Tag Archives: adaptation

A CIA Plan is Being Sidelined by EVIL’s Rooftop Terrace Sniping! “Goodbye & Amen” reviewed! (Radiance Films / Blu-ray)

Posted by Steven Lewis on

Own a Copy of “Goodbye & Amen” from Radiance Films. Click here to Purchase.

Ambitiously confident CIA agent John Dannahay eagerly wants to begin his plan for an African nation coup.  Based in Italy, Dannahay runs through his team the stage of events when suddenly a current administrative African agent, known for sniffing and snuffing out power-overthrowing schemes, suddenly arrives in town, Dannahay’s friend Harry Lambert up-and-leaves his wife and child and takes a rifle with him, and a gunman, supposedly Lambert, is at the top of a hotel terrace sniping down pedestrians.  Whatever surgical strike Dannahay had plan is now in jeopardy as a hostage situation occurs in one of the hotel rooms and agent Dannahay and Italian inspector Moreno must piece together why a longtime compliant and clean nosed American embassy worker has suddenly gone murderously berserk.  A public stir amidst a shrewd madman with a high-powered rifle creates a confounding panic of national security and for fear of what will happen next in the moment of mayhem.

Italian filmmaker Damiano Damiani, known for his crime thrillers, such as “Mafia” and “Confessions of a Police Captain,” and his small footprint in horror with the sequel “Amityville II:  The Possession,” had cowrite and directed an intense espionage thriller outside the confines of actual cloak-and-dagger activities with a multi-national cast.  The 1977 film titled “Goodbye & Amen”  is first and foremost an Italian production, cowritten by Damiani alongside “Wanted:  Babysitter” screenwriter Nicola Badalucco and is based off the novel “The Grosvenor Square Goodbye” by British writer Francis Clifford.   The gripping story draws upon multi-layered themes and twists to keep the narratively recycling on fresh and to never become stale with its intriguing mystery and taut tension, shot right in the heart of Rome, Italy at the Cavalieri Waldorf Astoria hotel.  “Goodbye & Amen” is a product of Capital Film and Rizzoli Film and produced by the profound producer Mario Cecchi Gori of Michele Soavi’s “The Sect” and Dino Risi’s “The Tiger and the Pussycat.”

Italians.  Americans.  British.  “Goodbye & Amen” has an all-star international cast that lines up and knocks down the perfectly scripted and beguilingly complex roles that warrant nothing less than the utmost praise for their personal performances. What starts off as a CIA caper to overthrow an African nation regime pivots acutely into a hostage standoff with many unanswered questions pelting down almost simultaneously in mass confusion and uproar in what translates to a very relatable, real moment.  Introductions begin with the CIA’s operational leader John Dannahay (Tony Musante, “The Bird with the Crystal Plumage”) spearheading the preparation meeting when suddenly his operational plans become under jeopardy.  Musante’s strongheaded approach to not lose control of the situation is fierce against the challenge his character faces – a lone gunman, a man Dannahay calls a friend played by “Tenebrae’s” John Steiner, holding hostage an actor (Gianrico Tondinelli, “Enter the Devil”) and his illicit mistress (Claudia Cardinale, “8 ½”).  Steiner delivers a sophisticated, twangy-accented killer hellbent on making a statement with a M1 Carbine rifle and a thought-out plan being a step ahead of Dannahay and Italian Inspector Moreno (Fabrizio Jovine, “The Psycho”).  The dynamic between Dannahay and Moreno, in my opinion, is rather lite for a fast and loose Dannahay and a by-the-book Moreno being two stags vying over how to handle an American mess on Italian land.  Other supporting characters add their creative two cents to “Goodbye & Amen’s” already swelling storyline with great additional principals from Renzo Palmer (“The Eroticist”), Wolfango Soldati (“The House at the Edge of the Lake”), John Forsythe (“Scrooged”), and Anna Zinnemann (“My Sister of Ursula”) that fillet down the mystery to reveal its coldblooded nature.

