Imagine a 90s sex murder thriller with Matt Dillon if Matt Dillon never got near the thing and the manic-pixie-nightmare leading lady was treated with a psychological insight and a twisted sympathy that creeps into you and stays to unsettle you for a week. It's hilarious, and shocking. It's set in sharehouses you're sure you've been to a party at, that life drawing class you took in 2015, and features that play your housemate's girlfriend was in that you couldn't escape, and then never wanted to end. The settings are idiosyncratic, familiar, yet you have not seen anything this original in a long time.
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