I'm not in accord with the high-star reviews presented here, but neither am I with the one-star reviews. Yes, _M. O. M._ is a less-than-average movie that continues to torture the tired found-footage cliché. It would have been better as a straight film without the hackneyed gimmick, but the real problem is that this movie has been made before, just immensely better. For the tormented mom/psycho son theme done right, see Lynne Ramsay's WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT KEVIN (Tilda Swinton, Ezra Miller).
The crux of the problem with _M. O. M._ is, with a storyline so reminiscent of KEVIN, one can't help comparing it to the better film, and by comparison, it fares extremely poorly. Were it not a nearly direct ripoff, I might have cut it a little more slack, but Melinda Page Hamil is no Swinton and Bailey Edwards is no Miller, so they can't pull off the intensity the better actors brought to their respective corresponding roles as mother and son.
Where Swinton laid a convincing veneer of self loathing and intelligence over anxiety, depression, and desperation, Page Hamil is frustratingly obtuse and clumsy, especially in portraying half-witted attempts to outsmart a teenager, which isn't that difficult. Where Miller inhabited psychopathy with a hint of sexual menace that was at once enticing and repellant, Edwards reads as little more than a snotty brat in need of a serious butt whipping. As such, neither of the principals here inspire much sympathy.
Further, this script can't even begin to match the complexity and nuance so apparent in the earlier film. And production values? Forget about it. Not even in the same universe.
All that said, one star is still too uncharitable. This one's marginally watchable, though somewhat less so if you've already seen its classier older cousin. 3.5 stars.
The crux of the problem with _M. O. M._ is, with a storyline so reminiscent of KEVIN, one can't help comparing it to the better film, and by comparison, it fares extremely poorly. Were it not a nearly direct ripoff, I might have cut it a little more slack, but Melinda Page Hamil is no Swinton and Bailey Edwards is no Miller, so they can't pull off the intensity the better actors brought to their respective corresponding roles as mother and son.
Where Swinton laid a convincing veneer of self loathing and intelligence over anxiety, depression, and desperation, Page Hamil is frustratingly obtuse and clumsy, especially in portraying half-witted attempts to outsmart a teenager, which isn't that difficult. Where Miller inhabited psychopathy with a hint of sexual menace that was at once enticing and repellant, Edwards reads as little more than a snotty brat in need of a serious butt whipping. As such, neither of the principals here inspire much sympathy.
Further, this script can't even begin to match the complexity and nuance so apparent in the earlier film. And production values? Forget about it. Not even in the same universe.
All that said, one star is still too uncharitable. This one's marginally watchable, though somewhat less so if you've already seen its classier older cousin. 3.5 stars.