Tag: vigilante

The Vigilante

  By

★★★
“The Noise of Freedom”

Not to be confused with A Vigilante, this is rather more downmarket and straightforward. It’s likely less thought-provoking, yet probably works a bit better as entertainment, albeit being so basic as to border on the simplistic. Marine Jessica (Jandreau) comes back from a tour of duty in the Middle East with PTSD, following an encounter with a kid wearing a suicide vest. Almost immediately on her arrival, however, her 13-year-old sister, Aimee (Timmons) is kidnapped by sex-trafficker Frank (Cesario), who plans to sell her off in the vilest of ways. It’s a race against time for Jessica and her army buddy and tech wizard Dan (Pierce) to track down those responsible before… [/gestures vaguely] y’know…

If this feels like it has a certain similarity to an unexpected hit in cinemas this summer, you’re probably right. In the movie’s defense, this has been in the pipeline for five years or more, so it can’t be called a quick cash-in – though The Sound of Freedom goes back even longer. Interestingly, director Whittaker worked on Freedom as a stunt co-ordinator, part of a career in that field which goes back to the early nineties. He brings that experience to The Vigilante and it shows, with the action probably the film’s best element. There are a couple of undeniably impressive fights for Jandreau, in particular the final one after she has located the house in which Aimee is being held by her kidnappers.

The other elements are a bit more variable. It begins with an earnest recitation of facts about sex trafficking, with voice-over from (real?) victims detailing where and at what age they were ensnared. But the concept of Frank literally ploughing into the car in which Aimee is a passenger, in order to kidnap her to order out of the wreckage, is hugely, almost ludicrously, implausible. The reality of sex-trafficking is considerably less dramatic: like murder, it’s far more likely the perpetrator is someone known to the victim, rather than a complete stranger. Some of the other elements also don’t feel like they ring true, and the sheer number of shots of underage girls in white underwear had me expecting Chris Hansen to pop out of my closet.

Another weak spot if quite what Dan is doing to locate the trafficking houses which Jessica and he then hit. It’s only vaguely explained, in tech-speak of the least convincing kind. However, there are times where the film does still hit the mark, such as the line said by one of the girls with almost chilling off-handedness: “The first time is the worst. Then you simply go numb.” You sense any creepiness is entirely deliberate, although it is undeniably playing up the more sensational aspects for the viewer. Nothing new there, of course. In many ways, The Vigilante is simply a spiritual successor to the white slavery movies which date back well over a century to the silent era, and titles like Traffic in Souls. As such, this is no better or worse; it succeeds well enough, despite low ambitions.

Dir: Lee Whittaker
Star: Jet Jandreau, Eric Pierce, Jamie M. Timmons, Julien Cesario
a.k.a. Aimee

The Moderator

  By

★½
“Falls far, far short of reaching moderate”

Oh, dear. Where to start? Let’s get the positives out of the way. This looks reasonable enough, and clearly was not a poverty-row production. The central idea isn’t bad either: while a vigilante killer taking out misogynistic online sexists is a fairly ludicrous concept, if you squint a bit, you can see how it could have become an acerbic comment on the toxicity of social media. And that’s all I’ve got. For any potential is ruthlessly exterminated by staggeringly feeble execution. We’re there inside two minutes, when an unnamed Russian supermodel wakes, to get a video message from two pals vacationing in Morocco, then turns on the TV immediately to see a news report about them being executed by ISIS, with the video online for all to see. Wait, what?

Ms. Supermodel then visits a shadowy character who gives her a small rucksack telling her it contains everything she needs, including her new identity as “Mya Snik”. This is only the second-dumbest name, because later on we hear of somebody called, I kid you not, Dr. Akula. No, really. The rucksack also contains a scorpion, for no reason ever made clear. Mya then heads off on a somewhat ruthless pursuit of random Internet trolls, leading up to serial rapist and shitty white rapper, Vance Wilhorn (Lane), who is in Morocco too, abusing any young woman stupid enough to hang out with him. And we are talking very, very stupid, as shown by this stunningly terrible piece of dialogue:
    “Do you want to get raped or what?”
    “Oh, come on – don’t start that again…”

Once more, this might all have been tolerable, had it focused on Mya giving scummy perverts their comeuppance. Instead, there are meandering subplots about the Interpol pursuit of her, led by agent Bourdeau (Dourdan), and local cop Selma (Azzabi). The latter lets Mya go after capturing her, because her prisoner recites crime statistics at her, apparently boring the policewoman into hypnotic compliance or something. We hardly ever see Mya even lightly kick significant butt, and her talents evaporate entirely at points. One minute, she’s efficiently taking down security personnel in a resort (albeit to no real purpose). The next, she can’t beat a fat Moroccan tour-guide, who can barely waddle away. I’m not impressed.

