i had assumed, going in, that the film would be set entirely in the past, entirely a memory play. and if it had been, it would still be a remarkable film. i was so struck by the way the camera is always lingering outside the home or at a distance, eavesdropping on one's own memories, or focused on the details of a moment like a mother's hands working a bowl of shredded potatoes while having a difficult conversation.

but the…

i took a two-hour train ride down into LA (that was delayed an extra hour) to catch this in the theatre and it did not disappoint. remarkable atmosphere, this mix of a malevolent past and a rotting modernity with a sharp digital sheen that only amplified the uncanny, hypnotic rhythms simultaneously indebted to Kurosawa but very much Duane's own, incredible sound and music of course. also, bringing in Olwen Fouéré as a one-scene ringer to set the tone for the…

this is not a highly reviewed film on this site (which is a shame), so the first review i saw gave it one star and read in full: "I want to break that shitty nerd's glasses"

That shitty nerd is Chris King, a record collector and archivist. And it's hard not to want to break his glasses, early on. He bemoans the artificiality of the modern world (although director Paul Duane playfully lets the wind violently whipping around them drown…