Month: April 2024

Nye: National Theatre Live

27/04/24

Cameo Cinema, Edinburgh

National Theatre Live has chosen a propitious subject for its hundredth project. 

Nye, written by Tim Price and directed by Rufus Norris, is the story of Aneurin ‘Nye’ Bevan, the Labour MP who conceived and delivered the National Health Service. I’m somewhat embarrassed to admit that beyond that one incredible achievement, I have no other knowledge of the man’s life, so this feels like the perfect time to find out more about him.

When we first encounter Nye (Michael Sheen), he’s a patient in one of the National Health hospitals he built. Accompanied by his ever-protective wife, Jennie (Sharon Small), and his best friend, Archie (Roger Evans), Nye has just undergone a routine operation for a stomach ulcer but it turns out there’s something much more serious causing the awful pains in his gut. Zonked out on drugs and hallucinating, his hospital bed takes on a magic carpet-like ability to whisk him back down the years to revisit key scenes in his life.

Vicki Mortimer’s ingenious set design is mostly achieved using curtains. They sweep from side to side, they descend from on high and sometimes they even rise magisterially from the floor, to alternatively create new spaces and reveal hidden depths within the Olivier’s expansive stage. Though Sheen remains dressed in his striped pyjamas throughout, there’s never any doubt as to where (and when) a particular memory is located. 

We see Nye in childhood, afflicted by a stutter and brutalised by a sadistic teacher, but uniting his classmates in a show of defiance. We see him and Archie as older children, discovering the wonders of a library where… unbelievably…books can be borrowed and read – for free! And we see an older Nye, a fledgling politician now, arguing with his sister, Arianwen (Kezrena James), over the care of their father, David (Rhodri Meiler), a former miner succumbing to a slow and horrible death from black lung.

Later, Nye crosses swords with a bombastic Winston Churchill (Tony Jayawardena), who is violently opposed to handing out free health care to the oiks. Then, under a new Labour government, he accepts an offer from Clement Attlee (Stephanie Jacob, silently gliding around the stage behind a desk like a Doctor Who villain) to become Minister for Health – and Housing.

If certain elements of Nye’s life have been simplified for dramatic purposes (his huge collection of siblings is whittled down to a single sister, for instance), it matters little. The central premise of this story is so huge that it can’t be overburdened with detail.

Sheen is terrific in the central role, giving Nye an understated and strangely vulnerable charm. Small is also marvellous as the firebrand, Jennie Lee – so good in fact that she should perhaps be given a little more to do, but that’s only a niggle. A sprightly rendition of Get Happy with Sheen singing and dancing his way around a busy hospital ward conveys Nye’s playful, engaging nature.

I love Jon Driscoll’s projection design, which utilises cinematic techniques. A key scene, depicting the death toll on the UK population after the end of the war, features hordes of monochromatic figures shambling helplessly towards the camera, only to morph into actual actors, appearing as if by magic, pleading for our help. Another sequence has Nye being scrutinised by the medical profession, scores of masked faces staring blankly at him across an abyss of prejudice. Who is this upstart who wants to change everything?

The play’s climax is almost unbearably poignant and I’m left sitting in the semi-darkness, tears in my eyes, marvelling at the sheer scale of one man’s glorious ambition. It seems particularly significant that. as I write this, a Tory government (which has spent so much time and effort trying to dismantle Aneurin Bevan’s wonderful achievement) looks set to be finally given its marching orders. Please let that happen!

Nye will doubtless be given other screenings soon, so keep an eye out for more opportunities if you missed it this time around. This is National Theatre Live at its most creative and enjoyable.

4.7 stars

Philip Caveney

When Mountains Meet

26/04/24

The Studio at Festival Theatre, Edinburgh

When Mountains Meet is a very personal piece of gig theatre, composed by musician Anne Wood, who stands centre stage throughout, playing her violin and seeming almost to conduct proceedings.

Directed by Kath Burlinson and Niloo-Far Khan, this is the nostalgic story of Wood’s first meeting with her father. Raised in the Highlands by her single Scottish mother, the twenty-something Anne (Iman Akhtar) is a bold and fearless woman, happily hopping on a plane to Pakistan to try to get to know the man whose DNA she has inherited – and to connect with a culture that is both alien and hers.

