a shallow, cynical, nakedly exploitative grab at the theoretical incel terror campaigns that were promised in the wake of Todd Philips' Joker to leave the streets running red with blood.... WOMEN'S BLOOD. aggressively unfun and terminally affected by the surface molecules of the culture war, Cuck is the cinematic equivalent of watching a freshmen vomit in a parked car at 2 am.
Larry Fessenden proverbially tea-bags the Dark Universe with this carefully crafted cadaver that modernizes the Modern Prometheus while remaining true to its horrific purity.
it's been 30 years since i first laid eyes on a cryptic video store shelf warmer that i no doubt stared at long enough for its no-faced killer to lodge itself in my budding Id, but i've finally absorbed the contents behind the mask. plays like a less brutal but more atmospheric follow-up to the seminal Spanish slasher PIECES.
an absolute must-watch for admirers of the more elevated strand of serial killer film (Angst, Schramm, I Stand Alone, Henry)
like Yorgos Lanthimos and Jim Hosking collaborating on a Lifetime Movie.
a deceptively sly deconstruction of Japan's mock-snuff AV genre that ends being even more vicious and cruel than the films it is skewering to wadded chopped meat.
the shared trauma secret handshake of my generation makes its way to DVD/Blu-Ray and streaming thanks to the celluloid carnage curators at Severin Films .
thin on narrative but bursting at the seams in the areas of atmosphere, pathos, and intimacy, the underseen debut feature of Proyas (the Crow, Dark City) plays like a living Dave McKean art piece. part dead world travelogue, part outsider art installation, part socially isolated fever dream.
like the aformentioned Cuck, this too is a transparent bid to run the zeitgeist through. unlike Cuck, this is written and directed by the surrealistic cinema satirist of scummy suburbia Richard Bates Jr. while not as accomplished, imaginative, or interesting as his Excision or Trash Fire, there are still enough moments of expertly framed grisly excess to recommend at least one viewing.
no one puts the "trash" in "trash odyssey" (or the "odyssey" in "trash odyssey" for that matter) quite like Barry J Gillis, who ups the ante of his immortal THINGS by turning his crooked vision toward human monsters.
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