature. Dolph is no more than a sperm-donor, and she spurns all Marilyn’s efforts to help her, until Cat wants them. The person I feel most sorry for, is her foetus.

The look of the film is considerably more low-fi than the poster, though it’s not inappropriate to the generally scuzzy atmosphere. It could probably have benefited from some trimming, as there are points where things do drag. The actual “revenge” which appears in large, red letter on the promo image, doesn’t arrive until well into the second half. I’d likely have started by editing out the pair of detectives, who serve no purpose at all. This is the kind of movie which needs to keep moving forward in order to hold the audience’s attention, as most of the performances are little more than functional, especially among the cartoonish villains. Credit to Brennan though, for going full throttle into her portrayal. By the end of this, if I was still some way short of liking her character, Cat was someone I’d certainly not want to cross. If I have no interest in seeing this again, I don’t feel as if the time was entirely wasted.

Dir: Anthony Matthews
Star: Lissa Brennan, Douglass Bell, Paula Bellin, Michael Todd Schneider

Brutal

  By

★★★
“Certainly lives up to its title.”

No-one does low-budget hyperviolence like the Japanese. Whether it’s pseudo-snuff like Guinea Pig: Flower of Flesh and Blood, or more fantastical entries such as Mutant Girls Squad, there have likely been more memorable entries from that country than any other. Note my use of the word “memorable”, as distinct from “good”, since they aren’t the same. I’d be hard pushed to recommend this to anyone, unless I knew they were predisposed to microbudget horror of a particularly savage type. I probably won’t ever watch it again. But I have to say this: I will remember it. As will Chris, who came in for the denouement, and was literally jaw-dropped by what she saw. I’m not going to spoil it, so apologies if some of what follows is a little vague.

The film is divided into three sections, and after the first one, called “Man”, you’ll be wondering what the hell it’s doing here. For it is a look at the work of a male serial killer (Butch), who kidnaps and tortures women. That’s basically it, for twenty minutes, and the director believes in getting as up close and personal as possible here, with many of the shots being literally “in the face” of either perpetrator or victim. This certainly enhances the claustrophobic intensity, though I could have done without the shaky-cam attempt to establish its cinema verite credentials. “Do you understand what I’m doing?” he demands of his prisoners. Sadly, the correct answer of “No, because you’re a loony” is never given.

Things get more interesting and relevant in the second section, “Woman”, where the roles are reversed. An unnamed woman (Ayano) honey-traps men back to her room, where she kills them. She has a particular fondness for repeated and enthusiastic stabbings in the crotch, which had me shifting uncomfortably on my chair. She’s also rather more psychologically inclined, conversing with her victims, rather than interrogating them. Though eventually, she brings home someone (Nishina) who is aware of her murderous intentions, and is intent on stopping her. The result is a bloody battle – again, shot in close-up – which swings one way then the other, before our “heroine” [quotes rarely used more advisedly] eventually prevails.

This sets up the third and final act, probably inevitably titled “Man and Woman”, in which the two killers cross paths. She follows him to his flat, apparently aware of his tendencies – how is never made clear. Barely have they crossed the doorstep before battle is joined. And if you thought the previous fight was vicious… Hoo-boy. This ends in a double-whammy of revelations, which make sense in one way – they’re clearly perfect for each other – but count among the more batshit crazy things I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen some things. While it is somewhat poignant, we know so little about any of the people involved (how could we learn much, given it’s barely an hour between opening and closing credits), the emotional impact is limited. Brutal though? Definitely.

Dir: Takashi Hirose
Star: Butch, Ayano, Takashi Nishina, Katrina Grey

Nicole

  By

★★★½
“Patience is a virtue.”

If you came into this with absolutely no previous knowledge (including the poster on the right!), you’d be forgiven if you spent the first forty minutes thinking this was an independent drama about the perils of professional dating life in the big city. Then, suddenly, it’s very not. But initially, it’s about Nicole (Shannon), who while she may be a little strange and anti-social, doesn’t seem all that far outside the bounds of normal behaviour. Well, I guess her carting a bottle of hard liquor to work, for drinking sessions in the bathroom, is somewhat problematic. Maybe her imagining dinner with her parents could be a bit of a red flag. [The film makes nice use of switching between b&w and colour, to separate reality from flashbacks and fantasy] But, all told, she’s fairly high-functioning.

That all changes when she goes out on a rare date with John (Green), whom she met through an online app. She’s simultaneously fending off advances from a co-worker (Busey) and neighbour (Lockhart) – it must be said, all the men here fall somewhere on the creepy/predatory spectrum. What we know, but Nicole initially does not, is that John is well toward the latter, with a fondness for date rape and every intention of adding Nicole to his list of dubious conquests. However, her day drinking has given her a remarkable tolerance for alcohol, so when he makes his move, she’s not as drunk as she should be, and fights back, with no shortage of vigour. As well as a knife. That’s where the tone of the film changes drastically. We’re not in Sex and the City any more, Toto.