Told through a blend of music, spoken word, projection and audience interaction, the production is as complex and disorienting as Wood’s relationship with her dad. It’s a gentle, welcoming piece – there’s a pot of kahwa tea on our table and four little ladoo sweets – but it encompasses some thorny themes, including feminism, poverty and the devastating effects of Partition. Anne’s father (Jamie Zubairi) is a kind and courteous man – a doctor, well-respected by all for his selfless commitment to building hospitals and helping the poor – but he is also unwilling to publicly acknowledge Anne as his daughter, her illegitimacy and creative career both proving sticking points. She is ‘taboo’.

With its cabaret-style seating, the storytellers (Akhtar, Zubairi and Hassan Javed) occasionally wending their way through the tables, this is an inclusive piece, and we’re carried along by its deceptively light tone, smiling as we make paper aeroplanes and hold stones in our hands. Wood’s violin is accompanied by Rakae Jamil’s sitar, Mary Macmaster’s electric harp and Rick Wilson’s percussion, and the result is a seamless fusion of Scottish and Pakistani influences. It all adds up to something very life-affirming: about how big the world is and how small we are; about acceptance, endurance and love.

When Mountains Meet is on tour in Scotland until the end of May, so why not seize the chance to see it if it’s in your vicinity? It’s a foot-tapping, thought-provoking gem.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Challengers

21/04/24

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Challengers

I’m a huge tennis fan, but I’d be hard pushed to think of a non-documentary film that has ever come close to capturing the verve and excitement of the game. Until now. Luca Guadagnino’s Challengers manages to capture the gladiatorial nature of the sport and at the same time interweaves it with a stylish, sexy drama, which centres on three players and their complicated relationships. Guadagnino is a gifted filmmaker with both Call Me By Your Name and Bones and All as brilliant examples of the art. (I’ve just about forgiven him for his pretentious remake of Dario Argento’s Suspiria.)

The film opens midway through an intense tennis final between Art Donaldson (Mike Faist)  and Patrick Zweig (Josh O’Connor), who are playing under the baleful gaze of Art’s coach – and wife – Tashi Duncan (Zendaya). Art has been a top player but his star is waning; he’s still got the sponsorship deals earning him big money but he’s lost his mojo so, in a desperate attempt to rekindle his ambition, Tasha – who’s only ever really been motivated by her own thwarted obsession with tennis – persuades him to enter an open tournament, feeling that playing a series of lower seeds will be good for his confidence. Patrick is doing rather less well financially, living hand to mouth and at one point reduced to sleeping in his car – but he is playing to win.

From this point, the film flashes effortlessly back to thirteen years earlier, when the two young men, best friends since their first day at boarding school, encounter Tashi, the player everyone’s talking about. Both of them fall head over heels in lust with her and, in a playful scene in the men’s shared hotel room, Tashi announces that she will sleep with whoever wins the match when the two of them play tennis tomorrow…

It would be a crime to reveal much more about the plot from this point, but suffice to say that it takes some pretty labyrinthine twists and turns as it moves forwards and backwards in time, taking in everything that happens along the way.

There are strong performances from the three leads – nobody else gets much of a look-in – and while the story has some strong sexual content, it’s never allowed to feel prurient. It’s clear from the outset that Tasha is the main motivator in this three-way entanglement and she’s not about to be manipulated by anybody. 

Justin Kuritzke’s script is cleverly nuanced and sometimes wickedly funny, while Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross have created an atypical electronic score, one so propulsive that I find my feet tapping along to the urgent rhythms. For the most part it works brilliantly, though I do feel it’s occasionally overused. A special mention must go to the inventive cinematography of Sayombhu Mukdeeprom, particularly in the climactic stages of the final tennis match, which at one point has the camera careering madly back and forth across the court as though its been glued to a tennis ball.

Challengers is a grown up, slick and inventive feature, which is the work of a director at (ahem) the top of his game, set and match. 

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

Mitsos – Serial Griller

20/04/24

Brougham Street, Edinburgh

It was way back in November 2017 that we first stumbled upon Taxidi – a charming little Greek restaurant just around the corner from where we live – and were absolutely knocked out both by the standard of the food and the relaxed, friendly atmosphere. It became a regular favourite and somewhere we often recommended to Edinburgh visitors. So, in January of this year, we were somewhat dismayed to see that it appeared to be closing down.

