Some people are just meant to be together — even after they're dead. That's the premise of writer-director Benedek Fliegauf's Womb, a movie whose slender narrative is little more than that premise, yet whose themes prove bigger than the story.
Love between the living and the undead is all the rage in Hollywood movies, but Womb is no Twilight. Shot in Germany by a Hungarian with an English-speaking cast, the movie is more akin to 2004's Birth.
Early on in Intruders, a preteen girl (Ella Purnell) finds a half-written monster story wedged inside a tree. Reading it aloud to her classmates, she ensnares their attention with the tale's moody detail, but trails off at the end of the page, unable to think of where to go with the idea on her own.
Alma has a strong imagination — so strong that there are times during Turn Me On, Dammit!, the narrative feature debut from Norwegian director Jannicke Systad Jacobsen, where that imagination threatens to consume the film.
But then fantasy and reality are given equal footing here, so that it's initially difficult to tell, in many scenes, where one begins and the other ends. The fact that Alma allows her rich interior life to spill over into reality often has mortifying results: She's only 15, and her daydreams revolve exclusively around the carnal.
Until his early 20s, the only life Shin Dong-hyuk had ever known was one of constant beatings, near starvation and snitching on others to survive. Born into one of the worst of North Korea's system of prison camps, Shin was doomed to a life of hard labor and an early death. Notions of love and family were meaningless: He saw his mother as a competitor for food.