REVIEW: TONY
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IF you ever needed proof not to trust weedy men with moustaches then Brit serial killer flick TONY (18) is it.
Set on the grim streets of north London, director Gerard Johnson's first feature is a bleak, unsettling and darkly comic glimpse into the life a psychopathic loner.
With a terrible hair cut and precious few social skills, Tony spends his days watching low-grade action movies on his beaten-up VHS recorder and inviting strangers back to his dreary council flat. His awkward and inept attempts at conversation mean most guests end up treating him like something they've scrapped off their shoes - and when things stop going his way, that's when the killing begins.
At the heart of the film is Peter Ferdinando's authentically twisted performance which walks the fine line between damaged victim and repressed monster. His intensity and commitment is utterly engrossing, which is just as well as the film fixates on the small details which add depth but little thrust to the plot.
Still the disarming docu-drama style offers shocks and laughs - a visit to a prostitute is as funny as it is desperate - but it's Ferdinando's performance that will stick with you like an axe to the head. - JUSTIN MATLOCK
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