There are few things worse than a film which clearly wants to make an earnest point (as evidenced by the quoting of statistics), yet is incapable of doing anything except repeatedly shooting itself in the foot. We’re given no reason to root for or care about the heroine, or anybody else in the picture for that matter. The action is largely feeble, though I did have to laugh at the Interpol agents chasing on foot after Mya’s motor-cycle, which then conveniently falls over. And if you want to see attractive Moroccan scenery, you’d be better off with a Tourist Board promo video. Definitely a candidate for worst movie of the year.

Dir: Zhor Fassi-Fihri
Star: Irma Lake, Michael Patrick Lane, Gary Dourdan, Soraya Azzabi

My Sisters

  By

★
“Sisters that’ll have you crying for mercy.”

This felt oddly familiar, like I had watched it before. One scene in particular – a maintenance man comes to replace a light-bulb, only to become an apparent threat – had me certain I had seen this. But no review of it existed, either here or Film Blitx, my non-GWG site. [For, make no mistake, its credentials here are fringey at best.] My working theory is that I probably fell asleep and missed so much, I deemed it impossible to review, then forgot about it entirely. Yet here we are. I managed to stay awake for an adequate amount of time this viewing, though full disclosure: I did have to pause it about 15 minutes in. I’m still reviewing it  – mostly so I don’t go round the loop a third time.

The hook here is that the whole thing was filmed in 24 hours, something touted by, it feels, every member of the cast and crew during the end credits. On the one hand, it is quite an impressive achievement, considering even the quickest of quota quickies would still need several days [Though 24 hours would be an eternity for Rendez-vous, shot using one take, the first, and thus filmed in under two hours] To the movie’s credit, technically it looks pretty good. The audio is a little ropey in places, however. My question would be: why film it in one day? What did this add to the film? For it seems no more than a pointless gimmick.

Not least because it feels as if the script was also tossed together in a day, easily representing the movie’s weakest element, and bouncing back and forth in time like a meth-crazed ping-pong ball. I’m unsure whether the tedium it induces is a result of its lack of coherence, or if it would have been just as dull with a more conventional narrative. The basic idea is a women’s support group, who decided to become vigilantes, helping their “sisters” who are trapped in abusive relationships by targetting their abusers. [It’s odd that I watched this the same day as the similarly themed Ride or Die. At least that admitted to the psychosis in its vigilante.]

This leads them into conflict with a shadowy men’s support group, the Freemen Society, who don’t take kindly to the women’s actions. The film does a particularly poor job of defining its antagonists, who remain a nebulous threat for the bulk of the running time, and are bad because we are told they are. Yet we discover at the end that one of the women has been an unreliable narrator all along, lying even to the rest of the support group. We are given no particular reason to care about them: there is far too much talk, and the dialogue consists of little more than a series of buzzwords that, presumably, made more sense back in 2020, during the white heat of people giving a damn about #MeToo. That concept has aged like Amber Heard’s milk, and combined with mediocre execution and flat-out terrible writing, these are sisters who need to be doing it to themselves.

Dir: Adam Justice Hardy
Star: Sara Young Chandler, Shanera Richardson, Nadia Marina, Diana Sanchez

The Huntress of Auschwitz

  By

★★
“About three decades too late.”

I came into this somewhat braced, given its 3.0 IMDb rating, and reviews which tended to be scathing e.g. proclaiming “This May Be The WORST Movie I’ve Ever Seen!” While it’s clearly not great, this is not eye-wateringly terrible. The good news is, it’s probably one performance away from approaching decent. The bad news is, it’s the lead role which is the biggest problem. This belongs to the unnamed Huntress (Watts-Joyce), a supposed American who travels to England, to go after a Nazi war criminal,  Rudolf Tannhäuser (Richards), and deliver the justice he has escaped since World War II. Tannhauser is now living quietly under an assumed identity n a farm in the English countryside.

