My Soul to Take ★★★★½

in an absolutely bonkers minor key, embellished with one of the strangest senses of space and interconnectivity i've seen in a slasher, and traipsing through an absurd wealth of thinly sketched but ultimately quite compelling ideas about trauma and masculinity and mythology, a solid late effort indeed. fractured identities flee into in the next generation, and, failing to escape their pain and guilt, one by one fold back into the lone survivor, as only the living remain to bear witness, to play the part of the heroic victim, and "fake it good", learning to perform a love of pain just to be human again, human still. smashed dollhouses, strewn bits of a childhood, visitations in the mirror, all of it amounts to the burden of simply living. if the high school segments weren't so affectionately, ridiculously lived-in, none of this might land. but pathos and pleasure go hand in hand, don't they?

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