CURE Review

The steady beat of a faulty water tap. Commonly a source of annoyance and frustration. A busy day, another thing to fix. Tap, tap, tap. Tired eyes scowling at it. Moments pass, hostility turns to indifference. "I could just leave it. It's not that bad." Indifference then to calmness. "It's done nothing wrong." Now unfocused, but still staring directly at the fixture. Not seeing the object, really, but also not seeing anything around it either. A sluggish blink, like a tired parent up again at 4 AM. The shoulders relax. The stare never ceases. The hums and static in the room disappear. Just glassy eyes staring ahead to the tap, tap, tap. Attention obscured and hostility forgotten, unnoticed goes the darkening of the room. First in the corners, then spreading like an oil spill. The blank wall now enveloped in black, the air thickens. Is someone else here? Darkness reaches the tips of toes. The water goes crimson. Each tap heavier and heavier. Staring ahead like a lost man, like a man with his entire life behind him and he just realized it in this moment. Standing for what could be a minute. Or what could be days. He doesn't know. Tap, tap, tap.

That's how this film makes me feel.

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The above was taken from my Letterboxd review.