No One Lives – review

Sep 06 2013 - 1 min read

This entry into the fast-growing 'down with the 1%' breed of slasher flick leaves the audience no one to root for, writes Mike McCahill

'No One Lives'
'No One Lives'PR

Taken with last week's superior You're Next, this dreary slasher would suggest we're in for a raft of horror runaround pitting representatives of the 1% against the murderously aggrieved remainder. Here, it's a psychopath wrestling a set of backwoods ne'er-do-wells for possession of the brittle blonde heiress he's kidnapped. Director Ryuhei Kitamura ladles on the entrails like a ghoulish dinnerlady, but his three-way narrative strategies lead nowhere: the film's switching between the fictional equivalents of Ted Bundy, the Manson family and Paris Hilton, without realising this gives us no one we might remotelygive a hoot about.

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Splashes of gore and evisceration combine with a nicely nasty psycho-killer turn from Luke Evans to enliven this grindy slasher from Midnight Meat Train director Ryuhei Kitamura. When stereotypical hoodlums turn over the wrong couple in a remote diner, twisty table-turning retribution ensues. Shooting on Super-16 (rather than digital), cinematographer Daniel Pearl achieves a neat balance between old-school grain and modern sheen, thankfully eschewing the tedious turd-brown-palette that has become de rigueur. David Cohen's table-turning script owes a debt to Jennifer Lynch's disreputable back-catalogue – his next project, Underground, is a "journey into the world of extreme cuisine" to which director Neil Marshall was reportedly attached. Waiter!

Original: The Guardian

Author: Mike McCahill

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