Director Mickey Keating should be applauded for trying an ambitious idea, but perhaps he should focus on one particular story and build his characters within that.
This assault on the senses drowns out any potential narrative through-line, trapping viewers like one of its victims: locked in a cramped box in a basement, far from help.
Keating fails to effectively transmit his love of pushing the horror genre to new heights, with the result that we feel less gleefully complicit than merely voyeuristic.
None more so than another standout performance from [Ashley] Bell as a Fifties-obsessed fractured mind, who flips from nightclub chanteuse, to Donna Reed homemaker, to carving knife slasher in the blink of an eye.
as the Storyteller, no doubt correctly, wonders aloud whether some might find the violence too gratuitous and the story too ambiguous, others (myself included) will just relish getting lost in the mannerisms, the mood and the madness of it all.
