First, they came for the writers, but I could not read.
Then, they came for the artists, but I could not see.
When they came for the musicians, I was unwilling to hear.
Eventually they came for me, but I could no longer think.
Other Mommy and other therapy films, a review of sorts…
There has been a run of successful independent horror films which break the torture porn and slasher model. They are not creature features or monster romps. Instead, there is a dimension of neurotic therapy entwined into the story. It’s said, ‘write what you know.’...
