Linda (Jacki Kerin) inherits her late mother's estate: a sprawling house that operates as a rest home for old codgers. Full of shadowy corridors, dark rooms, and wrinkly coffin-dodgers who smell like stale biscuits and wee, the house gives Linda the heebie-jeebies, her anxiety increasing when she gradually uncovers a terrible family secret.
A much as I like my horror films to be lively and gory, I have been known to enjoy the occasional slow-burn chiller as well, but antipodean effort Next of Kin isn't just slow-burn... it's sloooooooow-burn. It's slower than a tortoise doing Tai Chi. If it were any slower, it would run backwards. That means for 90% of the film's running time, nothing of interest happens. It's shot lovingly, with creative camerawork and great cinematography, and the accompanying music is wonderful, but boy is it dull!
When the film finally decides to stop being boring and actually get moving (about ten minutes from the end), it rushes the denouement so that matters aren't resolved very clearly, and then chucks in a bit of gore and some explosions - but it's a classic case of too little too late. To be honest, I'd rather climb to the top of Uluru and go ten rounds with Thumpy McBasher the boxing kangaroo than watch this mind-crushingly laborious yawn-fest from 'down under' more than once.
A much as I like my horror films to be lively and gory, I have been known to enjoy the occasional slow-burn chiller as well, but antipodean effort Next of Kin isn't just slow-burn... it's sloooooooow-burn. It's slower than a tortoise doing Tai Chi. If it were any slower, it would run backwards. That means for 90% of the film's running time, nothing of interest happens. It's shot lovingly, with creative camerawork and great cinematography, and the accompanying music is wonderful, but boy is it dull!
When the film finally decides to stop being boring and actually get moving (about ten minutes from the end), it rushes the denouement so that matters aren't resolved very clearly, and then chucks in a bit of gore and some explosions - but it's a classic case of too little too late. To be honest, I'd rather climb to the top of Uluru and go ten rounds with Thumpy McBasher the boxing kangaroo than watch this mind-crushingly laborious yawn-fest from 'down under' more than once.