M. Night Shyamalan directs James McAvoy, Anya Taylor-Joy and Betty Buckley in this thriller about a nut with 23 personalities who kidnaps three girls.

A thirty something year old man convincingly dancing to Kanye as a nine year old boy would. Can’t be topped for laughs or creepiness. And pretty much sums this whole five finger exercise up. A rum cocktail of tense and daft moments but what more could you ask for from Shyamalan. McAvoy is pleasantly committed but you suspect there is no real sweat to playing a half dozen different caricatures if they only have to share the same face and no other attributes. Taylor-Joy is equally fine as the final girl… but she’s been better used by horrors of wavering quality elsewhere. The twist is there is no twist… yet one long drawn out narrative rug pull involves child abuse without exploring the emotional damage, just using paedophilia as a get out clause to a sticky situation, narrative shorthand, thus cheapening the whole thing. Meanwhile the coda makes you remember a little too keenly when Shyamalan was actually quite decent at this kinda of self important trash bobbins.

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