OPENS JUNE 4, CERT 15, 98 MINS This revelatory performance from Lee Evans sees him shed all traces of his familiar zany persona (along with his body hair) and replace it with a subterranean blue-grey skin hue that looks barely human. Evans plays Sean Veil, a man so traumatised by his arrest and near conviction for a series of brutal murders that he decides he must account for every minute of his subsequent life, for fear of being accused again. To this end, he places himself under surveillance. Scores of tiny cameras map his every movement in his dungeon-like home. And on the rare occasion he goes out, Sean straps a portable camera to his chest. First-time writer/director John Simpson makes fantastic visual use of this narrative device?the film is told through snatches of grainy digital footage shot from spy cameras that peep at Sean from precarious angles. Unfortunately, though it's impressively realised, Simpson's movie tails off towards the end. But when it works, it's a genuinely sinister little thriller.
OPENS JUNE 4, CERT 15, 98 MINS
This revelatory performance from Lee Evans sees him shed all traces of his familiar zany persona (along with his body hair) and replace it with a subterranean blue-grey skin hue that looks barely human.
Evans plays Sean Veil, a man so traumatised by his arrest and near conviction for a series of brutal murders that he decides he must account for every minute of his subsequent life, for fear of being accused again. To this end, he places himself under surveillance. Scores of tiny cameras map his every movement in his dungeon-like home. And on the rare occasion he goes out, Sean straps a portable camera to his chest. First-time writer/director John Simpson makes fantastic visual use of this narrative device?the film is told through snatches of grainy digital footage shot from spy cameras that peep at Sean from precarious angles.
Unfortunately, though it’s impressively realised, Simpson’s movie tails off towards the end. But when it works, it’s a genuinely sinister little thriller.
