Oddity

 In roman times, a husband would gift their wife a silver wreath on their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, and a golden one at their fiftieth. This custom was kept over time, and in the twentieth century a host of other anniversary milestones were added (yay, capitalism!). The fifth anniversary is called a wooden anniversary, and this is the excuse Danni Timmins (Carolyn Braken, who's excellent in her dual roles) uses to gift her brother-in-law Ted (Gwilym Lee) a horrifying wooden mannequin.

 This is wrong on several levels. One, because the mannequin is a fucked-up wonder, a creepy rendering of a shrivelled mummy with hollow eyes and a mouth frozen in a horrifying scream. Two, because the gift comes one year after Ted's wife and Danni's sister Darcy (Braken, again) was brutally murdered. Not cool, Danni.

 The story in Oddity hinges around the character of Danni, who happens to be both blind and possessed of psychometric powers (she can read objects, like Johnny Smith in The Dead Zone), and how she rudely invades her ex-brother-in-law's life -and that of his new paramour (Caroline Menton)- at their rural cottage in an attempt to find out what really happened to her sister. What part the mannequin plays is not clear until much later.

 It's a high-gothic tale that's happy to throw in ghosts, a dash of paranormal phenomena, and some deliciously heinous sociopathy on top of the initial murder, all laced with a bone-dry sense of black humour. It takes its time carefully laying the infrastructure to support a handful of extremely effective jump-scares and a very satisfying finale. The whodunnit aspects are relatively simple (they have to be, with a cast this size) but the pieces of the puzzle are assembled with such care and imagination that it's still a pleasure to watch them fall into place with grim sense of inevitability.

 Writer/director Damian McCarthy has crafted a nasty, elegant, classically-built box of horrors that's still playful enough to remain unpredictable in its particulars. Meticulously composed at all times, its heavy emphasis on atmosphere (cinematographer: Colm Hogan) beautifully supports the script's rising pitch. And that fucking wooden man, sculpted by Paul McDonnell and a team of six, easily tops the creepy rabbit from McCarthy's previous movie Caveat (which makes a welcome cameo here) both in form and function.
 There's a smattering of gore, ugly enough to jolt, but it's not a particularly bloody film. It is weird, funny, engaging and properly scary, though; It's a shame it didn't receive much of a marketing push, because it should rightly become a classic.