Once again I find myself asking when will there be a film about a tucked away, secretive cult led by a shady messianic control freak where they all turn out to be pleasant happy folk and quietly get on with their lives?
Aah well, this one is about an Australian group of loonsacks following some guy, probably called Bruce of Nazareth, who spouts the kind of inane shite the desperate seem happy to believe if they can feel better about themselves without taking the blame for their past actions. They should try writing a sporadic, patchy film blog, far more therapeutic.
Anyway, Bruce also has a rather dramatic interpretation of immersion therapy, doing a male rape victim up the wrong 'un to help him confront his abused past for example. Being aware of that approach I'd probably say that I had issues with crisps and napping, then settle down for a fortnight on my Monster Munch duvet.
As you can probably guess, it all goes a bit bollock shaped by the end of the film.
It's well acted and all that stuff, but didn't grab me at all. No one was very likeable, the pacing was sluggish and I'm now too busy thinking about snack based bedding to carry on.