There’s your first problem. This is clearly contemporary i.e. up-to-date iPhones, meaning Tannhauser would now need to be well into his nineties, even if he had been a 16-year-old when the war ended. He’s painted as considerably more senior, and there’s no conceivable way that Richards is pushing a century. Another issue: there really is precious little hunting, and nothing like the cover. She simply shows up on his doorstep, faking a turned ankle, and drugs him. Then we get a great deal of chit-chat as she tries to convince him to come clean about his past, and he repeatedly says she has the wrong guy. If Watts-Joyce did not have the emotional range of a fence-post, these conversations might have generated some tension.

They stand in sharp contrast to the delivery by veteran actress Lenska, playing concentration-camp survivor Amelia Kaminska. [Lenska was born in 1947, so is at least plausible as a child of Auschwitz] Her simple retelling of the horrors which she witnessed and went through are, far and away, the best part of the movie, and proof of how it’s not necessary to show things, when the delivery of the description is good enough. The film would have been far better a) set in the nineties, and b) with Amelia being the person to go after Tannhauser. The fact he killed one of the Huntress’s great-grandparents feels too distant and impersonal – again, compounded by the lead actress’s inability to sell the necessary emotions.

The pacing has some problems too: particularly in the beginning, there are too many scenes which end up being totally irrelevant. Her meeting with some kind of handler, or the travel montage, culminating in the Huntress standing around for what feels like forever, chatting to a pal on the phone. Once we reach the meat of the matter, with Tannhauser tied up, things improve a bit. The problem is, we’re already over half an hour in, and the film has really offered very little reason to engage with it. Thereafter, you’re waiting for the revenge that you know is inevitably going to come (though I wonder: how easy is it to gas someone to death in the middle of an open field?). It probably needs to be either exploitative or thoughtful: it’s neither, and consequently is unlikely to satisfy anyone.

Dir: Richard John Taylor
Star: Lowri Watts-Joyce, Jeffrey Charles Richards, Rula Lenska, Paul Dewdney

Catch the Fair One

  By

★★★
“Down for the count.”

Quite often, in films featuring women who are supposed to be boxers, they simply do not look the part. Safe to say, this is not an issue here. That is apparent from the opening scene, in which Kaylee (Reis) is preparing for a fight. As she warms up with her trainer, the speed and power of her punches is clear, and not cinematic trickery. It’s unsurprising, since Reis is, at time of writing. the current WBA, WBO and IBO light-welterweight world champion. It’s just a shame this movie chooses not to make more use of her undoubted talents in the combat field, and is a tad too earnest to be value as entertainment.

Kaylee falls into a downward spiral after her sister Weeta (Borrero) vanishes, and is barely scraping by, but then receives information that Weeta was abducted by a sex trafficking ring. With the authorities unwilling to do anything – the number of indigenous women who suffer this fate, or are flat-out murdered is startling – it’s up to Kaylee. She infiltrates the ring run by Bobby (Henshall), only to find it’s a lot harder to get out than in, and that he isn’t necessarily the man in charge. If I may trot out a tired boxing cliche, she’s in for the fight of her life, as she seeks the truth about what happened to her sister, and whether Weeta is alive or dead.

Reis is the best thing this has going for it, and the makers know it. There’s a raw intensity which is utterly convincing, as she throws herself into a terrible situation in pursuit of Weeta. Though you do have to wonder why she apparently waited so long before trying to track down her supposedly beloved sibling, leaving the trail close to stone-cold. I mentioned “value as entertainment” above, and that should probably be stressed. This isn’t a Taken-style popcorn audience pleaser. It’s more of a descent into hell, which will leave neither Kaylee nor those with whom she crosses paths unscathed, to put it mildly. The heroine was already badly damaged going in: she sleeps with a razor-blade tucked in her mouth for defense purposes, a note that goes nowhere except as a character trait.

Much the same is true of her boxing talents, which never particularly come to the forefront, leaving me wondering why they made them part of the film. I did have to admire its relentlessly grim tone: there’s hardly a moment of light here, until the very end of the movie. Even then, the carpet of comfort is brutally yanked out from underneath the feet of the viewer with the final shot before the credits roll. I’m not sure if Reis has any future as an actress – or even whether she has an interest in such. However, if this proves to be the beginning and end of her career on-screen, it will still be better than many more accomplished actresses manage.

