Strickland adds to the panoply of cursed object films with a hyperstylised mish-mash, like an Amicus production helmed by Dario Argento, set in an indeterminate, imagined 1970s or '80s. The object in question is a red dress which is a killer in both senses of the word, bought by a divorced woman for wearing on blind dates from a department store seemingly staffed by witches. If Roald Dahl had written supernatural horror, the end result would have not been too dissimilar in terms of plot, but that only gives you half the picture, which also incorporates seriously disturbing sexual undercurrents, the character's creepily prying faux-friendly employers and the very British and blackly comic, bland mutedness of reaction to the horror when it becomes overtly inexplicable. Then there is the soundtrack, with disjointed, exaggerated effects only designed to disturb, and visual cutaways to the same effect. It's kitschily sumptuous and utterly demented at the same time, and unlikely to resemble anything you'll have seen since Strickland's previous features.
7/10
No comments:
Post a Comment