Edgar Wright's followup to Baby Driver. Young ladies move to London — Kiwi Thomasin McKenzie from Cornwall in the present, Anya Taylor-Joy in the 1960s — and somewhat predictable predation happens. The two share a psycho-horror connection that I had difficulty following, which is to say that I don't think we're supposed to even try to grasp the fine detail. Like fashion, things remain superficial and sometimes beautiful while gesturing at innovation and provocation, all the while moving too quickly for anything to matter. It has its moments, mainly when McKenzie stops running to spend some time with Terry Stamp (! — why didn't they tell me) or her underdrawn love interest Michael Ajao or grandma Rita Tushingham. Landlady Diana Rigg's exposition is a bit trying, as is the clunky conclusion and the bitchkreig that never actualises. Doctor Who Matt Smith has the soulless charm and sleeze under control. Of course #metoo, but really it's the old cliche: if you remember the 1960s then you weren't there.
Jason Di Rosso summarises and dismisses. A. O. Scott dug it, contrasting Stamp with Chalomet (!) of all people. Dana Stevens: cinematographer Chung Chung-hoon is "best known for his collaborations with the Korean filmmaker Park Chan-wook" — and his contribution here is most of it. Michael Wood.