Stockholm, Pennsylvania

Watching Saoirse Ronan's career is still something of a raunchy voyeurism for me, which makes me feel a little guilty. Doubly so in this case, because I'm constantly forced to watch her silent solitude in her bedroom through static shots that work for the surprisingly bold thesis of whether real life is inherently as closed and confined as under the closed basement door of a person "who means you well". No worries about getting past the expressionless face of the protagonist during the running time, but there is an unexpected break in the middle that, while it surprisingly sends the film somewhere into pure thriller waters, it's hard to see what else we’d be able to watch afterwards if the story kept within the same confines. For how poorly and statically directed it is, the film actually has balls. (01/31/2016)