That there would be Mark Duplass in the recently released horror flick Creep, which is about a man who hires another man to film him for a day because - SO HE SAYS, DUNDUNDUN - he's got cancer and he wants to send some life-advice to his not-yet-born son. Things do not, as they say, go right. .
Anyway Creep's got some creeps but I wanted more creeps from Creep. It's got some twists but I wanted more twists. I want more, Creep! More more! And I'm not (just) talking about the homoerotic stuff -- the movie actually commits to that aspect admirably, bless its black heart and blue balls.
There's a moment about halfway into the movie, once it's actually played most of its hand - earlier than I anticipated, mind you; it does have further to go than you think it might do - that offered a real road-less-traveled (it involves drugs, in case you're wondering what I'm talking about after you've seen the film) and for a white hot moment I thought we were putting on our big boy pants and strolling right down it... but the movie's not quite up to all that. Alas. There's some genuine, you know, creepiness up in here - silliness be damned (or maybe it's because it's so outwardly silly) that wolf mask actually got to me - but ultimately it all lands with not much more than a well-aimed thud.
"Co-sign. He could have walked away with that Oscar easily. Not only is it one of the best male performances of the year, but they owe him for Grand Budapest Hotel. Why no campaign? He's not bothered, clearly." -- James Birnie