The rest is considerably closer to pitch-black humour, as Nicole has to come to terms with the consequences of her actions. Realizing what John was intending, she decides simply to dispose of his body. This requires a late-night trip to the hardware store, where the Goth assistant nods approvingly at her selection of tools. Then there’s the actual dismemberment, not helped by John’s corpse continuing to talk to her throughout the process. For example, he requests a refill on his wine, only to realize it’s hard to drink since she’s removed his hands.

This disposal reminded me a little of A Good Woman is Hard to Find, though that was thoroughly serious. There are also elements of Ms. 45. in a blurring of the lines between reality and delusion, which are deftly handled. Regular readers won’t be surprised to learn I preferred this second half of the film. I was actually a bit disappointed things ended when they did, more or less with Nicole’s return to work, and in a maybe or maybe not more well-adjusted state. It felt there was mileage left on the table, with her further adventures as an IT worker, moonlighting as a killer of sexual predators. We can only hope for Nicole 2: Ax Me Anything at some point down the road.

Dir: James Schroeder
Star: Tamika Shannon, Stephen Green, Ke’Shawn Bussey, Tre Lockhart

Jesus I Was Evil

  By

★★★
“God told me to.”

While ultimately hamstrung, not least by its limited resources – this cost a mere five thousand dollars – it does what low-budget films should generally tend to do. That is, go where their better-off siblings dare not tread. In this case, that’s the forbidden territory of religion. Two young, female missionaries, Amber (Durand) and Martha (Crosland) are going door-to-door, seeking souls they can save and bring into the body of their church – clearly Mormon, going by the reference to Salt Lake City among other things, though operating under a pseudonym here! While their attractive shape proves successful at getting them in the door, the residents who don’t live up to the ladies’ high moral standards are in for a shock. For the two kill non-believers, with Amber in particular, having a zero tolerance policy. And she considers herself “saved”, basically giving her a free pass to do anything necessary in the name of the Lord.

Of course, inevitably there ends up being dissension in the ranks, when they encounter Christian (Price). For while he’s agnostic – and thus on Amber’s hit-list – Martha believes he’s a good person capable of being saved. His fate drives a wedge between the two women, and Martha has to decide what her faith really means, and whether loyalty to Amber is more important than her own personal convictions. Matters aren’t helped by the presence of an obnoxious Girl Guide (Welsh), also going door-to-door, selling cookies and crossing paths with the missionaries, or the creepy behaviour of the man in charge of the church.

It’s not exactly subtle, in terms of religious satire, with everyone in their group being portrayed as either a buffoon, hypocrite or flat-out insane. It’s a bit of a dead horse being flogged there. However, for the bulk of its running time, I found this surprisingly watchable. As you can perhaps see in the picture (right) Durand projects a vibe which reminded me of Katherine Isabelle. This is exactly the sort of wild-card personality you want for the role, and you could argue Amber is someone who is 100% committed to her cause. I guess in this light, you’ve got to respect that, even if the results are… a little excessive, shall we say?

It certainly doesn’t all work. There’s a subplot about Christian’s mother showing up, which doesn’t serve any purpose I could see. I was also a bit disappointed in the resolution of the Guide story-line, which everything indicated was going to go in a different direction. I was thinking (read: hoping!) for a hellacious catfight between Amber and her nemesis; instead, what we get feels almost as if they ran out of time and/or money, so had to wrap that thread up without enough of either. Yet for the price, hard to argue this isn’t good value. While not likely to change any minds, those with a suitably jaundiced view of religion going in, will likely get a good chuckle or two from its dark humour.

Dir: Calvin Morie McCarthy
Star: Airisa Durand, Melissa Crosland, Cameron Lee Price, Laura Welsh

Knock Knock

  By

★★★½
“I can only apologize, darling…”

This is the kind of film which makes for very uncomfortable date night viewing, simply because the situation presented is likely to lead to awkward conversations. Happily married architect Evan Webber (Reeves) has the house to himself for the weekend, his wife having gone with their two kids to the seaside, leaving him free to work on a project. A stormy night ensues, until a knock at the door, and he finds two lost young women, Genesis (Izzo) and Bel (de Armas), shivering on the doorstep. He can hardly make them stay there, so lets them in. Almost immediately, something is wrong, though initially this falls into the “Too good to be true” category. For they are nymphomaniac flight attendants, and inevitably – though after a credible struggle – Evan succumbs to their relentless charms.