We needn’t have worried. The premises were simply undergoing a transformation into Mitsos – Serial Griller, under the same ownership. We vow to visit as soon as possible, but the best laid plans often go awry, and it’s quite some time before we finally find the opportunity. As the name implies, the little restaurant is now home to a sizeable charcoal grill and, as we enter the familiar premises, we’re greeted by the appetising aroma of roasting meat – though I should add that, as before, there are still plenty of vegetarian options on the menu.

We start with some marinated anchovies. These are quite the revelation. Plump and zesty, infused with lemon, parsley and garlic, they are about a million miles away from the dried up, salty things that come in tins. We eat them (perhaps ‘devour’ would be a more appropriate word) with slices of char-grilled pitta bread, which are are quite a revelation themselves, hot, crispy and so downright moreish that we have to rein ourselves back a little in order to have some to accompany the dishes that follow.

Next to arrive is a grilled chicken breast – marinated in yoghurt and cooked over charcoal. It’s accompanied by mild red onion and a delicious mustard, the meat wonderfully tender and as moist as you could ask for. Then comes the undoubted star of the show, a whole grilled sea bream, perfectly cooked, the flesh quite literally falling off the bone and as light as a feather. This comes with a lemon and coriander dressing, which brings out the delicate flavour of the fish. There’s also a lovely beetroot salad, flecked with manouri cheese and flavoured with mint and garlic, and a side of hand–cut chips. Suffice to say that we make very short work of it all.

We’ve left room for a pudding (naturally), so we’re initially disappointed to find that Mitsos only offers a choice of two, but the disappointment is short-lived because both prove to be delicious. There’s that most traditional of Greek desserts, baklava, this one fabulously sweet and sticky – and there’s Greek yoghurt. I’ll confess that the latter doesn’t sound inspiring, but I soon discover that this version of the classic dish is a cut above – a mouthwatering confection that comprises ultra thick spoonfuls of set yoghurt, heaped with a succulent berry compote and liberally sprinkled with chopped nuts. Good? It’s all I can do not to lick the platter clean!

We leave feeling comfortably full and already planning our next visit. Αντίο, Taxidi. Long live the Serial Griller!

5 Stars

Philip Caveney

Abigail

20/04/24

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Twelve-year-old Abigail (Alisha Weir) is kidnapped one evening after her ballet class. Sedated, blindfolded and spirited away to an abandoned mansion, she’s held hostage by a ragtag bunch of mercenaries, intent on extorting $50 million from her gangster father (Matthew Goode). But when Daddy doesn’t care enough to cough up, what’s a tweenage girl to do? Sometimes you have to be a little bit naughty…

Although it treads a well-worn path, Abigail is more than just tropes and jump-scares. The script (by Stephen Shields and Guy Busick) is witty and spare, the exposition deftly integrated. Although the characters never stand a chance – their subsequent fall is inevitable – they are three-dimensional and interesting, their shifting dynamic always plausible.

The gang are not exactly innocent victims of their story. They’re all prepared to traumatise a child for nothing more than the mighty moolah. But directors Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett manage to engage our sympathy for the squad, allowing us the time and space to get to know them and understand their motivations.

Medic and former-addict Joey (Melissa Barrera) is the second lead, and we’re on her side from the outset. She’s aghast to learn that the victim is a child, and forms a bond with Abigail straight away. Ex-cop Frank (Dan Stevens) is harder to like: he feels neither shame nor remorse for the work he does; he’s pragmatic and cool. Rickles (William Catlett), Peter (Kevin Durand) and Dean (the late Angus Cloud, to whom the film is dedicated) are all hapless in their various ways, while rich-kid hacker Sammy (Kathryn Newton) is just in it for the lulz.

But the tiniest mite packs the mightiest sting, and it turns out that there’s much more to Abigail than meets the eye…

Weir is clearly having a whale of a time in this 18-certificate bloodfest: she more than holds her own with the adult actors. She’s the perfect embodiment of innocence and evil, and it’s great to see her refusing to be typecast. Although it’s an undeniably violent film, the action meets the demands of the story and never feels superfluous.