Dir: Josef Kubota Wladyka
Star: Kali Reis, Daniel Henshall, Kevin Dunn, Mainaku Borrero

Fountaine and the Vengeful Nun Who Wouldn’t Die

  By

★★
“Jack of all trades, master of nun…”

You will probably understand why the title more or less rocketed to the top of my watch-list, especially when accompanied by the poster (right). Naturally, it was almost inevitable that it could not possibly live up to either: the question was mostly, how far short it would fall. The answer is, “a fair bit, yet not irredeemably so,” even if the first half if considerably duller than I wanted. Indeed, it’s also rather confusing, in terms of what’s going on. As well as I can piece things together, Mary (Stern) is a nun who gets sent to an asylum after losing her sister, though it turns out to be less a mental-care facility than you’d expect.

There, she meets and falls for another nun, Lee (Tripp), and the pair escape. Mary eventually falls in with a vigilante group, intent on taking down the criminal empire of Fountaine, while Lee is abducted by the same group. With the help of trusty sidekick Sam (Clower), who was also Lee’s adopted brother, Mary acquires the set of special skills necessary, in addition to a fetching zebra-striped eye-patch and a very pointy Samurai sword This leads to storming Fountaine’s headquarters, in order to rescue her love. I think that hits most of the main points, though I accept no responsibility if I’m wrong. To be honest though, this is not really plot-oriented, being a collage of elements from exploitation cinema over the last fifty years.

The most obvious influence is probably Kill Bill, which was itself a patchwork assembly, so we’ve got to the point where exploitation cinema truly is eating itself. The other angle is clearly the nunsploitation genre of sinful sisters, though it has to be said, this is remarkably chaste in comparison. I think there is only one pair of breasts and zero full nudity in the whole thing, a tally at which Jess Franco would laugh patronisingly. It isn’t even close to being the first “retro grindhouse” entry that harks back to the style, trailing a decade behind both Nude Nuns With Big Guns and the recently reviewed Sister Wrath (a.k.a. Nun of That), the latter in particular doing a better job at being more than a third-gen photocopy of the genre.

Instead, it concentrates on the violence, though to mixed results. When it concentrates on practical effects, it’s not bad and occasionally reaches impressive. However, bad CGI is something you would never have seen in the seventies, and its presence here is equally unwelcome and unsatisfactory. The other problem is the lead actress falling short of the charismatic heroines in the films which inspired this. Pam Grier. Tura Satana. Dyanne Thorne. Meiko Kaji. Christina Lindberg. Stern will not be joining them in the pantheon of greats any time soon. And good retro grindhouse is capable of being entertaining, even if you have no knowledge of the genre’s history. I’m rather less than certain that’s the case here.

Dir: James Dean
Star: Mallory Stern, Ron Clower, Jaclyn Tripp, Zera Lynd

Sister Wrath

  By

★★★½
“Nun-conformist”

I think it’s safe to say you’ll probably be able to decide within a few minutes, whether or not this is your cup of tea. The opening scene is set in a strip-club where the next act on the main stage is dressed as a nun. After a couple of minutes, she pulls out an unfeasibly large weapon from under her clerical garb, and guns down the mobsters present, in gory fashion. Thereafter, you can expect more of the same, along with extremely savage jabs at organized religion. Catholicism is the main target, but Judaism and Hinduism get their share of jabs: for example, Gandhi is a martial arts teacher. Or there’s a Yiddish hitman, Viper Goldstein (Lavallee), who practices the art of “Jew Jitsu”. If you just roll your eyes at that, this is likely not for you. However, if you roll your eyes and also laugh, then you, like me, may be the intended target audience.

The heroine is Kelly (Nicklin) an aspiring nun with a bad temper, who ends up enrolled, not entirely willingly, in the Order of the Black Habit – though surely Order of the Bad Habit would have been an even better name? Whatever… They are a group of fighting nuns, each named after one of the seven deadly sins. Unsurprisingly, Kelly becomes Sister Wrath, and joins her colleagues, such as Sister Pride (Cipolla), in taking down the criminal empire of Momma Rizzo (Tretheway, shamelessly channeling Shelley Winters in Bloody Mama). Momma isn’t going to sit back and let that happen, however. After her own goons prove not up to the task of taking on the Black Habit, she brings in Goldstein and his Ninja Throwing Stars of David, to escalate the war. With the help of a mole inside the church, he kidnaps Sister Pride, in order to lure Wrath and the rest of the nuns into a trap.

