For maybe the first half hour I was constantly thinking 'why am I even watching this?´for it seemed to be little more than a Gen Z update, often quite crude, of an original film with a plot that is almost so simple and familiar that those of my own generation would struggle to forget it even after thirty years.
But then it turns a bit of a corner, throwing in a few surprises, as it oscillates around a range of novel nuances and possibilities, flirting even with what seemed to me to be a mood borrowed from recent bestseller The Housemaid — which is a bit naughty because Freida McFadden's psychological thriller is about to get its own cinematic adaptation starring her of the 'good jeans' and Amanda Seyfried. (They'll have to do something about that ending.)
Here too the final act feels a bit rushed and under-constructed, and throughout the narrative a STOP sign had been portended in a manner that can only be described as Chekhovian, but which turns out to lack the necessary prop pay-off we associate with said Russian author.
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