Not lately have I’ve impressed with a crime thriller and said to myself, wow, that was really engaging and unexpectedly good.  With confidence, “Goodbye and Amen” hit that satisfying note, a note thought to have strayed into an obscure black void never to be seen again, but the story coupled by Damiani perceptive big-world direction and some great camera work and angles by cinematographer Luigi Kuveiller, that shimmers hints of Kuveiller’s work on previous films like “Deep Red” and “A Lizard in a Woman’s Skin,” and “Goodbye and Amen” is one of the better Italian crime thrillers to come out of the country that isn’t in the giallo subgenre.  Incorporating wide shots with depth and a seriously oversaturation of characters and extras, plus not to forget to mention helicopters and shoot outs, create the illusion of a bigger film without manufacturing too many atmospherics to hoist suspense.  Plenty of red herrings and blunt force action, peppered with bare flesh sensuality, and heedful acting provides the film with an incredibly firm bite that sinks its teeth in and never releases.  Compelling and always one step ahead, “Goodbye & Amen’s” layers of excitement keep viewers simultaneously abreast and in the dark and with the seesaw suspense, which never falters with an overly opaque complex ingenuity, there’s a pleasant rollercoaster effective of up and downs between penetrating thrills and just enough down to Earth exposition in order to catch one’s breath.   

In a new limited edition Blu-ray release from UK distributor Radiance Films on their North American lineup, “Goodbye & Amen” receives a 2023 2K restoration scan from the original camera 35mm negative and presented on an AVC encoded, high-definition 1080p, BD50 in an anamorphic 1.85:1 aspect ratio. Certainly, a smooth image with no enhancement fluff or over-corrective, off-tilted coloring, the restoration brings out the best parts of Damniano Damiani’s natural approach with key lighting supporting exteriors and some intensely lit interiors without a smidgen of banding or posterization to complicate it. Details are razor sharp and the hue saturation is full-bodied and deep even along the line of a sunny Italian coastline where contours are a nice edge drop-off and shape. The English version has three exclusive shots pulled and scanned from the 16 reversal elements that create a slight grain difference that manages to nearly go unnoticed. Audio options come with the original Italian DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 mono and, for the first time on home video, the English export in a DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0 mono. The English export’s audio track does come with a proclaimed statement right on the main menu about its unresolved damage. Like being pushed through a filter of interference, the English track is intelligible if not entirely clear and free from static and squelch. The Italian track offers a cleaner ordonnance albeit a few in-and-out moments of faint distortion of unrestorable audio ribbon snippets. New and approved English subtitles on both lossless, uncompressed tracks help alleviate some of the technical pain audio aficionados may suffer but, in my honest opinion, the Italian meets the bar whereas the English is under the bar by just a few clicks. Radiance’s special features include a new audio commentary track by Eurocrime experts Nathaniel Thompson and Howard S. Berger, a new interview with editor Antonio Siciliano, and an archival interview with actor Wolfango Soldati. Both interviews are in Italian with burned in English subtitles. Radiance’s physical approach to their releases is highly unique in format by using obscure poster elements, and sometimes often new illustrated art and compositions, to exact a striking front cover image. With “Goodbye & Amen,” the rendition of Italian’s finest in their version of S.W.A.T. body armor within the sites of a crosshair is clever and engaging to know more. The reverse cover offers more of the common language poster art. A 19-page color booklet, that contents the cast and crew information, transfer notes and credits, and a new essay from Lucio Rinaldi entitled “The American Connection: Damiano Damiani’s Goodbye & Amen,” accompanies a reserved blue background and yellow font disc art that befits Radiance’s retro-classy style. Being a UK distributor releasing in the North American market lends the title to have a region A and B playback for two varied runtimes, for the Italian and English version tracks, of 110 (Italian) and 102 (English) minutes. Radiance’s 38th release is also not rated.

Last Rites: “Goodbye & Amen” is a collaborative triumph, an arresting story anchored by monolithic performances, and imparted by director Daminano Damiani with attention, detail, and substance that makes the film a pillar amongst the Eurocrime narrative.

Own a Copy of “Goodbye & Amen” from Radiance Films. Click here to Purchase.

Hear That? That’s EVIL Bamboolzing You! “Ultrasound” reviewed! (Magnet Releasing / Digital Screener)

Posted by Steven Lewis on



Driving home from a wedding reception, Glenn’s car suffers a flat tire in the pouring rain.  He finds refuge in the home of married couple, Art and Cyndi, with an extended offer to him to wait out the rain and spend the night, spending the night in bed with Cyndi at the pleading request of Art.    The next morning, Glenn wakes up and Art and Cyndi are gone.  Months later, Art shows up at Glenn’s apartment and shows him a videotape of a pregnant Cyndi.  Unable to make sense how of his role within Art and Cyndi’s lives, Glenn agrees to meet with Cyndi to discuss future plans and wind up a romantic relationship, but when they suddenly wake up in a hospital and kept separated, they believe they lost the baby as well as the use of Glenn’s legs due to an assumed accident.  What unfolds for the couple from then on is bizarre reality that doesn’t make much sense with only a few familiar chords being struck in their mind and every step of their life is being controlled by manipulators with various agendas. 

