You know, I’ve put off writing this review for a while because I had nothing wittier to say than, “I wish I could beat up every single person in this movie.” But seriously, a few months and another watch later and I still feel the same way. Nothing upset me, nothing moved me, I just felt like my life was slowly slipping away when I could have been watching something, anything else better than this.

Maybe it’s because this movie is based on the ancient Greek tragedy Iphigenia at Aulis by Euripides and isn’t a movie where Bobby Rhodes turns into a demon at a cinema, but I could see what director Yorgos Lanthimos was doing in every frame, just like the last movie of his that I struggled through, The Lobster.

I am not made for this. I am made for screaming at Jess Franco movies, for knowing all the strange dialogue to Fulci films, for crying during Mario Bava homicides.

Colin Farrell plays a surgeon who screwed up and Nicole Kidman plays yet another wife who has a husband that she pretty much hates, a role that she seems to do in everything I see her in. She also pretends to be under anesthesia while she makes love to her husband in a car and then jerks off an anesthesiologist, so I have no idea what this movie has to say about putting people under other than it’s really hot.

Barry Keoghan is the weird kid that screws up the whole family and gets them to stop eating. He’s a laugh riot, in the way that I guffawed that anyone took any of this remotely seriously.

Reviews like this are why I’ll never make it out of the genre gutter and get to be part of Rotten Tomatoes. Their logo sucks anyway and makes me angrier when I see it on a blu ray cover than when I see the Troma logo and Lloyd Kaufman’s stupid face before my copy of Fulci’s Warriors of the Year 2072.