The next morning, however, the reality proves less pleasant, and it’s all downhill from there. For the pair are avenging angels, honey-trapping married men, then savagely punishing them for their infidelity, and Evan is not their first victim. This development should be no real surprise if you’ve seen Roth’s other films, where bad things almost inevitably tend to result from good. A nice trip to Europe became kidnapping, torture and murder in Hostel. Social activism turned into cannibalistic dismemberment in Green Inferno. So the first half of this was largely an exercise in waiting for things to go wrong, along with strenuously assuring Chris that, in similar circumstances, my assistance would strictly be limited to passing them towels through the letter-box. I highly recommend not deviating from this answer, under any circumstances. For she was firmly convinced, whatever happened to Evan in the second half was well-deserved.

The resulting punishment is certainly not pleasant, with his home-life wrecked, both literally and figuratively. Though there were a couple of ways it could have been improved. Firstly, even with some straggly facial hair, he’s still Keanu Reeves, not exactly your average guy. He likely has to beat off real nymphomaniac flight attendants with a stick, on an everyday basis. It’d have been more effective with a more homely leading man, to whom the audience could relate. And I’d rather have seen Genesis and Bel evaporate like smoke in the night, leaving no evidence of their presence, save their impact on Evan. A little more subtlety, and less scrawling of “DADDY’S LITTLE WHORE” on the family portraits would have gone a long way here, I feel.

Still, Roth is not exactly known for his delicate approach to cinema, and as a blunt instrument illustrating in female form the perils of infidelity, this works well enough. It’s also a rare entry in the “home invasion” field where the invaders are entirely women. À l’interieur (Inside) is one of the few predecessors there, and it’s no shame this doesn’t quite reach the same heights of sheer insanity – very few movies do. It’s still a cautionary tale which had me shifting uncomfortably in my seat often enough to justify its existence, as well as casting wary glances over at Chris.

Dir: Eli Roth
Star: Keanu Reeves, Ana de Armas, Lorenza Izzo, Aaron Burns

Me, You, Madness

  By

★★
“American Psychette.”

I wanted to like this considerably more than I actually did.  The idea of a supremely self-aware female serial killer – not just comfortable in her psychoses, someone who actively revels in them? Colour me intrigued. Throw in any amount of eighties tunes, super-lush production design and photography, and this should have been right up my neon-lit alley. Yet, it very much runs out of steam. When perhaps the most memorable joke is an argument over the difference between a couch and a sofa… Yeah, there are some significant structural problems which need to have been addressed. 

The “heroine” (quotes used ironically) is hedge fund manager Catherine Black (Linton, also the writer), who has risen to the top with ferocious aggression. She has embraced her psychopathy, and in her beautifully appointed mansion, has multiple freezers full of dismembered bodies. Her next intended victim is Tyler Jones (Westwick), a con-man who is posing as an intended house-sitter. However, for the first time, Catherine finds herself unable to go through with her habitual slaughter, instead making an unexpected connection to the thief. Even after he absconds with one of her cars and a slew of her jewellery, part of her is still willing to forgive Tyler his trespasses, and brings him back by threatening to expose his previous crimes to the authorities. Yet will these new feelings of humanity and kindness be enough to overcome Catherine’s deep-seated and long-standing urges towards murder and cannibalism?

It appears this is Linton’s debut as both writer and director, and seems she bit off a bit more than she can chew. I think, in particular, it’s the script which is the issue. Crammed full of breaking the fourth wall and other advanced techniques, there’s no denying its ambition; unfortunately, Linton as writer doesn’t appear up to the task. Instead, she tries to run before she can walk, never managing to establish Catherine as a complex character. Indeed, it never puts enough effort into establishing her even as a murderous psychopath, until well after the point at which she has fallen for Tyler. That’s another problem, because the film doesn’t provide sufficient justification for thus: there’s precious little given to the audience that make us think, “I get what she sees in him,” rendering all that follows contrived and unconvincing.

While I certainly appreciated the nostalgic soundtrack, it does seem an odd choice given the contemporary setting – Linton was aged two when Blue Monday was originally released. Perhaps an older actress, such as a Naomi Watts or Catherine Zeta-Jones, would have been a better fit? But I guess, when you have decided you are going to be an actress, director and writer, and can find financing for it, then it’s full steam ahead. If much credit is due to her for seizing the opportunity, and there’s enough here to suggest a vision, it’s definitely too unpolished. She would likely be better off focusing on one area, rather than attempting to become a Jill of all trades.

Dir: Louise Linton 
Star: Louise Linton, Ed Westwick, Shuya Chang, Tyler Barnes

Braid

  By

★★½
“Uncomfortably numb”

For most films. I’ve usually got a fairly good idea of what is likely to be the final review grade, inside about 30 minutes. It may drift half a star up or down, but it’s relatively rare for there to be more variation than that. This would be one such case, which started off as underwhelming, went through a brief surge of “Oh, yeah – I get it!” in the middle, before returning to the mediocrity from whence it came. At various points, this could have been anywhere between ★½ and (although briefly) ★★★★. Well done, I guess?

