The stark intensity and confining rigor of the near (and sometimes legitimate) black & white near framed desperation sets a tone. The whole film is certainly more an ambience than plot driven piece. But it is the breaking of barriers of art & reality that provide the most intrigue. The blend of the reality of the filmmakers grandmother, her experiences, and the fiction of the film leave an eerie & alluring aura.
The plot is sparse and murky, hidden in the diegetic shadows. It pops up in fascinating and engaging moments, be they obscured moments of possible reality, creepy bumps in the night, or those unique times of visual interest. But much of the totality is squinting in the dark, untethered to tangible motivations & matriculations. The mood and method are there, and even the malevolence (shared mental health delusions in the family, isolation, brain deterioration) but the collective lacks motility. I loved the feel but not the fruit.