Film review: KNOCK KNOCK (Eli Roth, 2015)

Even though I turned 25 over two months ago, and thus am now no stranger to watching 18-rated movies in the cinema, for me, it’s something which the novelty of doing doesn’t seem to wear off. Perhaps it evokes nostalgia-filled memories of the first 18-rated film I sneaked into – Martin Scorsese’s The Departed, when I was 16 (under the guise of wanting to watch The Devil Wears Prada, no less), perhaps it’s the feeling of #sophistication it imbues me with, and perhaps it’s the enjoyment of sharing a cinema-going experience with fellow fans without having to deal with bratty teenagers taking Snapchats of the screen throughout the film, but for this seasoned movie geek, watching an 18-rated film at the cinema is something that still makes me feel giddy.

Eli Roth’s Knock Knock is rated 18 for ‘strong sustained and sadistic threat, sex, sex references, nudity’, which is as pithy a summary of the plot as you’re likely to find. Keanu Reeves is Evan Webber, a happily married family man with the quintessential Hollywood family (blonde wife, a son, a daughter and a cute dog), quintessential Hollywood job (high-flying architect who’s CAD-skills are in high demand, meaning he can’t go to the beach with said family one weekend) and quintessential Hollywood house (an urbane bungalow just a few miles from central LA).

When he’s staying at home said weekend, hard at work, he gets a knock on the door. Standing in the pouring rain are two attractive young women, one flaxen, one brunette. They claim to be lost finding a house party they’re meant to attend, and could they dry themselves off whilst he gets an Uber. However, their salacious discussions, casual bending over and stroking of Evan hint at something much more calculated under the randy air stewardess veneer. Evan succumbs to their obvious allure and sleeps with them. And that’s when his problems take a deadly turn.

I’m yet to watch Eli Roth’s Hostel series, and, being one with an aversion for needless torture porn, I doubt I ever will. But I must admit, I was intrigued when I heard the premise of Knock Knock. The idea that the most dangerous thing to us is something that we let into our own house, and that we are the architects of our own downfall, are all themes that pique my interest. Knock Knock is, as expected, not a particularly pleasant viewing experience.

Every scene reeks with amorality and the two girls, Genesis and Bel (played by relative unknowns Lorenza Izzo and Ana de Armas) are on a level of batshit crazy that would make Gone Girl’s Amy seem like the picture of sanity. Watching them torture an affable but hapless guy for one mistake which they essentially entrapped him into, is troubling, to say the least.

But what elevates it from standard exploitation-fare is the sharp script, which balances bathos with the darkest of humour. On more than one occasion in the film, I chuckled (whether that be from being tickled by the writing or nerves, who knows). Despite what some reviews have said about Reeves being miscast, I actually completely bought him in this role, and Izzo and Armas were psychotic in their performances, yet magnetically so.

There were moments towards the end of the film as plot twist upon plot twist just got increasingly more ludicrous, but for a 100 minutes of edge-of-your-seat erotic thriller-meets-sarcastic morality tale, Knock Knock just about suffices. I certainly won't be opening the door of my house in a hurry.

6.5/10

Fish and chips watch: THE GREAT BRITISH TAKE AWAY (Ramsgate)

Mark: 8/10

Breakfast watch: Luna Café (Chiswick)

The sausages were a little burnt, but the actual ingredients used for it was very high quality. Big fan of the crispy bacon and the oily hash brown. Decent amount of baked beans, and just look at that deliciously buttered toast! 

The only real downside was that for drink, you could only have coffee or tea. I wanted orange juice! That would have washed the meal down better. And I don't really like mushrooms, so I would have rather had more of the other ingredients rather than the mushroom.

Overall though, very solid.

Grade: A-

Bar review: SUGAR CANE (Clapham)

Sugar Cane, one of Clapham's more affordable bars, has Happy Hour for a few hours every weekday, and I would recommend any of the drinks involving tropical juice, which go down a treat. And £5 for a fairly well-brewed cocktail isn't something I can argue with really, particularly as Happy Hour in most London bars equated to Buy One Get One Free, or two cocktails for a tenner. This is much better because there are no constraints on what your other drink has to be!

One slight downside is that the non-alcoholic drinks aren't as cheap as they could be: a lime cordial and soda was £2, which even for London, is pretty extortionate. So it feels one is being indirectly nudged into getting the alcoholic beverages.

