This is not a horror movie. This is a horror film by and for women, and it's boring as hell. It's slow, it's disjointed, no beginning and no end. The action is replaced by looks, very very long looks. The nightmarish events consist of betrayals between best friends. The man serves only as furniture on which they sit to think about their inner problems. I miss the movies, horror or not, made by men who knew their craft, with male, white, patriarchal actors, whose manly presence and cavernous voices made the stories thick as ancient myths. For two years, since the ideological coups of #metoo and #blm, cinema has been hollow, bland, standardized. Films no longer tell a story, casts and scripts are nothing more than certificates of conformity to the woke dictate. And these quotas have done what they always do: replace unpredictable genius with imposed mediocrity. I miss the good old stories.

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