not since Jack Ketchum's the Girl Next Door have i wanted a matriarch to die this horribly. what loathsome backward-ass fucks. blood-curdling revengerection cinema with attitude and aesthetics that should have been utilized for the updates to Last House on the Left and I Spit on Your Grave.
the best kind of splatter films are the ones that don't seem to realize how fucking disgusting they are, either in ideas or actions. at any moment this could have veered into slapstick, but it just continues to grow more confrontationally misanthropic and singularly hopeless. fantastic performances, bewitching visuals, even the cameos don't come off as tacky as they would anywhere else.
if you're a emotionally dyslexic social leper who has recently discovered your undeserved sense of transcendental relevance has been no more than a tumorous delusion; this documentary will make you feel better about yourself.
