HOARD

An outstanding debut—one that all my senses couldn’t resist but give its own flick. One of the lines that fully captured grief was: “Grief is a never-ending catalogue of love.” This film was so disgusting, yet so liberating, in the sense of removing the barrier between disgust and seeing through all that feels uneasy with the realization that the only way to reach peace, reclaim the self, and fully come to terms with the conjuring past is by walking the path through shame, humiliation, and a lot of times going insane for not understanding everything that happened or is happening and all that is considered concealed to shied away from. Even though the film was conceived not long ago—maybe two or three years ago—it carries the feeling of old British cinema, not just in the mise-en-scène but in every hint of every corner. The grade and camera really does remind you a lot of the melancholic Billy Elliot, mixed with a haunting, almost pornographic art video stories from the ’80s—in such a good way. What a description.