The film intimately immerses us in the psyche of a woman for whom each day is a minefield of uncomfortable interactions.
In its balance of a wispy narrative and long, quiet episodes of textual close reading, the film feels incomplete in a productive way.
The Other Half’s emotional resonance is consistently stifled by excessively gloomy aesthetic and stylistic tics.
What could have been a rote retread of Pasolini’s Teorema blossoms into a study of factional identity and power dynamics.
The songs performed here function as the creative end point of emotional trauma, revealing pain gradually transfigured into art.