This grisly thriller is a gem, but be warned: the characters’ endings are often a little bit gory.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Chicken

18/04/24

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

It’s certainly a memorable entrance as Eva O’Connor struts and pecks her fretful way onto the stage of The Traverse, clad in an ingenious suit (designed by Bryony Rumble) that transforms her into the creature of the title. That said, she is no ordinary chicken. O’Connor plays Don Murphy, a proud Kerry cockerel and a ‘true son of Ireland.’ Hatched on a beach and full of ambition, he begins the long and eventful journey to stardom with dogged determination, working his way from appearing as Jesus in a local nativity play to the dizzy heights of Hollywood. I mean, come on, how many chickens do you know that have actually won a mother-clucking Oscar?

Chicken, co-written by O’Connor with Hildegard Ryan, is certainly like nothing I’ve ever seen before and O’Connor’s performance is a study in utter commitment as she circles the stage, staring intently into the audience, flapping her wings and flinging out chicken-related puns with absolute conviction. Don, it turns out, is also an inveterate name-dropper. He’s worked with all the biggest Irish film stars – Michael Fassbender, Colin O’Farrell, Brendan Gleeson – and he’s had some strange encounters along the way.

But things become more unsettled when he crosses paths with a daring avian performance artist who reminds him that not all chickens are as lucky as he – and that many of them are destined for the dinner plates of humanity.

For all O’Connor’s undoubted skills as a performer, Chicken is ultimately a little too one-note for comfort. Though exquisitely told and punctuated by a couple of spirited, strobe-lit dance sequences (courtesy of Marianne Nightingale), it doesn’t really have anywhere else to go. By the time Don tells us of his return to his roots in Derry – to star in a Martin McDonagh movie, no less – I’m starting to wish the piece would progress in some more fundamental way, other than pointing out the ultimate limitations of Don’s poultry form. But then, quite without warning it reaches its conclusion.

All respect to O’Connor who gives this 100%, but ultimately I am left wanting more. Happily, that doesn’t extend to calling in at Nando’s on the way home.

3 stars

Philip Caveney

Back to Black

18/04/24

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Advance reviews for Back to Black have been mostly underwhelming, writers mostly castigating the film for not finding anything that hasn’t already been covered in Asif Kapadia’s (admittedly brilliant) 2015 documentary, Amy. (https://bouquetsbrickbatsreviews.com/2015/07/04/amy/)

Those in the know have also muttered darkly that certain players in the story have been let off a little too lightly for comfort. While it’s certainly true that Sam Taylor-Johnson’s biopic resolutely refuses to apportion any blame for what happened to Amy Winehouse, it doesn’t detract from the fact that this film is both eminently watchable and genuinely, heart-breakingly tragic.

We first encounter Amy (Marisa Abela) as a teenager in Camden, already a talented performer, inspired by her beloved Nan, Cynthia (Lesley Manville), a jazz singer back in the day. She’s also encouraged by her taxi-driver dad, Mitch (Eddie Marsan), who isn’t shy of indulging in a bit of crooning himself. If Matt Greenhalgh’s screenplay features an overload of exposition in the opening scenes, it soon settles down enough to allow viewers to enjoy the ride.

A&R man Nick (Sam Buchanan) hears Amy’s demo tape and is keen to sign her up to the Simon Fuller agency, but she’s quick to point out to him that her idea of ‘girl power’ is Sarah Vaughan and that she ‘ain’t no fuckin’ Spice Girl.’ Success, it seems, must come on her terms or not at all. But of course, she rises like a meteor and, almost before you can say ‘Go Amy!,’ she has an album out, a residency at a local pub and a rapidly-growing legion of fans.

But Amy’s world is turned upside down when she encounters Blake (Jack O’ Connell), a Camden Jack-the-Lad with a nice line in deadpan patter and a coke habit that’s already getting him into trouble. Despite the fact that Amy hates drugs and Blake doesn’t care for booze, the two of them become lovers. What can possibly go wrong?

Of course, what happens after that is a steadily mounting disaster played out under the baleful glare of the paparazzi (who, I suspect, are the ones who should really shoulder some of the blame for what happened) and the result is much like watching a slow-motion car crash. I cannot look away. Abela is astonishing in the lead role, playing Amy with absolute conviction, alternately hard as nails and fragile as cut glass. She also supplies her own vocals. I’m no Winehouse aficionado, but to me it sounds spot on. O’Connell, an undervalued performer, is also terrific, encompassing Blake’s strengths and failings perfectly. The scene where Amy and Blake first meet is beautifully handled and it’s clear from the outset why they become so besotted with each other, so utterly incapable of extricating themselves from the ensuing carnage.

