Night of the Hunted review – claustrophobic state-of-the nation sniper thriller – The Guardian
“GODISNOWHERE,” says a church billboard, the vantage level from which an nameless sniper rains down high-velocity dying on a helpless filling station on this nihilistic however finely honed thriller. Do you learn that as “now right here” or “nowhere”? That might decide whether or not you’re a vengeful Maga absolutist or floundering liberal relativist in director Franck Khalfoun’s state-of-the nation litmus check, which inadvertently performs out as a shell-shocked Trump-era model of Clerks.
Alice (Camille Rowe), who runs social media for a pharma firm, is getting back from a enterprise conference, with a fertility appointment along with her companion ready again at dwelling. However one thing is improper in her life: her colleague John (Jeremy Scippio) is sharing her hotel-room mattress however, as they hit the highway at the hours of darkness, she shuts down his makes an attempt at banter. They cease at a 24-hour service station to high up, and never solely is the ominous billboard out again, however there’s additionally a blood-splattered “God grant me the serenity … ” signal behind the counter. And as Alice exits, divine judgment – within the type of a sniper bullet – cuts her down via her left shoulder.
Evening of the Hunted operates as a basic and cannily dealt with thriller below confinement, alongside the strains of Assault on Precinct 13 or Panic Room. Alice has to make use of all means at her disposal to staunch her wounds, alert random wayfarers to the shooter and set up communication with the skin world. Khalfoun effortlessly strings these vignettes along with a horribly claustrophobic spiking rigidity, and as she plugs sightlines with the road of black-and-white striped umbrellas obtainable from behind the counter, on the very least the movie is a good endorsement for the vary of products obtainable at fashionable roadside emporia.
It’s not fairly as convincing as an ethical referendum. When Alice lastly exchanges phrases along with her metallic-voiced tormentor, his profile – cuckolded husband, Center East veteran, embittered blue-collar conspiracist – is dead-centre within the anticipated demographic. Khalfoun’s movie is subsequently much less a nuanced moral showdown than a head-on collision of worldviews, because the marksman harangues the marketeer’s decisions as a childless profession girl. And in its oppressive irreconcilability – adjudicated over on the final by a toddler character in an episode bordering on exploitative – it comes near endorsing the bleaker standpoint. Evening of the Hunted might fall a bit in need of ethical substance, however it actually holds us in its grip.
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