This cheeky suburban black comedy-horror confection builds from a slow start to a delicious finish, making up for what it lacks in subtlety with a whopping dose of impish delight.
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To reveal more would spoil a good last-third twist that morphs from suspense to high-camp comedy drenched in gore. Let’s just say there’s more going on behind Janet’s glossy veneer of sang-froid than you might initially think. Eastwood’s deadpan expression, the one thing that strongly recalls her father as an actor, is a secret weapon here, along with Culpo’s snippy timing, which does justice to screenwriter April Wolfe’s chucklesome one-liners.
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