a review of 母亲的双眼

During my adolescent years I used to devour horror films, back then rented on VHS videotape from the local video rental store. But these days I notice more and more how the horror genre often either bores me or disgusts me, but the exhilaration has mostly gone. The Eyes of My Mother is a case of doubt. The cold sadism did disgust me, but I loved the atmospheric black and white cinematography, which, combined with the countryside desolation, gave the film an odd kind of sad, poetic touch, despite the horrifying events.