There’s a lot of glorious invention here, not least the remarkably catchy musical number in heaven, which rivals the one at the end of Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life. [In one of the film’s rare subtle moments, the same actor is here playing both Jesus Christ and the Devil] It’s gory and foul-mouthed, though for whatever reason, remains remarkably chaste: the stripper in the opening scene is wearing pasties. Likely only a lack of the necessary gratuitous nudity prevented this from getting a seal of approval, because the rest of it is right in my wheel-house of poor taste. Cameos from Debbie Rochon and Lloyd Kaufman – again, if you don’t know who they are… – only add to the sense of fun. The latter plays the Pope, who shows up late to absolve everyone of their sins. If not quite reaching the dizzy heights of post-grindhouse classics like Hobo With a Shotgun, it’s one of the rare cases where a B-movie genuinely lives up to the promise of its poster.

Dir: Richard Griffin
Star: Sarah Nicklin, Alexandra Cipolla, Rich Tretheway, David Lavallee Jr.
a.k.a. Nun of That

Go For Broke

  By

★★½
“The Seven Schoolgirl Samurai”

I have so many questions about the Japanese education system after watching this. It takes place in a high school whose student council is repeatedly being squeezed for extortion money by the Yagyu, a local biker gang. They ride up to the place, beating up and terrorizing the students, and generally making a nuisance of themselves. Where, exactly, is the principal when all this is going on? Teachers? Concerned parents? There is a throwaway line about how reporting things to the police would only make the gang attack harder. But you’d think some adult might notice and want to get involved? Mind you, outside of their chosen mode of transport, the gang themselves are largely indistinguishable from pupils, except for perhaps having slightly longer hair. Apparently in Japan, collar-length hair is like wearing a jacket with a Hell’s Angels patch.

Fed up with all this, the council hire a yojimbo or bodyguard – explicitly referencing The Seven Samurai as they do so. To the council president’s surprise, this is Saeka Agawa (Usami), a bit of a delinquent herself. She recruits a number of her female friends, including a joshi pro wrestler and a stunt-woman. Under the guise of a “music club,” they train the pupils in the fine art of school self-defense, and successfully repel the Yagyu. However, the gang don’t take defeat easily, and this is where things get complicated, because it turns out that Saeka has previous history with Leopard (Ninagawa), the woman who runs them. They retaliate with a kidnapping, demanding both money and that Saeka stay out of their business, pushing the council’s resolve close to breaking point. However, Saeka insists they stay the course, setting the stage for a final battle, as both sides marshal all their resources into a winner-takes-all conflict. I should mention this includes the pupils driving around campus in a van converted to use both artillery and a flamethrower. Once again, where are the adults?

Sadly, it’s not nearly as much fun as the above scenario may sound. It’s the kind of thing which echoes the classic pinky violence scenarios. Yet despite what the poster may suggest, instead of being uncompromisingly for mature viewers, there’s hardly anything in here which would push it above a PG rating. That’s when you can see anything at all, with Nakamura being far too fond of backlighting and smoke for the film’s good, though he does manage a number of stylish shots. Also of note, both the dialogue and a canonically eighties pop song on the soundtrack echo the poster by saying “Go for break”, which annoyed me much more than it realistically should. At north of 105 minutes, it definitely drags at point, and few of the “samurai” beyond Saeka are given even the slightest bit of development. It’s the kind of film I’d love to see remade by someone like Takashi Miike or Sion Sono, who could bring out the undeniable potential, which this version mostly leaves on the table.

Dir: Genji Nakamura
Star: Yukari Usami, Kozue Saito, Yuki Ninagawa, Rikako Murakami
a.k.a. V Madonna: War

Take Back the Night

  By

★★★
“A girl walks home at night…”

This is not exactly subtle in terms of its messaging, or the underling metaphor. But to be honest, I kinda respect that. I’d probably rather know what I’m in for, from the get-go, rather than experiencing a film which thinks it’s going to be “clever”, and pull a bait and switch. Here, even the title makes it obvious enough. The ‘monster’ here is sexual violence, and should you somehow make it through the film oblivious to that, you’ll get a set of crisis helplines before the end-credits role. However, it manages to do its job without becoming misanthropic, largely by having very few male speaking characters, and is adequately entertaining on its own merits, not letting the movie drown in the message.

