A Neil Jordan film about vampires (but no Stephen Rea). Two women are chased by grunting, glowering, skulking brutes. The women attack all activities with the same brow-furrowed singularity of purpose. This mess is full of logistical infelicities, glowering sulks, muddled exposition and has neither substance nor discernable purpose.
“In celebration of my wickedness.”
Okay sequel to ‘2001’.
Meg Tilly wonders why people are acting crazy.