Not assured, but self-assured. Paul Wright makes generous use of derivative methods of filmmaking in crafting something obviously intended to feel fresh, original and critical. Alas, it is the bare bones of the material with which he works that possess the strongest grip on our empathy, in committed performances and a compelling scenario. Fuelling For Those in Peril is its preoccupation with justness, and in its honest depiction of the nature of community, the outrage which can be provoked in the viewer. This is founded in developing a bond between us and Adam, the film's troubled, grieving lead; would that Wright had devoted more attention to seeing such lines through, and engender the biting attack on this fearful, and quickly hateful community, so close a relative to many in real life, that it deserves. Wright internalises the film's narrative perspective instead, suggesting ever more that the paranoia in Adam's head is a long-dormant issue merely teased out by recent, tragic events, which is incisive. Though his strain to permeate every stylistic element of his film with trendy ticks and modernities (only modern in their brazenness and obviousness) makes much of it feel like an art experiment. He's too insistent with his foley design and the overly diverse styles of cinematography that their effect is consciously noticed before it can be subconsciously felt, and you instead feel Wright's hand manipulating your mind. There's a lack of showiness in cast performances, one that implies their awareness of For Those in Peril's limited commercial potential, and each actor brings an integrity to their role that helps make this distinctive environment feel as palpable as possible. Wright comes up with two memorable endings, both of which are equally audacious and ridiculous - each alone would have had immeasurably more impact, but combined they contradict one another psychologically, and only contribute to the feeling that Paul Wright is trying much too hard.
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