Up-and-coming artist Jane Doe (Fitzpatrick) is savagely attacked one night outside the warehouse where she’s having her show. Though she reports it to the police, the investigating detective (Lafleur) comes increasingly to the conclusion that Jane is making up the story. This is partly because of her history of petty crime, substance abuse and hereditary mental illness; partly because what Jane describes, rather than a conventional attacker, is a monstrous, smoky and fly-blown apparition. Nor is Jane’s sister (Gulner) exactly supportive, even after the creature returns, looking to finish what it started. Jane discovers an underground network of survivors, and lore stating that only a bronze dagger, forged by a hunter, can hurt it. Fortunately, as an artist, she has a very particular set of skills…

The makers have made some interesting, and rather brave choices. Jane is the only character with a name, and she’s not exactly relatable in a conventional sense. I found it easy to dislike her influencer ways – she seems happiest when telling her sister of an upcoming TV interview about her ordeal – or the random sex she has minutes before the attack. One element of the message is very much that none of this makes Jane ‘deserve’ what happens to her, though the film ignores the counter-argument that when our actions have negative consequences, we can’t deny entirely our own responsibility. You go swimming with sharks, you might end up losing a limb.

There are points which do require the audience to stretch their disbelief more than the grounded tone of this should need. I’d also have liked to hear more about the network. Indeed, the film feels like it finishes just when it should be starting. An entity more interested in entertainment might have compressed what we get here into the front thirty minutes, and developed the notion of a crypto-cult of female vigilante warriors battling these creatures, with their bronze daggers from the shadows. That would, however, likely have diluted the message here and, make no mistake, that is what matters most to the film-makers. Regular readers will be well aware of my problems with cinematic soapboxes. While this does not avoid the resulting pitfalls entirely, nor is it a complete failure like some I’ve endured, and is certainly watchable. 

Dir: Gia Elliot
Star: Emma Fitzpatrick, Angela Gulner, Jennifer Lafleur, Sibongile Mlambo

Spoor

  By

★★★
“Call of the wild”

Janina Duszejko (Mandat) is a former engineer, who now lives in a small rural Polish town. She has a deep love of nature and animals. This is a belief not shared by many of the local population, who treat animals as a resource, put there for their benefit – an attitude which brings them into conflict with Duszejko. After her two dogs disappear, she goes to the authorities, but they blow her off. However, the man she suspects most, turns up dead – just the first in a series of mysterious deaths, that may be related to Jaroslav Wnetzak, a local businessman with a finger in a number of shady pies. Subsequent corpses include the police chief, who owes Wnetzak money.

With the help of Dyzio (Gierszal), an IT consultant working for the police, Duszejko is able to investigate things. She also begins a romantic relationship with visiting Czech entomologist Boros Schneider (Krobot), after he discovers Wnetzak’s body in the forest, months after the businessman had disappeared. Things come to a head when Duszejko is arrested following the death of the mayor, having been the last to have seen him alive. But what exactly is going on? Is this those shady business dealings gone wrong? Or are the animals taking revenge on those who have hunted them? While I can’t say much more, you can probably get some kind of hint to the situation, simply from the fact that it’s being reviewed here. And perhaps the poster.

Holland is a veteran director, with over 40 years of features in her native Poland, plus episodes of US shows including The Wire, The Killing and House of Cards. You can tell, since this is confident and assured, as well as providing some truly beautiful and atmospheric shots of the countryside, imbuing it with a mystical quality. Animals loom out of the mist, almost like prehistoric creatures [hey, wild boar were driven extinct in Britain during the 1600’s], and the humans may not be that much more evolved. The lines are deliberately blurred at a couple of points, such as in Wnetzak’s brothel, where the women are dressed as cats, bunnies, etc. or at a costume ball which Duszejko attends as the big, bad wolf.

She makes an interesting character: clearly smart, yet her fierce devotion is certainly a weakness, and perhaps her undoing, especially when the police, etc. blow her concerns off.  However, at 128 minutes, there feels too much slack. The subplot involving the entomologist in particular, seems to bring things lurching to a halt in the middle, just when the mysterious deaths ramp up, and should begin driving things forward. I’d have moved this element towards the beginning, part of establishing Duszejko’s character. It doesn’t serve any essential part in the main plot, requiring it to be in the position where it takes place. However, the majority of the film still works, and represents a thought-provoking and well-crafted entity for the majority of its length, that does a decent job of mixing in its message.

Dir: Agnieszka Holland
Star: Agnieszka Mandat, Patricia Volny, Jakub Gierszał, Miroslav Krobot