This film has prompted the need for a shower after watching, according to some reviews. It's easy to see why. The overall story is grubby and disturbing. The pacing is very very slow. The titular creature, who spends most of its time in Philip's (Sean Harris) holdall, is simple and genuinely frightening. Sometimes it looks real; other times, like the prop it is.
Alongside Harris's non-smiling persona, is Maurice, played by Alun Armstrong. Armstrong has made a career of playing off-the-wall, often quite abrasively lovable, characters. Here, he relishes every filthy, murky, horrific aspect of the character he plays.
Director Matthew Holness doesn't seem interested in a sprawling storyline; rather, he is interested in an immersively murky atmosphere, and this works really well. An almost David Lynch level of horror is grafted onto the story of the shunned Philip's existence, trying to rid himself of a malignancy that refuses to let him go.
The wonderful incidental score is provided by the Radiophonic Workshop, formerly under the umbrella of the BBC, and responsible for - among many other things - the theme music for Doctor Who.
Yet another entry in the race to play variations on the child abuse theme.
This one comes across like an episode from the League of Gentlemen, so solemn and po-faced that it becomes laughable, especially with the reliance on a "spooky" electronic soundtrack to spice up the bleak visuals.
The terse, Pinteresque dialogue sequences merely add to the feeling of parody.
On paper, this ticked all the boxes: a plot that did not require an explanation; art house and slipstream. In reality it is a never ending series of scenes watching a bloke walk around with a bag with a puppet in it posing as a Harold Pinteresque play. The ending was sadly predictable. Some parts I am sure were unintentionally funny. It has been a long time since I have given a film one star, and I don't like doing it, but struggling to come up with any reason to give it two.