If you love nothing more than feeling like you're in the hands of a tad mad film-maker, then The Lure's just the ticket. Picture Andrzej Zulawski's Possession re-imagined as a Eurovision music video. Picture Rainer Werner Fassbinder directing The Little Mermaid. Stir in water and pussy juice, shake hard with bloodied ice, and chug a chug a lug until your feet turn to foam around you and you sink into a murky pink sunset.
If The Grimm Brothers had smoked a bunch of crack cocaine and written Hans Christian Anderson's seminal story instead of him, then The Lure is what you might've had read to you by your abusive parents before bed. It tells the tale, set to a funky disco beat, of the aquatic sisters Silver and Golden and their private fishy bits, and all the men and women-folk out to make a quick buck off of 'em... or at least stick a finger in a little bit, swish it side to side, just to see what it smells like.
Silver and Golden, big bright shining Cthulhu grins and all, are nobody's victims. They are amused, they are fascinated, they are swatting at their prey with their big slimy singular tentacle parts. And so they dance, those who would victimize each other, a slow dance where everybody's in on the game but just kind of waiting to see where it takes them, bemused and bored and befuddled.
There's lots of it going around. There were moments where I had no idea what was going on watching The Lure, but isn't that the point, really, of watching a movie about girlish sea monsters singing through frantic supermarket sweeps? So we just brush back our hair and climb into the grocery cart with them, along for the inexplicable and one of a kind ride. It's truly the best kind of bonkers.
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