The Scary of Sixty-First

While the giallo influence may have been intentional, it didn't land for me. The conspiracy-driven plot combined with ritual horror was more frustrating than eerie. The constant tonal shifts, including the off-putting audio choices, made it feel more awkward than unsettling. I kept wondering if the weirdness was part of the charm for fans of this style, but it just didn't click. If you're into offbeat horror that pushes the boundary of strange, it might be for you, but I found myself distracted by how rough it all felt.

Even with its strange premise, it felt like it was trying too hard to shock rather than build suspense. The Epstein conspiracy angle didn't add depth, and I kept waiting for something to pay off that never did. Overall, it's a miss for me.

Two roomies score a suspiciously cheap apartment in Manhattan, but after a first night of disturbed sleep the nightmare never ends ...

Strange shoe-string budget production, written by two of the actors. It's well edited and paced, cinematography pretty rough, probably too much dialogue, but the score has a nice synth vibe here and there, and the sensibility is reminiscent of pervie '70s stuff, from the era when New York was a nutters' paradise.

The shape of it is intriguing, with three overlapping delusions fuelled by pharamceuticals. I say three, because there are three principal characters, each of whom has gone off the deep end in her own way, but the delusions are inseparable from each other.

The intro makes a point of figures and faces in the lofty architecture overseeing the madness that's about to break out below, and there's a sense of a demiurge in charge of an evil world, personified by the media characters of those involved in the Jeffrey Epstein affair. In the climax, which involves a protective magic crystal, there's an insert of what looks like Epstein's face, tying him in with an occult force at work. Reviews emphasizing the reality of that affair are missing the point entirely.

The performances are energetic but patchy, failing to give meaning in any subtle way - that's probably down to a naive reliance on dialogue and lack of experience in the direction and acting. Mind you, the mental breakdown of the Jewish girl is worryingly authentic. The sex scenes have a certain JNSQ - or maybe they're just porn. There is humour in the air, but the only time I got a sniff of it was when the boyfriend is dragged along to witness the aftermath.

In the end the story didn't seem coherent to me, either pychologically or emotionally, but still an engaging mystery of why we insist on mysteries.

Noelle (Madeline Quinn) and Addie (Betsey Brown) rent a spacious Manhattan apartment. The realtor seems suspicious. A girl (Dasha Nekrasova) walks in claiming to be a realtor. She's actually investigating and reveals to Noelle that the apartment was owned by billionaire Jeffrey Epstein. This takes place after his suicide while in custody.

The boyfriend sucks. Noelle is not a nice friend. Addie's radar is broken. I don't care much about these people. The only one worth rooting for is the girl and she comes in later. This is an indie horror bordering on experimental. The Epstein saga is traumatic for some and could be compelling for horror material. The second tier actors try to do some spooky acting but it comes off a bit comical. I can appreciate the attempt but the indie filmmaking does not quite achieve true spooky atmosphere.

Neither suspenseful and self-aware enough to be a gallo film nor clever in its psychological distress of the stripe of Argento, nor as conspiracy-addled as Eyes Wide Shut (despite the material lends itself to a serious search-no Aquino, no Wexner Ohio police force, none of the threads re: Epstein's being a tapped gifted student the likes of Sarfatti; an episode of Subliminal Jihad will take you much further). Nor is the film willing to hurl itself into experimentation and formal editing proper (a Brakhage-esque experiment in conspiracy qua audio-visual editing, like a Project Wandering Soul meets Paul McCarthy, would be genuinely interesting). This is a film that loses its thread early on and lapses into clichés that do not embrace their being clichés, which means the film refuses to be self-referential. It loses the thread in a way that is similar to Jacques Rozier's Maine Ocean, but is not as smartly edited or funny. This ends up looking like the director made a poor film not as a critical exercise with which to playfully challenge but because they simply could not make a good film. The sole saving grace is, at certain points, the lighting. A pity, because the Epstein matter lends itself to cinema. Go watch Francesco Rosi for much more accurate and affecting cinematic portrays of conspiracy. I do hope the director's subsequent film takes up the challenge of making a genuinely good film.

Terrible movie. Acting and dialogue was so terrible the audience was laughing. Tried to do an Eyes Wide Shut x American Psycho thing, but it was like a high schooler's tribute. Was looking forward to it being shot on film, but it was done terribly. Half the shots didn't even come out and were used anyway. It's clear this entire movie was just to showcase that Nekrasova is a sexy little freak, as the clearest and most thoughtful shots were her spitting in co-star Madeline Quinn's mouth during a (completely unnecessary to the plot?) sex scene. The ONLY redeemable part of the entire film was the score by Eli Kessler, which was subtle but powerful at the same time. Incredible musician.

See this movie but only if you stream it, dont give this any more money lol.