In quick, efficient slices thereafter, Young shows them lure one of the girls into their car as she walks home alone in the sweltering heat and bring her to their one storey identikit bungalow, where they tie her to a bed, rape and torture her. We’re looking through the predatory eyes of John (Stephen Curry) and Evelyn (Emma Booth), a nondescript couple parked in a nondescript car nearby. It’s a simple and relatively wholesome scene made deeply unsettling, and also perversely beautiful, by the lingering slow motion of their coltish limbs and colliding torsos, and the disturbing realization that the voyeuristic camera has no interest in the girls’ faces.
The film announces its ordinary/creepy dichotomy from the very first shot in which we watch a group of teenage schoolgirls play netball. This is Lynchian perversity shorn of Lynchian glamor surreality that comes not from heightened reality, but from reality lowered till it scrapes along the gutter. Despite the often dreamy slo-mo transitions and the stylish, cleverly framed photography from DP Michael McDermott, lower-middle residential Perth as imagined here is a grubbily prosaic place, and the monsters who call it home are rendered even more monstrous because they are so banal.
#Hounds of love based on serial
Plotting a grimy little story inspired by several infamous real-life cases of serial abduction and murder that occurred in and around Perth in the 1980s, “Hounds of Love,” however, does not describe an idyll where smiling rows of white picket fences conceal grandiose depravities. And on the evidence of his striking, queasy debut, Ben Young is very much a child of Lynch in this regard. It’s a David Lynch world, and we just live in it: for quite some time now, the idea that the conformist keep-to-yourself conservatism of the suburbs can conceal unspeakable depravity is almost well duh.
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