The Dark (UK, 2005)
No more on the Writer’s Strike unless it’s particularly amusing, poignant or significant. Instead, you get another review of a mediocre supernatural thriller. Don’t all cheer at once! You were going to get a review of David Lynch’s Lost Highway which I finally got around to seeing after 10 years of meaning to but as I still haven’t got a fucking clue what it’s about, you’ll have to wait.
Okay, so The Dark. Generally speaking, it’s pretty much run of the mill stuff although it’s well shot and pretty well acted and the story (adapted from - or should I say, loosely inpsired by - a novel called “Sheep” by Simon Maginn) is interesting, not least because it’s based on Welsh mythology and you don’t get many of those around these days, do you. It has all the requsite features of contemporary supernatural thrillers - creepy, soggy, dead girl; creepy, creaking house; creepy, bleating sheep; creepy, expositional handyman and so on. What saves it from being dire is good direction, performances, photography and a slightly out of place and interesting (if somewhat predictable) third act.
I didn’t mind any of these things. In fact I quite enjoyed the film. But it did manage to piss me off.
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The second film to be directed by avant-garde director Werner Herzog is, without doubt, the most fucked up and bizarre film I think I’ve ever seen. That would probably be saying something if I could remember which other “surreal” films I’ve seen at the moment but I can’t (aside from most Bunuel works, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, Jan Svankmeyer’s Alice and Faust etc.)