replace review

What’s intriguing about Norbert Keil’s Replace isn’t just the Richard Stanley co-writing credit. It’s more than the “Barbara Crampton Effect.” Sinful style hypnotizes like a tractor beam that entraps voyeuristic eyes, like someone spliced the cinematic DNA of Nicolas Winding Refn and Vincenzo Natali. Vanity becomes an obsession that leads to sci-fi experimentation, not to downplay the Cronenbergian body horror elements at play. Music pulsates, skin is flayed, beautification is achieved through vile means. Yes, motivations stink of The Neon Demon. But there’s more than shallow LA scuzziness here, evocative of man’s inherent fear of deteriorating with age.

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