Jane’s memory is on the blink after a traumatic car crash (is there any other kind really?) which causes all manner of static between her and her family, so she enlists the help of a psychiatrist to give her a helping hand. Well, that pulls the cork out of her ol’ mental genie bottle which has the adverse (and rather insane) side effect of her experiencing warnings issued by a young girl that beats feet after delivering the gloom and doom bit. And just what the hell is going on with all of those mysterious packages containing keys and random bric-a-brac, and what of that house that Jane discovers she owns? This shit is like The Reflex; every damn thing is answered with a question mark…anyway, Jane soon visits said home only to find your by-the-numbers supernatural goings-on, all set up to right a repressed wrong in her life from years gone by.
If you think Lavender seems pretty standard, well you’d be right on the money my creeps. You have definitely heard this ghoulish greatest hits package before, so as far as the meat and potatoes of this sinister story, you’ve heard (or rather seen) it (minus a twist or two during the final act) ad nauseum. so we are going to have to dig deeper to see if there is anything to delight your putrid peepers with this one.
First off, Director Ed Gass-Donnelly is a stylis F’er that’s for sure. Lavender sure looks great and presents the pedestrian material with a real flair (including a single-take slow-mo car crash extravaganza), as well as presenting long, lingering shots of the hellish haunted house that really add to the atmospherics. Also adding to the malevolent tone is the flicks soundtrack, comprised of low-end ambience and sinister strings. Finally the acting on display, especially from Abbie Cornish as Jane…who definitely isn’t your normal scaredy-cat protagonist, is strong throughout.
Putting this one to bed; Lavender is a stylish and well-acted affair, with a time worn tale at it’s core. If you dig on supernatural mysteries with a slightly neo-Gothic aesthetic, and don’t mind a heaping helping of the familiar from your narrative, then I would say give this one a go some dreary Sunday afternoon.