Have you ever been sat in a bar, minding your own business, when along comes an extremely hot young woman who chats you up and invites you back to hers for no-strings-attached nookie? No, me neither. But that's what happens to Paul in Ryde (the film, not the seaside town on the Isle of Wight).
Similarly, have you ever been in the company of two incredibly sexy babes for just a few minutes before being invited to take part in a Jacuzzi threesome? Can't say I have, but Paul has.
Come to think of it, Paul (David Wachs) only ever seems to meet women who are in their early twenties, look like glamour models, and find him irresistible. Where are the fat, the ugly and the aged? I guess they prefer to keep their hideousness hidden behind closed doors.
Still, perhaps it's safer that way, because Paul just so happens to be a highly volatile psycho who has taken on the persona of Karl (now dead in the trunk of his car), driver for a taxi app called Ryde. Sluts, drug-users, the obnoxious: all bring out the worst in Paul (AKA Karl). Only the pure and innocent survive a Ryde in HIS car.
Although chock full of mean-spirited violence, mostly perpetrated against defenceless women, Ryde is not just a misogynistic horror film, but a warning to everyone that strangers simply cannot be trusted. Even the seemingly friendliest of people can be total whack jobs. That's what makes this film effective: anyone might be a Paul, ready to stab you in the gut, drown you in your pool, or pummel you in the face until the pulpy mess that was once your head comes right off.
6.5 out of 10, rounded up to 7 for the slick cinematography of L.A., all the beautiful ladies (one of whom obliges us with full frontal nudity), and the nasty violence.
