‘Paradise Hills’ Review: An Acid Trip of a Feminist Fairy Tale With Nothing New to Say

‘Paradise Hills’ Review: An Acid Trip of a Feminist Fairy Tale With Nothing New to Say
The world that Alice Waddington dreams up for her feature directorial debut, “Paradise Hills,” is really not so different from the world many people live in today — stratified classes, women only defined in relation to their husbands, a premium on appearance over substance — but Waddington attempts to pull those cultural and societal wounds into a fresh perspective. A feminist fairy tale with a generous sprinkling of “Alice in Wonderland” imagery and enough crinoline to outfit an entire cotillion, “Paradise Hills” soon gives itself over to the most obvious of questions and answers, unearthing nothing new in the process. Are people bound by their social class? Yes. Are women still treated like second class citizens? Often. Are people obsessed with how things look? Obviously. So, what’s left? Waddington doesn’t bother looking.

The film opens at a fittingly lush, fanciful, and entirely strange wedding, where a nearly unrecognizable Emma Roberts
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