The film is ostensibly about the war for the soul of a house, but it couldn’t feel less lived in.
The filmmakers settle for retrograde anguish and warmed-over artistry.
Could this have been the photo that sparked the tale of svelte murderess? Who leaves nothing but severed limps in her wake?
The film is a hysterical male victimhood nightmare in the Fatal Attraction mold.
The scariest thing about it is that it intends for its stereotype-mining ooga-booga racial tensions to be both incisive and thrilling.