A gyrating wool over the eyes suspense thriller is set to release this Friday, March 11th. That film is “Ultrasound,” the first feature film helmed by Rob Schroeder, the producer of “Sun Choke” and “Beyond the Gates,” both films starring Barbara Crampton.  Unfortunately, “Ultrasound” doesn’t star the iconic scream queen but the Conor Stechschulte script, based off the Stechschute’s erotic psychological graphic novel series, “Generous Bosom,” produces the high intense frequencies from off the illustrated pages and into the subjected characters and audiences with disorienting loops of truths and falsities.  The U.S. production is a product of the Los Angeles based Lodger Films, cofounded by Schroeder and Georg Kallert, and with co-producers Brock Bodell and Spencer Jazewski.

“Ultrasound’s” narrative is a latticework of character arcs divided into two stories that only merge when Glenn and Cyndi are involved in an unusual (some could say almost magical) scheme connived by hypnotist The Amazing Art, played with sure hand nervousness by Bob Stephenson (“Lady Bird”) whose very good at the soft touch of persuasion with his innocent demeanor.  Stephenson works tirelessly his Jedi mind tricks on Glenn, “My Friend Dahmer’s” Vincent Kartheiser, and Cyndi, “Phoenix Forgotten’s” Chelsea Lopez. Kartheiser and Lopez relish in their own deceptions as two strangers being joined by unintended, radical means to fulfill not one but two devious plans. Between political scandal coverups and government sanctioned alternative military tactics, Chris Gartin (“Tremors II: Aftershocks”) and Tunde Adebimpe (“She Dies Tomorrow”) couldn’t be any more different in character engrained into their repelling tangential tales sourced from the same spoiled spring but both actors root deep into the same antithesis garden as a pair of well-informed and completely in control power hungry and idealistic men in idol roles, driving Schroeder’s message right into the heart of public figure facade versus public figure character and both Gartin and Adebimpe nurture that perspective all too well. Then, you throw in a monkey wrench named Breeda Wool (“Mr. Mercedes“) into the well-oiled machine of exploitation to be the controlled outlier only to have the veil lifted for truth. Wool, probably not intendedly punned toward “Ultrasound’s” theme of pulling the wool over one’s eyes or a wolf in sheep’s clothing, casts rightful doubt as Shannon, an innocent associate being kept in the dark, much like Cyndi and Glenn. While the cast is great in roles, none of them stand out in a singular performance and are all a cog in Schroeder’s contrivance. “Ultrasound’s” cast fills in with Megan Fox lookalike Rainey Qualley (“Shut In”), Porter Duong, and Mark Burnham who dons the fleshy mask of Leatherface in this year’s Netflix original and legacy sequel “Texas Chainsaw Massacre.”

Tapping from the same virtual reality vein of Christopher Nolan and David Cronenberg, the idiosyncrasies of perception are no longer our own as audio, visual, and thoughts become the duped fool in “Ultrasound’s” underhanded exploitation.  The concept, high in twist and turns working backwards to unfold what befuddles the hapless into a life believed depressingly real, parallelly touches upon the real-life issue of sleight of hand corruption and scandal.  Because this person is an upstanding politician with a beautiful family or this other person has an advanced medical degree and is respected in the science community, we are supposed to take them at their word when in actuality, they’re pulling the metaphorical rug from under our sensorial feet to the extreme point where everything they have said and done that has crumbled down to a lie has a flummoxing and deafening aftershock effect that almost can’t be believed.  The two-tale narrative connects with Art and his mismanaging of one plan that tosses his subjects into the hands of another group for what’s to become of Glenn and Cyndi and that transfer, much like the disintegrating hypnosis effect at times, is not tight enough and becomes lost in translation inside Schroeder’s illusive imagery and harsh editing to keep in story in line until a point.  “Ultrasound” plagues with hot, intense colors under a low-key lighting, like a deep blue or an intense red, to often relay reality outside the confines of normality.  Even though the word “Ultrasound” revolves around the manipulative use of ultrasonic frequencies, I do find the irony in Stechschulte’s story that at the center of much of the tumultuous misperception, there’s a baby often represented as there or not there depending on how we should perceive the characters and it’s like the filmmakers wanted to plug in, perhaps, the nuisances with scanning technology or dip their toes into body horror with body image.

