I liked this for about the first half – the repetition of her name that slowly morphs made me think about those times when words start to sound funny when abstracted. This combined with the images of a young girl gave me a nice impression of malleable identity and self questioning. But then it overstayed its welcome and I never wanted to hear the name Oona again.
Another great Wiseman film. I haven’t seen a film of his I didn’t like, but I think I prefer the earlier ones with a little more bite like this. I still don’t understand how he gets the access he seems to. Is it public right to film police officers? I just can’t imagine they wanted to have images of them choking women on screen.