In the finest biopic tradition, there are recreations of famous performances, which once again capture the look and feel of the period, and it would be a hard-hearted soul indeed who doesn’t shed a tear in the scene where Amy performs a heartfelt rendition of Love is a Losing Game, after hearing that Blake has, once again, turned his back on her.

Of course, it’s always difficult to depict something so familiar and find new horizons within it, but I can’t help feeling that Taylor-Johnson has been unfairly maligned on this one. Back to Black offers us a compelling insight into Amy’s character, and it never flags. Abela is a revelation and, provided she can successfully avoid the spectre of typecasting, she really should have a bright future ahead of her.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

The Girls of Slender Means

17/04/24

Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh

Gabriel Quigley’s vivacious adaptation of Muriel Spark’s novel opens in the 1960s. Jane (Molly Vevers) is the editor of Elan magazine. Her bright young assistant, Bluebell (Molly McGrath), nervously pitches a feature, but Jane is distracted by news of a certain Nicholas Farringdon (Seamus Dillane)’s demise. Maybe she can write a piece about him? After all, she knew him, back in the day. And, just like that, she is hurtling down Memory Lane, back to 1945 and the months between VE Day and VJ Day, when she lived in the May of Teck…

The May of Teck is a pithily-straplined boarding house, “for the pecuniary convenience and social protection of ladies of slender means below the age of thirty years, who are obliged to reside apart from their families in order to follow an occupation in London.” The young occupants – who all work as secretaries – share everything: rations, deportment tips, clothes. One dress in particular, a Shiaparelli known affectionately as Scappers, is dear to all their hearts. They each get to wear it on special occasions; there’s a strict rota in place.

The first act is sprightly, frothy, almost determinedly light; the focus is on fashion and friendship, dancing and diets. Beautiful Selina (Julia Brown) carefully monitors her calorie-intake to ensure her hips don’t grow too wide to wriggle through the tiny bathroom window so that she can sunbathe on the roof. Live-wire Anne (Amy Kennedy) provides a caustic running commentary on everything and everyone, while angelic elocution teacher, Joanna (McGrath again), recites poetry and sews. Meanwhile, Pauline (Shannon Watson) never stops prattling about her love affair with famous actor Jack Buchanan, and our Scottish protagonist, Jane, forges fan mail to authors for her publisher boss, and dreams of being a poet herself one day. Her attempts to be taken seriously – her dowdy cardigan, her constant references to “brain work” – are undermined by her goofy awkwardness, wonderfully captured by Vevers.

There’s a tonal shift in the second act. As we get to know the girls better, we begin to see beneath the gilded surface. Their frivolity is revealed for what it is: a distraction from the horrors they have endured during the war. It shouldn’t come as a surprise; it’s been there all along in Jessica Worrall’s set design, the monochrome backdrop of bombed-out buildings a constant reminder that the girls’ colourful chatter belies a darker truth. But it shocks, providing an effective wake-up call. They are survivors. No wonder they cling so desperately to the fantasy Scappers provides.

Under Roxanna Silbert’s direction, the story has a clear contemporary resonance, and not just because we, like they, are living through the dying days of a Tory government, fearful of what might happen next. The production is impressive as a whole, but there are also some stand-out scenes, most notably the droll office sequence and the dance, where the girls’ boyfriends are represented by legless mannequins.

Spark’s lesson is clear. Don’t underestimate people because they seem shallow; you don’t know what’s concealed within their depths.

4.3 stars

Susan Singfield

Civil War

14/04/24

Cineworld, Edinburgh

With the situation in the Middle East rapidly approaching flashpoint, it seems a particularly propitious time for Alex Garland’s Civil War to open at UK cinemas. If it was devised as a kind of warning for the near future, then it now seems doubly unnerving. Set in an unspecified year, the film opens with the president of the United States (a suitably Trumpian Nick Offerman) rehearsing a speech telling his followers that all is well and that the seditionary forces opposing him will soon be vanquished. But in reality, the civil war which that has been raging for some time is now approaching its inevitable conclusion as the aforementioned insurrectionists converge on Washington DC. And they haven’t come to shake the president’s hand.

