The Devil’s Plantation

Never have I been so aware of my body settling, fluid puddling in my swelling feet, my aching arse, as I was watching The Devil’s Plantation. A sort of Wisconsin Death Trip-esque film set in Glasgow, entirely composing of black and white shots of the city’s urban and rural landscapes while two voices narrate two unconnected strands of story that go nowhere. How I longed for a ned to headbutt the camera and put an end to it.