“Ultrasound” is a great low-level, high-tech Sci-fi brainteaser ready to mess with your mind being released this Friday, March 11th, in theaters and on demand from Magnet Releasing, a subsidiary label of Magnolia Pictures that offers innovative tales of horror and science fiction from new, creative filmmaking talent.  Since a digital screener was provided, we will not delve into any audio or video evaluations, but Mathew Rudenberg, whose worked in the past with Schroeder as DP on “Sun Choke,” has come a long way since his image work on the 2008 alien-driven-zombie film “Evilution” with keeping the frame tight during medium and closeup shots to never expose to much at one time, leaving a little to imagination when the time comes to open up the room, so to speak.  Zak Engel’s analogue and digital synth-score with tangible instrumental highlights from Piano and violin and Bob Borito’s dial and knob sound design swishing static and low-frequency humming sends this soundtrack into a futuristic guise on contemporary grounds that insidiously works into the grand scheme low-tech yet terrifying Sci-Fi. The 103-minute film does not include any bonus scenes during or after the credits. I keep throwing around key descriptors like low-tech for “Ultrasound” and by no means do mean that as a criticism as I speak about the simplest of tech, the original mechanism, of our body and our sensory nodes that receives data input, processes it, and transmits signals to our outputting areas and “Ultrasound” looks at disrupting the supply of data and, just like in today’s pandemic and war climate, a break in the chain can cause unforeseen turmoil that upends lives when cranked up.

Furbish the Four Walls EVIL Lives Inside of Your Brain with “The Yellow Wallpaper!” (Hysteria Pictures / Digital Screener)

Posted by Steven Lewis on

A prominent physician escorts his wife, Jane, and newborn child to a secluded countryside home after a severe episode of hysteria rattles Jane’s mental state.  For three months in the Summer, Jane is confined to the house grounds with strict instructions to do nothing to exert herself other than to partake in a little gardening.  Even writing, which was profusely Jane’s pursuit, is harshly forbidden.  The bedroom she shares with her husband is nearly unadorned with only their bed in the middle of the room and yellow wallpaper ornamenting all four walls.  As the weeks pass in isolation, Jane can’t escape the feeling the yellow wallpaper is creeping into her mind, imprisoning her, and driving her mad, lending her relaxing retreat from societal nervousness be laid to waste in solitude. 

Charlotte Perkins Gillman’s short story, “The Yellow Wallpaper,” has seen a fair share of filmic adaptations in over a span of a century since being published back in 1892, but all of those variated works have been grounded in the last four decades .  Amongst the numerous shorts and a handful of features, the most notable version of “The Yellow Wallpaper” would be Logan Thomas’ 2012 interpretation, starring Juliet Landau, daughter of the late Martin Landau.  That’s the funny thing about public domain property is it opens up a plethora of pathways to spin and redefine creativity to rework Gillman’s feminist tale from the artists’ voices speaking of the times when women’s mental health, and mental health in general, was perceived naively as anxiety.  Kevin Pontuti steps up to the plate to take a crack at the spiraling to madness story as the filmmaker’s inaugural feature directorial of the American and Ireland co-produced celluloid from an adapted screenplay written by the director and co-written with the story lead actress and producer, Alexandra Loreth.  Under the duo’s entertainment banner, Hysteria Pictures in association with Ireland’s Emerald Giant Productions, the crowdfunded “The Yellow Wallpaper” project receives the latest contemporary treatment that brings Gillman’s words back to the screen.

