“The Scary of Sixty-First” Review: A Destructive Taboo Thriller That Unearths Jeffrey Epstein’s Conspiracy Theories

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The Scary of Sixty First Review

It needs a lot of bleach and Lysol. The layout is odd, the dead flowers have petals falling on the broken piano. And the bedroom has a creepy mirror on the ceiling. You will take it! I mean, these are relatively spacious and very affordable apartments on New York’s Upper East Side. So you should get a discount. Maybe they have nail prints on the drywall that look like human hands. Its weird tarot cards left here and there, and ancient feathered ham rotting in the fridge scares them:

But they didn’t notice these things until it was too late. Doesn’t that always happen?

Still, Noel (Madeline Quinn) and Adi (Betsy Brown) will do it. You’re not a perfect roommate; Noel is outspoken and uncommitted, and Adi is a bit whiny and needy and has Dorcus’ girlfriend Greg (Mark H. Rapaport), but they’re not quite Felix and Oscar. They don’t even unpack when a woman who remains nameless throughout the film is featured in the credits when The Girl (Nekrosova) rings the doorbell.

It was him investigating Epstein’s crimes and death – he can’t believe he hanged himself in prison, of course – which led him to this apartment, where he claims to have locked up and tortured several of his victims. The girl saw the bloodstains on Noel’s mattress and immediately ran to the bathroom to vomit.

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Noel and the girl quickly became friends. They roam, pick up speed, and destroy Epstein-themed rabbit holes. The girl asks Noel if he heard about Pizzagate, and Noel tells him that Abby “had a lot of mental health issues”. Meanwhile, Abby has a crazy dream and starts acting strangely.

There’s a scene where Noel sees the girl appear to show auto-erotic suffocation excitement, though he’s probably doing some research on what happens when someone tries to hang themselves. And there’s a scene where Abby wakes up in the middle of the night and walks down. The street to the building with all the initials with “JE” in marble and has an orgasm right there. “Mental problems”? Or some demonic possession? Who can say that?

Sorry but this is a mess.

It’s easy to marvel at the slight semblance of artistic intent we draw from the taboo-breaking Nekrasova film, but it’s much harder to appreciate The Terrible Sixty-First for what it is. Gloomy tone, but that’s about it. The overall aesthetic is a no-budget indie, which feels more amateurish than inspired.

The cinematography is very claustrophobic and confusing, not because it creates a psychedelic experience; On the other hand, we never feel a good atmosphere in the apartment, which is a critical element of the decor more plot there is, the more the cameras roll.

The script is a signed and waving suggestion and provocation octopus that we try to catch with our bare hands. Nekrasova is not afraid of bodily fluids, which some find offensive. The acting and dialogue are rough, and the character is more likely to be assigned to an insensitive and curious person than a complex person.

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One has to read the interview with the director to know that Adi’s insane behaviour isn’t a continuation of his vaguely stated “mental health issues” – a phrase used as a sort of anti-computer joke – but a direct result of moving around in a goddamn apartment.

And the third act develops into a wild, blood-soaked climax that is utterly inconsistent. What’s the point of all this? Stuff with Epstein paedophilia, anxious psychos*xual arguments, random bits of occult food, conspiracy theory considerations? I have no idea.

The Scary of Sixty and First is an unfinished thriller that seems to have something to say but never comes together in anything clear and meaningful.

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