The Final Girl

This had all the bad qualities of an average, amateur porn effort and only a little bit of limited sex (women using their hands). The rest of the movie is so slow moving, boring and pointless. There's not really a plot, just some junk about a troubled mess of a woman who is only in the movie in confusing flashbacks, but if there is a plot it is never fully executed. It's just a silly, self-consciously artsy attempt to make a "deep" film with a handful of moderately attractive women, one with some decent tattoos (and a couple of real hounds, one with hideous tattoos). What an unbelievably stupid waste of time.

American Director Todd Verow makes a spirited attempt to imitate slow, artsy, musically charged French films, with a touch of an attempt at avant-garde. It is as if he is trying to put everything he learned in film-making school into one movie. The use of black and white, the diving around with the camera, the close ups on rain drops. However, there are some good scenes of Paris and rooftop shots.

It's probably good if you have a remote with fast forward. This movie could easily have been cut down to a third or half of its run time. You can see that Verow is previously more of a specialist in shorts and that shows clearly.

Don't expect much, it's a low budget, amateurish movie, but it is an interesting look into their boring sordid lives and mundane sex lives.

This used to be on netflix and i used to goon to it as a kid while it was on there i randomly like last week went hunting to find this now i can actually read what their saying and not just goon thanks big brain anyways the last part of this is just to fill the space😭🙏

I hurt the Gingerbread Boy, Cause he's pretend-bread boy.

Little cookie man never waved to me, So he got knocked out.

Man, cause I flow.

La Jiggy Jar Jar Doo, Dur Dur Dur Dee Dur.

Man, I just flow.

Shoe Shine, No one wanted your stinking tiara, Cause no one wanted your sticky chair.

And why you always talk about the cool kids who take archery, Yeah, you're a shrinky dink.

You'll get a funeral if you don't wise up and call me Carl Poppa, (Oh, oh-oh, oh) La Jiggy Jar Jar Do, Dur Dur Dur Dee Dur.

Minimal plot, if at that. Parts in color and parts in B&W. At the start, a woman is doing a striptease. And she has colorful tattoos (tats). She goes to a building to rent a room and the woman says the other woman left, and some of her stuff was left behind. When asked if she has the security deposit, she provides an interesting response. More skin, more tats, more breasts and body piercings. And smoking. Lots of smoking, since this film is French. Later she meets another woman, and there is more skin, tats and smoking. We find the woman who left did not use the door, and left behind a diary. And more smoking. It can get boring, since with little dialogue and an attempt to be super artsy, if fails.

The single star is awarded here for the dubious achievement in actually getting this project out of the mind onto the table and to the screen.

I cannot fathom how this film got distribution anywhere but the living rooms of the director's friends. The story is aimless, vacuous and dreary. The episodic 'arty' black-and-white sequences with 'arty' photography and overlaid narration are clichéd, cringe-inducing and pretentious. The characters are singularly unsympathetic, uninteresting and unattractive - intellectually as well as physically, I'm afraid - and the acting abilities are dismal. The sex sequences are empty, random, wholly depressing and lack any sensuality. Simply awful.