Co-writer and producer, Alexandra Loreth, takes the lead as Jane coming down off the ledge of a nervous breakdown but still ballooning with instability that’s stretching her fashioned societal-front seams. “The Yellow Wallpaper” is also the California based filmmaker’s first feature film alongside Pontuti, basically penning Jane’s entire mindset of combating the time’s unfamiliar sexisms and mental health. Loreth crawls on her hands and knees, feign glossy, far away eyes, and be cold and distant to be in tune to a woman disassociating with herself and reality and, truth be told, portrays a convincible case that shows feature debut courage with on screen nudity and a stamina for being the focus for the entire 99 minute runtime; however these acts remain stuck in a excessive loop that roots Loreth’s character decline to one a taciturn setting, lacking range and depth to carry Jane into full metal straightjacket crazy. Opposite Loreth is Irish actor Joe Mullins as John, the physician, the only character mentioned in Gillman’s short story. Mullins impels like an automaton through the role with not a lick of zestful misogyny to contrast against. Loreth completely dominates the screen as you barely notice Mullins whisk in and out of scenes to medicate Jane or comfort her with little white lies. John’s dismissive attributes were more dispassionate with Mullins behind the wheel that leaves only half the work’s presence omitted and it’s sorely felt. In the role of Jane’s domicile caregiver, Jeanne O’Connor paves a road of sturdy era authenticity that also is fleeting from “The Yellow Wallpaper” and with her 19th century genteel aesthetics, we’re sucked into the period to keep us grounded in time. Performances round out with Clara Harte as the abstruse infant caregiver and Mark P. O’Connor briefly standing in as Jane’s doctor brother.

Pontuti and Loreth’s “The Yellow Wallpaper” targets the very essence of Gillman’s journal narrated themes of the downplayed and untapped mental health and the secondary expectations of women in 19th century society.  The differences between the 1800’s paper and 2021’s movie narratives are ever so slightly tweaked into the contemporary medium with Loreth narrating right from Gillman’s pages word-for-word in between the auxiliary scripted dialogue and the finale concluding toward a more grim avenue that will surely satisfy the more macabre of hearts.  Yet, not enough material could be extracted from the short story to entice as entertainment as the adaptation lingers in monotone fashion. Jane carries on about the woman trapped behind the yellow wallpaper and is shown going in circles of staring at the wallpaper, crawling on her hands and knees on the estate grounds (as describe in the short story), and just being listless throughout the entirety with her mental issues linked to post-partum and drowning in passive despair.  Perhaps better suited for a short film, as many have been completed already, audiences will become tiresomely and frustratedly lost in all of Jane’s 99-minutes of tedium as there just isn’t enough to sate a feature length film unless you add embellishing bells and whistles in the realm of supernatural or the puppeteering of an unseen force symbolizing Jane’s fractured mindset. Don’t expect “The Yellow Wallpaper” to paint a gripping tale of feministic horror as the story peels off in a superannuated ream of soapbox issues.

“The Yellow Wallpaper” made its world premier this past March at Cinequest in San Jose, California. The film is shot in a modernly unconventional 4:3 pillarbox aspect ratio aka the black bars on each side of the near square image presentation. The intention by cinematographer Sonja Tsypin (“Scare Package”) was to meet the age of Gillman’s original. Yes, I know in 1892, video wasn’t exactly a thing, let alone pillarboxed formats, but aspect ratio does point the a modern adaptation into the right blast from the past direction. What is also curious about Tsypin’s photography, and I’m not positive if this is in fact intentional or not, is the lesser frame rate that induces jumps in the picture in an almost lag effect that doesn’t add much but of annoyance to the viewing pleasure. I was slightly more impressed with Robert J. Coburns score fathomed the depth of disturbance going through Jane’s head and lured out the creepy that played like a broken-melody music box. There were no bonus scenes during or after the credits. Even with a well established and powerful ending shot, a preserving memento of the patriarchy’s ill-conceived mansplaining of a woman’s mind and body, and an intrepid performance by Alexandra Loreth, “The Yellow Wallpaper” stagnates in faithfulness to Gillman’s short and doesn’t offer new and improved ideas of century old, feminist gothic literature.

Oscar Wilde’s Not-So-Evil…”The Canterville Ghost” review!

Posted by Steven Lewis on


An ambitious physics professor Hiram Otis obtains a research grant that requires him to study in England, pulling his wife, daughter, and two young boys from their Indiana home into a strange new world. In an age of obsolete aristocracy, the Otis family is able to afford rent at the grand Canterville Hall, a legendary castle with an infamous tale of death and suspicion that also might have resulted in being an affordable estate for the American family. Legend records have it that the lord of the castle, Sir Simon de Canterville, had subsequently killed his wife due to his obsessions and became the victim of his wife’s family spiteful vengeance by being chained to a dungeon cell. For 400 years, Sir Simon remained in that cell and his ghost haunts Canterville Hall, but despite their beliefs in the supernatural, the physics professor and his wife can’t see the ghost and only their teenage daughter and two young boys are able to witness him roam the halls, haunting those who live within the castle walls.

