MARV Review

Oh, *they* will kill you? Really? You’ve managed to conjure a cinematic experience so profoundly underwhelming it’s practically a beige wall. This “help wanted” ad, you say? It involved a bewildered woman, naturally, and a suspiciously large amount of dust. The high-rise? Let’s just say it looks like someone raided a particularly aggressively organized storage unit. The mystery? A cult? Seriously? It’s like watching a low-budget horror movie designed by a toddler with a penchant for excessive detail. The special effects? Let’s just say they’re attempting to recreate the look of a particularly depressing tax audit. The plot? A narrative so convoluted it could cause a black hole. And the characters? They’re all trying to do something, and doing it with varying degrees of competence and a disturbing lack of self-awareness. The acting? Imagine a bunch of actors dressed as rubber chickens arguing about the meaning of life while simultaneously tripping over each other. The pacing is glacial, like wading through a swamp of disappointment. The ending? A glorious, protracted scene of carnage that’s so utterly predictable, it’s practically a sitcom. 7/10 – a fleeting glimpse of something vaguely unsettling before it promptly dissolves into a puddle of mediocrity.