Cronenberg keeps some of the family preoccupations going whilst further distinguishing himself with this ultra-violent tale of proxy-assassins and the numbing of the moral sense, in this case Riseborough's; a killer about to void her own humanity. A clinical approach punctuated with horrific acts; a vivid color-sense, stylized photography, cold characters, hallucinatory montages. I averted my eyes from the screen at least twice. Cruel and classy.
An indescribably bleak story of coming home far too late in rural Texas. Filmed in the director's own childhood homestead, the geography of familiar places is subverted into a labyrinth of creeping despair. What does the entity want? This is one of those stories where you feel suffocated by shadows. Do not watch depressed.
The movie is overpraised for its First people's premise and cast; which could have been fascinating but after a good start, it's mostly wasted on a dull, cliched script and wooden performances across the board, with the possible exception of the Black Sheep son who is a cardboard villain. Sadly, this is not anything like the film it could have been; any Romero-esque satire on commentary on racism and imperialism is squandered, though it is vividly shot and the physical effects are very satisfying.
No point treading reviews of this masterpiece of slow-burn emotional torment and blood-curdling evil written by dullards who think James Wan and 'A Quiet Place' is effective horror. This one gets under your skin, like 'The VVitch' and convinced you that the blackest magic is real.