Greta

It's been quite a while since [Oscar-winning] Neil Jordan graced us with his directorial presence...he won that Oscar for Best Screenplay...he won't be winning anything for this!

The writing is laughably bad. The performances are [at times] unintentionally hysterical. The plotholes...gaping chasms. The logic...well, there is no logic.

Quick...a chance to escape...look, there's a [partially] glass [fronted] door and all those ground-level windows I could smash to freedom...but, no...I'll go down to the [inescapable] basement instead. Jings...is that a body-bag!?! Boof!!! Back to where I started!!! What a bummer!

Now...is she a Sapphic stalker or just a mean, old mad mamma hellbent on murder!?! Take your pick...in this film, take nothing at face value!

Isabelle Huppert - Goddess of Arthouse - can [and usually does] turn any old script to her advantage. Not this one...when she gets her finger chopped off...you'll be howling. It's the campest finger-chopping scene ever filmed!

As for Stephen Rea's [short-lived] most incompetent private investigator [of all time]...well, the highlight [of this scene] is when Ms Huppert dances...it's genius!

Perhaps, a point has been missed...perhaps, yes, maybe...Neil Jordan's intention was to do his own version of Serial Mom - if so, it's [darkly] hysterical. If not, it's an embarrassing howler!

Trailer...