Renowned photojournalist Lee Smith (Kirsten Dunst) and her colleague Joel (Wagner Moura) are both determined to be at the capital in time to witness what happens, and – more importantly – to capture it on film. But getting there will involve a long and hazardous trip across the war-torn country. The night before they leave they pick up a couple of fellow travellers: veteran newshound Sammy (Stephen McKinley Henderson), more cautious than the other two, but still determined to be in at the kill – and young novice Jessie (Cailee Spaeny), who actually idolises Lee and wants to – quite literally – follow in her footsteps…

Civil War has been criticised by some for failing to pin down exactly who is attacking whom in the various conflicts the foursome encounter – but I think that’s entirely the point. Garland (who also wrote the screenplay) wants to show the confusion of warfare, the fact that all kinds of people are pitching into this carnage with manifestos of their own. Against this chaotic background, Garland is much more interested in the photojournalists themselves, the callousness they must possess in order to observe atrocities without ever pitching in to help, the utter determination that propels them to risk their own lives in order to get that one all-important image and document history as it unfolds.

The background in which these scenarios play out is convincingly portrayed. This is production company A24’s most expensive project yet and it shows, the final conflict in the capital rendered with absolute veracity. There’s a powerful sense of unease that builds steadily throughout the film and I’ve rarely seen urban warfare depicted with such unflinching realism and attention to detail. Watch out for a powerful cameo from Jesse Plemons as a merciless soldier in a particularly dread-charged sequence and marvel too at the clever device that repeatedly halts cinematographer Rob Hardy’s adrenaline-charged action sequences to pick out one black and white image.

I’ve occasionally had issues with some of Garland’s endings (Men in particular, where he seemed to be pounding home his final message with a sledgehammer) but this keeps me gripped right to the final frame. Civil War’s conclusion may be too cynical for some, but I feel it’s absolutely spot on. Furthermore, I’d go so far as to suggest that this might be Alex Garland’s most fully-realised film so far.

But be warned. You’ll most likely leave the cinema feeling pretty grim about the future.

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

Seize Them!

10/04/24

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Britain in the Dark Ages is a perilous place for a ruler, as Queen Dagan (Aimee Lou Wood) finds to her cost. A petulant, privileged brat who has never encountered hardship, she’s currently presiding over a realm that’s in imminent danger of collapse, due to the presence of too many revolting peasants. They are currently being stirred into insurrection by the duplicitous Humble Joan (Nicola Coughlan), supposedly down with the common people, but always with one eye on the throne, even when she’s preaching equality.

Dagan’s approach is to carry on regardless, relying on her acolyte Leofwine (Jessica Hynes) for guidance. But she’s the kind of assistant who will switch sides at the drop of a crown, which she promptly does – and Dagan has no option but to flee for her life, accompanied only by faithful servant, Shulmay (Lolly Adefope). Trekking across a remote landscape, they encounter humble shit-spader, Bobik (Nick Frost), a likeable fellow who is clearly as thick as the product he works with, but the three of them team up in a bid to help Dagan to reach some potential allies in the Northlands…

Seize Them! is written by Andy Riley, who has contributed to the Horrible Histories series, and his heritage shows in a string of silly gags in which poos, farts and slapstick figure prominently. But as the story unfolds, I can’t help wondering who this film is actually for. The presence of ‘adult’ swear words and some unexpectedly grisly injury details have earned it a 15 certificate, but no self-respecting fifteen-year-old is going to be content with the childish fare on offer here and I have to confess I’m with them.

While there’s a whole battalion of comic talent doing their best with the poor material they’ve been given, they have precious little to work with. After the disappointment of Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire, it’s once again a shame to see James Acaster fobbed off with generic lines that offer him no room to show what he can actually do – and it’s almost painful to witness Jessica Hynes delivering lines that she could doubtless improve on in her sleep.

Director Curtis Vowell is hampered by a shoestring budget and the result is lacklustre to say the very least. The only scene that does manage to make me laugh – Bobik amiably listing the different kinds of shit he’s worked with – is hardly comedy gold.

This may manage to scare up an audience when it goes to streaming but, as a cinematic experience, it leaves much to be desired.

2.8 stars

Philip Caveney