Beautiful filming locations, and careful mindfulness for costume design, hair, and makeup, readily contrast with the immediacy and severity of the premise, and the narrative that wastes absolutely no time. Marc Canham's score, lending ambience - the construction of every scene, including lighting, dialogue, and the smallest of details - and the very notions underlying the narrative indicate a feature blending together both action and the horror-thriller. Though we're not readily sold, 'Final girl' works very hard from the start to grab and hold our attention.
Rounding details of the plot - the how, the why, background - are left unclear, or omitted outright. Sharp, precise dialogue, snappy pacing, and the meticulous construction of every scene engenders a sense that the writing and execution is too perfect to such an extent as to be ham-handed, or feeling artificial, or fantastical. Case in point: lovingly composed hair, swaying in the breeze and remaining dry in a rainstorm. Yet every single facet is considered with total deliberation, seemingly laid out with utmost painstaking intention. If this is fantasy, it is the darkest fantasy. If it is artifice, it's the most exquisite artifice. If it's ham-handed, it's only to disarm us and move quickly into the most intense and stimulating segments of the narrative.
I repeat myself, but only for necessary emphasis: Every scene is crafted with the most loving, attentive thoughtfulness. Intelligent exploration of the space pairs with impeccable, polished employment of lighting to build eye-catching visions with calculated artistry. And with that fastidious design decisively established, the assembled cast leans into that slant with forceful, electric performances. That's true for everyone, but Abigail Breslin most of all. Its been a long time since she was that sweet little girl in 'Little Miss Sunshine,' but Breslin's turn as Veronica is especially vivid and violent, demanding poise, nuance, and physicality that she manages deftly.
There's an argument to be made that 'Final girl' is too perfect, too scrupulously premeditated. And that's not incorrect. In a runtime of just under 90 minutes - as invigorating as the film is, the entire length passes without true visceral thrills, suspense, or any sense of the inherent horror that the scenario portends. Adam Prince's screenplay is sound, Tyler Shields' direction is technically flawless, and every actor's performance is exact. But the unerring expertise with which the movie has been realized seems to purposefully excise the excitement that would bring us back for more, or make it a strong recommendation to our fellows. Unblemished quality only means so much if the result eschews passion.
Every frame is a work of art. Every passing moment of delivery and movement from the cast is aces. Every word typed onto a page that resulted in this film is a masterpiece. The finished product is not - it's just too pristine for its own good. To be sure, this is highly enjoyable, and the excellence of its craft deserves great praise. But an action horror-thriller that doesn't want its audience to feel anything isn't an action horror-thriller at all. 'Final girl' is entertaining, and worth checking out, but just temper your expectations with the caveat that the filmmakers went about their work with a mind for art over heart.
Rounding details of the plot - the how, the why, background - are left unclear, or omitted outright. Sharp, precise dialogue, snappy pacing, and the meticulous construction of every scene engenders a sense that the writing and execution is too perfect to such an extent as to be ham-handed, or feeling artificial, or fantastical. Case in point: lovingly composed hair, swaying in the breeze and remaining dry in a rainstorm. Yet every single facet is considered with total deliberation, seemingly laid out with utmost painstaking intention. If this is fantasy, it is the darkest fantasy. If it is artifice, it's the most exquisite artifice. If it's ham-handed, it's only to disarm us and move quickly into the most intense and stimulating segments of the narrative.
I repeat myself, but only for necessary emphasis: Every scene is crafted with the most loving, attentive thoughtfulness. Intelligent exploration of the space pairs with impeccable, polished employment of lighting to build eye-catching visions with calculated artistry. And with that fastidious design decisively established, the assembled cast leans into that slant with forceful, electric performances. That's true for everyone, but Abigail Breslin most of all. Its been a long time since she was that sweet little girl in 'Little Miss Sunshine,' but Breslin's turn as Veronica is especially vivid and violent, demanding poise, nuance, and physicality that she manages deftly.
There's an argument to be made that 'Final girl' is too perfect, too scrupulously premeditated. And that's not incorrect. In a runtime of just under 90 minutes - as invigorating as the film is, the entire length passes without true visceral thrills, suspense, or any sense of the inherent horror that the scenario portends. Adam Prince's screenplay is sound, Tyler Shields' direction is technically flawless, and every actor's performance is exact. But the unerring expertise with which the movie has been realized seems to purposefully excise the excitement that would bring us back for more, or make it a strong recommendation to our fellows. Unblemished quality only means so much if the result eschews passion.
Every frame is a work of art. Every passing moment of delivery and movement from the cast is aces. Every word typed onto a page that resulted in this film is a masterpiece. The finished product is not - it's just too pristine for its own good. To be sure, this is highly enjoyable, and the excellence of its craft deserves great praise. But an action horror-thriller that doesn't want its audience to feel anything isn't an action horror-thriller at all. 'Final girl' is entertaining, and worth checking out, but just temper your expectations with the caveat that the filmmakers went about their work with a mind for art over heart.