Blur

 There's a specific kind of film on the low-budget spectrum I loathe. The sort of movie that's got a reasonably profesional sheen and fuck all else going for it. Movies that don't have a clear reason to exist other than to fill out the further reaches of the streaming service genre lists. I've gotten pretty good at avoiding them over the years - not that the ones I do end up choosing are all winners, not by a long shot... but they will usually at least have something interesting, or at least fail in some interesting way.

 Andrew Miles Broughton's Blur is, sadly, one that got through my filter: a bewildering, boring shrug of a film - one that seems to have been improvised from one scene to the next, not in a good way. And then you read that it was shot over two year's worth of weekends... and yeah, it makes perfect sense.

 It seems like it's off to a good start. Sophie (Abigail Bianca), an attractive academic, is on her way out of Syria (Palmyra is mentioned) after saving some precious relics from fundamentalists with hammers and a lack of respect for ancient history. On her way to the airport, she runs into a (very poorly CGI'd) stretch of ruins, and she snaps a picture of an off-brand Pazuzu statue.

Jaunty little chap, innit? Then he gets pissed off when people take pictures of him. Asshole.

 Back at home, she has a very stilted, awkward conversation with her vapid bestie Jade (Casia Stelmach). By the way, this is the only type of conversation this movie trades in. In any case, off-brand Pazuzu does off-brand Pazuzu things, like popping up in silhouette in the background in Sophie's apartment while she remains unaware. Until it drives her to stab her hand with a knife. Everyone in this movie seems to have an aversion to calling emergency services, so I'm going to chalk it a point for Darwin when Sophie gets Janet Leigh'd soon afterwards, decapitated with a wire trap. OK, it's absolutely ridiculous, but that's the right kind of ridiculous, you know? I can have fun with that sort of thing.

 Except that now Sophie is dead, Jade becomes the lead by default. And that is a problem because Stelmach simply isn't a good actress. Not at the time this was filmed, not in the disjointed way the movie was put together, not with the material she's working from - any one of the last two would be huge hurdles for any actor, I'd think, and neither is a challenge she's even remotely equipped to handle.

 The director seems to recognize this, and tries to make up for it putting her in short skirts and shorter shorts so the camera can shamelessly leer at her (admittedly very nice) legs. So, you know, there is that.

 After proving to be a pretty handy murderous telekinetic bastard, off-brand Pazuzu starts biding his time with piddly horrors - one of his signature moves becomes (I wish I was making this up) setting in motion one of those executive toys - you know, the five balls on a cradle, or putting up a color chart on any available screen. You suck, off-brand Pazuzu.

 There's about half an hour (probably more) of this movie that wastes our time with portentous music playing over either nothing at all or paranormal phenomena so minor I'd have to ask off-brand Pazuzu to hand in his off-brand spook registration card.

 There's a hilariously botched attempt to hint at some trauma and a friendly neighbour (Kiera Rosenburgh) and a policeman (Guy Mandic) are introduced, but nothing sticks. Writer/Director/Producer Andrew Miles Broughton finds some interesting, playful shots which keep the movie from looking completely soul-less despite the flat digital cinematography, but his script is basically plotless, dumb, and it often got me wondering just how it could get basic human behaviour so motherfucking egregiously wrong.

 On its way to a finale that finally amps up the supernatural mayhem to eye-rolling effect, it does stumble upon an instance or two of effective body horror, but seriously - they don't even begin to justify the film's existence.

 Just about nothing works in this movie. Plot points go nowhere (what's the significance of that ancient key the police found in Sophie's stomach?), the humour is unfunny, and the film never picks up any steam once Sophie dies within the first thirty minutes. Avoid, avoid, avoid.