Gilmour93

If a crime occurs in Yorkshire, don’t call the police. They’re already there... The work environment is so grim that even Serpic would feel queasy. Paddy Considine, gradually losing his assertiveness, and Sean Harris, who can manage to hold a bucket of disgust inside his body while projecting it onto the surface, are central to this. From the misty haze of Jarrold’s film, clear contours of harsh reality begin to emerge.

"Jack, I spent an hour last night in my bedroom talking to Fiorello La Guardia, and he's been dead for 40 years. Now where are the Ghostbusters?" It flows smoothly like a river of slime under the Big Apple, the Titanic arrives from Southampton with a slight delay, and Dr. Venkman can neutralize both the Carpathian katanas and Moldavian tyrants with just his sarcasm. An academic discussion between restaurateur Janosz and Ben Jabituy from Short Circuit would be simply enriching.

A few seconds of static shot on a red neon sign through a window pane, then the camera lazily and ominously glides across the room as if Peter Deming were behind it. It looks good, but as soon as Jaromír Nosek opens the door, we’re home. With the introduction of a third person, the content takes a nosedive and the viewer is faced with a quiz. Is it a) a poorly disguised maintenance worker, b) a well-disguised Sasquatch, or c) someone entirely different for the sake of a twist? The answer is probably guessable, and if I were staying in the adjacent room, I’d want to see the guest book at the front desk in the morning. If they can find it, that is...