Another study in the dreadfulness of closeted urban living, the gnawing fear of what threat lurks on the landing outside the door, up the next bend of the stairs, or, oh my God, inside, this is in direct line of succession from The Seventh Victim, Rosemary's Baby, Sleepwalk, Nomads, Blue, and so on. The character hides inside, runs outside, trusts and distrusts. The first scene, which sets her off, is one of the simplest frightening scenes, or most frightening simple scenes, I can remember. The performance of the distraught and helpless heroine teeters on the edge of absurdity all the way through, but the two characters she is torn between--which should she trust? which is the threat?--are so ambiguously sinister (the fortune teller is especially well played), one understands her erratic behavior; I'd be in a state myself. The movie is modestly scaled but well sustained, with a reasonably satisfying conclusion to boot. Nice job.
Review of All of them Witches
