Directed and Written by Lodge H. Kerrigan
There's the dissonant rhythm of his cutting, fracturing more than cohering, and the way his cropping a frame so severely makes them like bits of jigsaw and you have to lean in
- - -Kerrigan's playing you, like Hitchcock before him, only with little trace of Hitchcockian cheek. He wants us to actively believe Peter Greene is going to visit the same bad things on the estranged daughter he's tracking down as he did that trail of dead kids and we do. His is a syntax of confusion, baiting our preconceived notions of schizophrenics, and of schizophrenic thrillers, then dismantling them by letting us into the head of one, letting us hear the voices he hears, and taking the stylistic twitches to empathic multitask when the din of ghost chatter makes sense of the impulse to burrow into your own skull with a pair of scissors just to shut them the fuck up.
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