It’s the story of two young women who are drug dealers: Petula (Waterhouse) and Tilda (Hay), though the former’s name is pronounced as “PET-chu-la” rather than “Pe-CHU-la. Which irritated me, for some reason. Anyway, a police raid leaves them eighty grand in the hole to their supplier. To fix this little issue, they resolve to visit and rob a strange little friend from their childhood, Daphne (Brewer). After the death of her parents, this thoroughly weird girl lives in a decrepit old mansion where there is, apparently, a safe full of cash, hidden somewhere on the property. Finding it will require Tilda and Petula to play along with Daphne’s very strange games of “Let’s pretend”. These are carried forward from their childhood days together, and the dealers will have to become Daphne’s child and a visiting doctor respectively.

As things progress, we gradually discover more about the trio’s earlier relationship. During that time, Daphne fell from a tree-house, perhaps a factor in her current idiosyncrasies, shall we say. But it also slowly becomes apparent that her guests may not be entirely stable either, especially after a cop (Cohen) comes calling at the house in search of them. The question of who is using who becomes increasingly blurred, and Daphne’s unbreakable house rules also start to look very ominous:  everyone must play, no outsiders are allowed, and nobody leaves. This is a world in which everything is uncertain, both for the characters and the viewer, and the dilapidated nature of the property reflects its owner’s grip on sanity.

At its worst, this is self-indulgent nonsense, in near-perpetual danger of vanishing up its own tree-house. At its best – probably the sequence backed by “Largo al factotum” from The Barber of Seville – it showcases some gorgeous cinematography and captures a glimpse into what experiencing being insane might feel like. The balance, unfortunately, is tilted toward the former, and it doesn’t help that there’s hardly a sympathetic angle to be found for any of the characters. I get the feeling there’s some deep symbolism intended here, such as each of the women being intended to represent aspects of a single personality, i.e. id, ego and superego. There may in reality be three girls, one or even none: perhaps the entire world in a fabrication of Daphne’s young mind after her accident. I don’t know. But, guess what? I find it kinda hard to care either.

Dir: Mitzi Peirone
Star: Madeline Brewer,  Imogen Waterhouse, Sarah Hay, Scott Cohen

She Wolf

  By

★★½
“The black-and-white widow.”

Turns out, interesting is not the same as good or entertaining. Who knew? If you watch this unaware, as I did, you are certainly going to be very, very confused initially. What’s important for you to know, is that the lead character is played by three completely different women (Lairana, Docampo and Ariza). This wasn’t because the first two died or anything: it’s a deliberate artistic choice, with the trio representing different aspects of her personality. It’s quite a trip, because they swap in and out between scenes as appropriate, or sometimes even during the same shot. There’s Lobo, the violent one; Rubia, the nymphomaniac; and Joven, who is shy and as close to normal as you’ll find here. You’ll understand why it took me a while to figure out what was going on.

Our “heroine” [or “heroines”?] is a serial killer, whose territory covers the streets and, in particular, the subway of Buenos Aires, the capital of Argentina. She preys on men, going back to their place and indulging in their sexual fantasies, before offing them with poison. [As the tag-line above suggests, I’d have said this was more the behaviour of a black widow than a she-wolf, though this is going off what I’ve seen on the Discovery Channel] But one of her targets – who almost gets her before she can get him – turns out to be a cop. Garcia He is hunting the serial killer – yet, not necessarily for justice, as there’s something creepily personal about his search. There’s also a young guy called Leo, living in her apartment building, for whom at least one of her personas begins to have feelings. And by that, I mean ones which do not involve his death.

This is certainly for mature audiences, with the sex scenes pulling almost no punches – some of the dialogue is perhaps more graphic than the images. However, it just goes to prove that sex is not intrinsically interesting (well, if you’re not taking part!), even when artfully photographed in moody black and white, as is almost exclusively the case here. Another issue is the lack of development. Until the final twenty minutes or so, once you’ve wrapped your mind around the basic ideas, not much more happens. Things perk up somewhat towards the end, with the three personalities starting to show up simultaneously, as they seem to battle for domination. Will Joven prove capable of retaining her innocence, or will she succumb to the dark desires of her other facets?

I must confess, I wasn’t particularly enthralled to find out. That’s probably a good thing, since the ending here is as inconclusive and ambivalent as everything which had preceded it. This would likely have made an amazing short film, with a very good idea at its core. Stretching the material out to feature length, however, leaves it perilously thin. It’s just not enough, with 80% or more feeling like empty padding.

Dir: Tamae Garateguy
Star: Mónica Lairana, Guadalupe Docampo, Luján Ariza, Edgardo Castro
a.k.a. Mujer Lobo