Stephen Saito In a film where no shot lasts beyond a handful of seconds, the world stops briefly to go over the origins of the black goo that gives “Ick” its title.
But in the latest madness from director Joseph Kahn, no one in the small, suburban town of Eastbrook can be sure where it came from, or for how long exactly it’s been around.
It’s actually this lack of interest in deeper introspection that the longtime pop culture provocateur takes on in what he dubbed a “soft rock horror” movie before its debut at the Toronto Film Festival.
With one of cinema’s most malleable metaphors for societal anxieties since such films as “The Blob” and “The Stuff,” he certainly grabs attention.
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