"Just try to get rid of Greta," she taunts. "Just watch me," we say on our way out of the theater.
In what was sure to be a fabulous resurgence of the psycho-biddy subgenre, Greta promised lots of things. Or at least its marketing campaign did. It promised a horror-comedy like we haven't seen in a while, a full-on camp spectacle with enough ick and eek to entertain for at least a couple hours. Unfortunately, the only thing that delivered on these promises was its trailer.
Isabelle Huppert gives a solid but totally misdirected performance as Greta, the crazed woman who leaves purses on trains around New York City, waiting for a kind soul to return one to her. That soul is Frances, played by Chloe Grace Moretz, whose utterly lifeless delivery makes you want terrible things to happen to her. Of course, it doesn't take long for their burgeoning friendship to get creepy as hell, and when it does you're already angry at Frances for being so incredibly stupid. Nobody does the smart thing here except Greta, and even she makes a few silly mistakes.
The problems here are manifold, but can be largely credited to writer/director Neil Jordan. In trying to make a bonkers thriller into a psychological horror-drama, he fails in crafting a fresh tone or even in having fun with the proceedings. Gruesome as the film occasionally can be, everything -- apart from Huppert's occasionally knowing extravagance -- is played straight and grounded, taken far too seriously for its own good. As a result, we aren't allowed to have any fun shuddering at the creepy old woman or giggling as people get abducted, tortured, and murdered. Instead, we try to keep up with the bizarre behaviors of everyone involved and waste time trying to understand why they're all so opaque.
And why on earth did they waste Colm Feore's talent like this? It's just criminal.
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