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The Dead Girl is a movie with a chip on its shoulder. The relentless emotional violence in it, a compendium of five vignettes related to a young woman whose naked, mutilated corpse is discovered on a barren hillside, is of a level rarely found in movies, even those steeped in gore.
There is some gore in The Dead Girl, but it is eclipsed in intensity by the verbal abuse hurled by its desperately unhappy characters at the people closest to them. All five stories are set in the desolate outliers of Los Angeles, portrayed as a physical and emotional wasteland.
Just when it seems as though the language of insult and humiliation couldn't get any nastier, the movie escalates the barrage. I think we're meant to take it personally, as though the director and writer, Karen Moncrieff, were slapping our faces and screaming at us to wake up and face the awful truth; this is how many people maybe most people really are. Rage rules. If the concentrated bile is bracing to a point, I don't totally buy it.
Moncrieff, whose promising debut film, Blue Car, in , explored the seduction of a high school student by her poetry teacher, simply doesn't know where to stop. The Dead Girl seizes on some of the same psychological forces and ratchets them downward on the economic ladder while turning up the volume. The grim tone is established immediately with The Stranger, the story of the body's discovery by Arden Toni Collette , a meek young woman caring for her aged mother Piper Laurie , a foul-mouthed, bedridden termagant who demands to be served hand and foot and rewards that service by calling Arden a two-bit slut and worse.
