Simran Hans 

The Transfiguration review – drab horror

An unhappy marriage of indie arthouse movie and slasher flick, lacking the conviction of either genre
  
  

Eric Ruffin and Chloe Levine in the The Transfiguration.
Eric Ruffin and Chloe Levine in the The Transfiguration. Photograph: Rex

A friendless, orphaned teenager who lives alone with his ex-army older brother, Milo (Eric Ruffin) likes long walks, vintage horror movies and eating human flesh. He finds a companion in new neighbour Sophie (Chloe Levine), a loner with psoriasis and a tangle of curly hair. The two bond over their dead parents, flaneuring the outskirts of Brooklyn and cosying up in Milo’s apartment to watch graphic YouTube clips of animals being slaughtered. It’s all very cute. These scenes alternate with Milo’s secret kills; moments of gory violence signposted by buzzing, electronic sound design.

With its handheld tracking shots, soft lighting and long stretches of silence, the film mostly positions itself as an indie drama, though it takes great pains to namedrop its bloodsucker references (Martin, Nosferatu, Let the Right One In and even Twilight all receive shout-outs). The effect is thin; less creative genre-smashing than a drab lack of commitment to either its mumblecore or horror sensibilities.

Watch a trailer for The Transfiguration.
 

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