Every once and awhile, we’ll thoroughly review a light-hearted fantasy, horror, or sci-fi film and since we’re hot off the heels of the review for Wes Craven’s “Summer of Fear,” the made-for-television train might as well keep chug-chug-chugging alone with the 1996 TV movie adaptation of the Oscar Wilde novella, “The Canterville Ghost.” Distributed by ABC, the Sydney Macartney (as Syd Macartney) directed and Robert Benedetti teleplay written installment tries to differentiate itself and standout amongst a plethora of adaptations that span across the globe, but the American Broadcast Company, a subsidiary of the great and powerful Disney, aimed to separate from the masses by adding star studded power and the result brought a rejuvenation to the ye old tale over two decades ago.

The big name headliner is none other than Captain Jean-Luc Picard himself, Patrick Stewart, two years after his 7-year stint on Star Trek: The Next Generation. Stewart, who co-produced the film, adds his theatrical flair and is absolutely brilliant shaping drama monologues into dense thickets that define Sir Simon de Canterville’s ghost, but there’s an issue; the problem doesn’t lie with Patrick Stewart, but with how Benedetti’s teleplay expos from the story as a continuous, if not slightly jumbled, stream of old English that just feels like rambling. To alleviate that strain is Stewart’s co-star Neve Campbell to add a softer, glassy-eyed touch to the story with a pinch of plain jane American girl insecurities, characterized in Wilde’s story as Virginia Otis. Perhaps in the beginning portion of the height of her career, Campbell finds herself between “Party of Five” and hitting scream queen status as Sydney Prescott in “Scream,” but the “Wild Things” actress wasn’t that sultry or that chased in “The Canterville Ghost” who only took upon an annoyed teenage girl persona, wishing her life was back in America up until the mysterious spirit of Sir Simon de Canterville allured a spark into her dull life. Alongside Stewart and Campbell, Daniel Betts, Ciarán Fitzgerald, Raymond Pickard, Cherie Lunghi, Donald Sinden, Joan Sims, and the late Edward Wiley, who died shortly before the film’s premiere, costar.

Going into “The Canterville Ghost” was nothing short of knowing nothing other than the fact the Patrick Stewart and Neve Campbell were in the lead roles of a Disney backed, family film and to be completely honest, Macartney’s vision completely underwhelms. Along with the verbose nature of the script-to-teleplay alterations, the magical supernatural portions are inarguably cheap, even for television. The simple superimposing of Sir Simon de Canterville offered no stimulation as the the two scenes just didn’t splice together well to seamlessly make the grade. Firecracker explosions and party store cobwebs dilute even thinner the already slim pickings of special effects that top when Virginia Otis crosses over into a dense fogged ghostly realm thats chopped, cropped, and edited with such disorganization, the entire scene feels more lost than Virginia trying to escape the other side back to the living.

Sydney Macartney’s “The Canterville Ghost” is presented for the first time ever on Blu-ray courtesy of the U.K. distributor Second Sight Films. The Blu-ray is presented in the Academy ratio of 1.33:1 with 1080p resolution on a MPEG-4 AVC BD 25. Second Sight’s release will have the best looking version of this film, if the quality is anything like the screener sent to me, with a strong color palette, minor digital noise, and rich in great detail; so detailed in fact that the blemishes on Neve Campbell and Daniel Betts can be seen. The English DTS-HD audio track is lively, but not entirely boastful with more thematic and dramatic elements. Dialogue track is clean and clear and the score by “Dead Heat” and “Tremors” composer Ernest Troost augments his fairy tale rendition into the mix. Bonus material includes new interviews with director Sydney Macartney and producer-writer Robert Benedetti. Second Sight’s presentation of Hallmark Entertainment’s “The Canterville Ghost” has strong Blu-ray technical potential, but despite the big names of that time period and a visually stimulating setting, the fantastic adventure through a cursed ghost’s melodrama and a bored young girl’s tenure of self discovery unfortunately didn’t rivet with excitement or wonder, losing steam with it’s important message that life is more than being in a bubble of stagnant disappointment and guilt.