"Braid," a cinematic concoction brewed by the debutant director Mitzi Peirone, unfolds like a psychologically intricate dance, one where steps are seemingly misaligned, and rhythms intertwine in perplexing unison. It's a vivid, harrowing ride into the minds of three women, submerged in their daunting pasts and shadowed present.
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At the film's inception, we are thrust into a morose ballet, a snapshot of our trio burying a body in the quiet murmurs of the forest. This sight is but a prelude to a dissonant symphony of fleeing, debts, and old, whispering walls. Petula Thames and Tilda Darlings are in a dangerous dance, dodging law and a looming $85,000 debt.
Seeking sanctuary, they find themselves in the haunted embrace of a mansion owned by Daphne Peters, a recluse trapped in her world of shadows and silence. Here, under the scrutinizing gaze of concealed secrets, the duo indulges in a twisted game of their childhood, a game bound by rules etched in stone. "No One Leaves," "No Outsiders Allowed," echo the binding chains of their play.
It’s a waltz of shadows; Daphne, the overarching "Mother," Tilda, the compliant "Child," and Petula, the transient "Doctor." Their dance is a facade, a playful masquerade, disguising their clandestine quest to unearth Daphne’s treasures hidden within the mansion’s whispering walls. And as they dance in the shadows, a detective, Siegel, snakes around, drenched in suspicions and shadows.
Daphne’s antics paint a comically disturbing canvas, echoing someone shackled within her sanctum, laughing at unseen jesters and carving away at life with her scissors. It feels like watching a darkly comical dance, framed within Hitchcockian echoes, where every step is a whisper of hidden truths and unseen scars.
In this twisted dance, characters don't charm or enrapture; they are the uninvited guests, the uncanny entities lurking in the shadows. "Braid" is a realm where our heroes are the shadows, the echoes of torment and psychological whirlwinds, draped in a rebellious, punk-rock aesthetic. It's a journey that traverses through gaslighting, adult’s child’s play, and unrelenting torment, and it is absurdly fascinating.
Peirone's film is a peculiar blend, a concoction that marries "Heavenly Creatures" with "Spring Breakers," sprinkled with echoes of "Rebel Without a Cause." It's an undeniably individual concoction, an anarchic charm dancing in its personal rhythm, reflective of a vision untamed and raw. It's not the magnum opus of cinema, but it's a dance orchestrated by promising talents.
"Braid" dances in abstract realms, not seeking realism but instead, intertwining in the ethereal, abstract emotional logic of dreams. It’s a dance so vivid, it feels like delving into someone else’s dream through a surreptitious tap. Here, in this chaotic dance, the film finds its allure, in its seeming congruity of its disparate parts.
However, Peirone’s creations are more whispers than screams, mere shadows than defined entities. Their emotional journey is a relentless storm, a tempest that rarely calms, painting them more like fleeting illusions than tangible beings.
To encapsulate, "Braid" is like a symphony with erratic tones and clashing tempos, a portrait of vibrant, conflicting hues blending in chaotic harmony. It’s not an emotional cascade, but rather a chaotic serenade that intrigues and bewilders. It's an unorthodox spectacle, a chaotic tapestry woven by emerging maestros, presenting a peculiar beauty in its entropic elegance.