STORY:
Jennifer (Gabrielle Stone), a smelly train-hopping fug-bug, arrives in Chestnut Hill to start a family with any man who’ll have her. Classy! Her prize pig victim emerges in the form of Greg (Dan McGlaughlin), a bar owner. Trouble is, he’s already got a girlfriend…
Fasten yer seatbelts bitches because here we fucking go again… The director doesn’t have anything to say with this movie. It’s completely empty of style, mood. Almost as if they are just going through the motions. There’s no spark. There’s nothing to take away from it. And the cast are practically lifeless. So lifeless, in fact, that when Greg’s mother, Edna appears it’s like someone popped a sandwich bag in study class. Samantha’s performance as Sarah manages to warm up. I’d compare it to those bland Christmas TV movies you might find playing on Channel 5 at half past 2 in the afternoon, but even they have a certain feel to them – cheesy as they may be. With this, I felt nothing. I gained nothing.
What certainly defies plausibility is the lead character’s ability to snake her way into these people’s lives. She’s a greasy, desperate, not to mention plain thing with shabby, ill-fitting clothes that only adoptive parents would feel an obligation to go anywhere near. Whereas the typical stranger would have nothing to do with her, let alone bed her. In other words, she wants to introduce herself to some Pantene before she tries to steal another girl’s boyfriend. Showers are for washing, love, not just for Psychos (1960).
Far be it from me to champion violence for the sake of violence (crosses fingers behind back), in the case of this movie, it’s not interesting enough to have practically all of its violence happen off-screen. And the reveals that something terrible has just occurred go far beyond subtle, they almost seem lazy. The action we do see is minimal at best. The kind of crap you’d expect from an extremely amateur theatre production.
As the film slugs its way forward, normally I would say that it descends, but it’s too dull a film – it just deteriorates into complete nonsense. And they never learn what to do with any of the natural lighting – particularly the daylight – resulting in more than a few smoky, blurred shots, and several scenes where someone is talking to Greg in his bar while the goddamn rapture is taking place right outside.
LAST WORDS:
If you want to break the spell of Christmas and New Year, this blunt object of a movie is a rather painful way to do it. There’s no skill or craft in its making. The story is bullshit and so is the acting. Save your 2017 and leave this sleepy shite pile wherever you may be unlucky enough to find it.
Jennifer (Gabrielle Stone), a smelly train-hopping fug-bug, arrives in Chestnut Hill to start a family with any man who’ll have her. Classy! Her prize pig victim emerges in the form of Greg (Dan McGlaughlin), a bar owner. Trouble is, he’s already got a girlfriend…
Fasten yer seatbelts bitches because here we fucking go again… The director doesn’t have anything to say with this movie. It’s completely empty of style, mood. Almost as if they are just going through the motions. There’s no spark. There’s nothing to take away from it. And the cast are practically lifeless. So lifeless, in fact, that when Greg’s mother, Edna appears it’s like someone popped a sandwich bag in study class. Samantha’s performance as Sarah manages to warm up. I’d compare it to those bland Christmas TV movies you might find playing on Channel 5 at half past 2 in the afternoon, but even they have a certain feel to them – cheesy as they may be. With this, I felt nothing. I gained nothing.
What certainly defies plausibility is the lead character’s ability to snake her way into these people’s lives. She’s a greasy, desperate, not to mention plain thing with shabby, ill-fitting clothes that only adoptive parents would feel an obligation to go anywhere near. Whereas the typical stranger would have nothing to do with her, let alone bed her. In other words, she wants to introduce herself to some Pantene before she tries to steal another girl’s boyfriend. Showers are for washing, love, not just for Psychos (1960).
Far be it from me to champion violence for the sake of violence (crosses fingers behind back), in the case of this movie, it’s not interesting enough to have practically all of its violence happen off-screen. And the reveals that something terrible has just occurred go far beyond subtle, they almost seem lazy. The action we do see is minimal at best. The kind of crap you’d expect from an extremely amateur theatre production.
As the film slugs its way forward, normally I would say that it descends, but it’s too dull a film – it just deteriorates into complete nonsense. And they never learn what to do with any of the natural lighting – particularly the daylight – resulting in more than a few smoky, blurred shots, and several scenes where someone is talking to Greg in his bar while the goddamn rapture is taking place right outside.
LAST WORDS:
If you want to break the spell of Christmas and New Year, this blunt object of a movie is a rather painful way to do it. There’s no skill or craft in its making. The story is bullshit and so is the acting. Save your 2017 and leave this sleepy shite pile wherever you may be unlucky enough to find it.
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