A work of art must have some coherence, even if its gaps and lacunae challenge an auditor. This one is a mess. The girl "inexplicably" becomes attracted to her stalker (as the summary says). He rejects her because he prefers to see her happily washing the dishes. His rival hides out in Chicago with the connivance of his ex-wife (how did they hook up?) and, instead of concocting a clever revenge, the rival just shoots through a window, mortally wounding the young man's neighbor and nicking him. (He later wanders through the hospital, untreated in his blood-stained shirt). The stalkee "inexplicably" commits a ritual suicide (why? -- she doesn't really say). Then the shooter is released (!), albeit when his deadbeat father "inexplicably" pulls in the local power structure. The ex-wife begs for the ex-husband to exculpate her. How could he, even if he wanted to? Styles must have been really puzzled by her character, who is, finally, just plain nuts. But "inexplicably" -- there's no basis for her bizarre behavior. I would not wish this flick on anyone. The final sequence is macabre and unbelievable and, don't worry, the film has no ending. It just stops. But an hour and a half too late. Fantasy demands that we accept the rule of the world the writer creates. Live drama demands that we suspend our disbelief. This one asks that we keep believing in things that both could not happen and cannot be believed when they do.
Review of The Cry of the Owl