Sugar Cane also has a good ambience (although the lights were a bit too dim), well-cleaned toilets, and boast a decent food menu. I've been to Sugar Cane about five times and the service has been hit-and-miss, the worst being a woman who took an absolute lifetime to make a simple cocktail, and didn't crack a smile once. However, if you get the man who appears to run the place, then you're service will be good - he knows what he's doing.

If you're around Clapham, worth a visit. 

Grade: B

Bar review: ORIOLE BAR (Farringdon)

My favourite TV show of all time, Sex and the City, has a lot to answer for. Of the four lead females, the one I recognise myself in the most is definitely Carrie Bradshaw (played by Sarah Jessica Parker with considerable wit and flair). Carrie doesn’t take break-ups well, tends to fall hard in love with men who are no good for her, and is a writer. (Admittedly, I write for a blog, she writes for a state-wide newspaper, but still).

Furthermore, it was only because Carrie loved Cosmopolitans so much that I began drinking Cosmopolitans, and if I am ever in a cocktail bar, that’s my go-to drink. At Oriole bar, ordering a Cosmo would be failing to make the most of your opulent surroundings. The bar offers weird and wonderful concoctions featuring the most out there ingredients, including egg yolk, tobacco liquor and, er… dust.

The menu, which is divided by parts of the world (which inspired the various cocktails), is in itself, longer than most children’s books. I’m not being funny, but at 8pm when you just wanna get drunk with your girlfriends so you can trash-talk the clown men in your life (couldfillabook.jpg), who’s got time to read a whole MSc project-length??

That’s not to say that the drinks, and the food, sparse in quality as it was, wasn’t well presented.  Looks-wise, it certainly turned my head:-

That being said, the ostentatious presentation comes at a cost in terms of practicality. As the night progressed and I lost control of my motor neurones, I tipped over my awkwardly-shaped glass. Thankfully this was at the end and only ice cube spilt, but some of them went on the poor lady sat next to me. Hardly ideal.

The barfood was equally impractical. The chorizo, photographed below, whilst delicious, was I wolfed it up in about three bites. I've been curious about what exactly quinoa is since I saw Gone Girl  two months ago and Ben Affleck was mocked for thinking it was kind of fish. Turns out that what it actually is is some bland-ass flavourless pseudo-cereal concoction. Boring, and the pittance of salsa sauce put on it hardly merited the £7.50 price. That's £2.50 per fritter. Would you pay £2.50 for something you can barely see?!

Overall, I found Oriole too pretentious, and if I’m complaining about something being too pretentious, you know you’ve got problems. I guess I’m just too direct a person. I love cocktails, but I like to have two or three different alcoholic ingredients, a few mixers, and boom. And I’d rather my mixer didn’t include something that could give me an allergy!

Oriole bar is more of a status symbol than it is a viable drinking hole. People would bring guests here just to show that they can; that they can afford to throw away £14 on a cocktail with about 3 alcohol units in, tops.

I’d rather have Cosmopolitan, thanks.

Grade: C

Bar review: BAR AMÉRICAIN (Soho)

Tying in with the 1920s, prohibition era of the bar, Bar Américain is one of those ‘you have to know it’s there to go there’ places, tucked in neatly behind Brassiere Zedel and with no discernible clues from the outside that it exists at all. Sights of women in flapper dresses and men in black and white suits suggests this is a popular go-to place for hosting Great Gatsby-style parties.

The cocktails taste delicious, and are very intricately crafted, thus almost justifying the extortionate rates. My personal favourite is the Chrysler, which will get you drunk and satisfy the tastebuds – a truly rare commodity amongst cocktails these days (the cocktails in Slug and Lettuce taste nice but have barely any alcohol, whereas cocktails that are overloaded with booze end up tasting like horrible, cough medicinesque concoctions). The waiters are very attentive and bring you a small amount of popcorn to chomp on whilst you’re enjoying your drinks.

The lighting in Bar Américain is dark, too dark for my liking, and the décor a little out there for me. The seating was certainly extremely comfortable – plush, American-style furniture. 

All in all, it’s one of the more elegant places I’ve gotten inebriated in, but also by far one of the most expensive. Just so you know what I’m talking about, a cocktail you can drink in about 5 minutes clocks in at £12 (cheaper options are the classic cocktails for £9, but why shell out for something you’ve tasted before if you’re here for the adventure?). 

Don’t act like I never told you.

Grade: B

For more of my bar reviews, click here. If you would like me to review your bar, drop me an email at lemon_and_lime7@hotmail.com