The LEGO Movie 2: The Second Part
The Walking Dead
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All Critics (16)
| Top Critics (5)
| Fresh (12)
| Rotten (4)
A mild-mannered Irish-set drama that never quite manages to be scary or exciting.
Horror buffs can do a lot worse and thanks to the rise of video on demand, the title perfectly describes the ideal viewing experience.
"Don't Leave Home" feels only half-baked. Mr. Tully's downbeat, dreamy approach to horror is a welcome one, but this time he leaves us with too many tight lips and loose ends.
As wonderful as it is to see a filmmaker with more uncommon inspirations than some of his peers, it's equally disheartening when he falls short of them.
While this twisty tale of an "evil miracle" connected to a self-exiled former priest ultimately withholds too much to resolve all of its enigmas, the atmospheric mood and persuasive performances keep you watching.
I'd give it an A for effort and C for execution.
...it remains a distinctly spooky pleasure on its own merit.
A creepy supernatural thriller that reminds me of Rod Serling's early 70s television horror series Night Gallery.
... gradually and effectively builds suspense without resorting to cheap scares, even when the story lacks a deeper emotional resonance and relies too heavily on unexplained coincidences.
[Manages] to produce some scares, and several very eerie images, culminating in a party scene and art auction that rivals Get Out on the 'white people be hella creepy' scale.
Don't Leave Home transposes us to the purgatory between consciousness and slumber, at a time when it is uncertain which is preferable.
Don't Leave Home's elliptical tone is pitch perfect.
Atrociously acted (the American accents of the unmistakably Irish protagonist and the art-dealer aren't remotely convincing,) poorly paced, incomprehensible, and boring. Some nice shots but the sound design is uniformly terrible, with overwrought 'Celtic' music drowning out entire lines of inaudible dialog. Some very poor light-balance. Filled with plot contrivances, this film is like an over-signposted road to nowhere; a dismal, sophomore, soporific effort that panders to an American tourist audience. Its mysteries amount to little more than vagueness, and ludicrous arthouse clichés like the 'rich buyers' in their powdered wigs feel like bargain-basement Pasolini. The theme of models and dioramas only emphasizes woeful comparisons to the wonderful 'Hereditary', and comparisons to 'Get Out' are insulting. The awful David McSavage appears as a ludicrous Riff-Raff/ Lurch-style factotum.
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