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Somewhere between Rear Window and Rosemary’s Baby, but this time with a female writer/director behind it. That line should be enough to excite most cinephiles, and I have to admit that’s the exact effect it had on me. Unfortunately, this just ends up as a dull middle-of-the-road between them.

The first half an hour is, at best, draining. No characters are explored at all past a surface-level understanding of who they are and where they are in life. The most important thing, however, is that we know that one character is a woman in a country whose language she can’t speak. We know that’s the most important thing because there’s another scene every five minutes or so to establish it. It’s established in a cab, when she meets a landlord, in a supermarket, when she meets her husband’s friends… It’s absolutely relentless in establishing this singular part of her character.

Because we know nothing else about her, it’s difficult to relate to what she’s scared of or paranoid about. They’re all things that you’d naturally be apprehensive about too, which makes it even worse. This is a really disappointing waste of what could’ve been an interesting premise.

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