Written and directed by Armando Fonseca And Furman Chapel, “Skull: Mask” takes its conspiracy seriously, unfortunately, and has no ability to back it up. Once upon a time, except for the skull, it worried about a crooked soldier named Beatrice (Natalia Rodriguez), The robbery is investigated after the art object is brought to the museum official’s house, and disappears along with the corpses that are suddenly destroyed. During the Beatriz investigation, it was discovered that the misleading museum owner (Ivo Müller) The person who was sent the mask from Amazon wants the mask for his own benefit, including the possible sacrifice of some abducted Bolivian children. Meanwhile there is a merchant named Manko (Wilton Andrade) Who seeks to protect the mask, and has a family history with the mask and its power. To prove it, Manko also has a broken arm, in which we learn backstory during a hasty and laden pre-credit prologue, involving a man wearing a skull, and having his head blown off.
These plot threads prove to be blended and heavy, and create the approximate speed of a casual walk, when all this freight train should feel like blasting at the border of each set-up, astonishing the audience as a creative, capable killer. Next up is a bit of charisma in the story, Beatrice’s empty space, the stone face in a subplot as he moves from one crime scene to another, or the story behind Monko’s touch-and-go development and the mask. None of these characters are as exciting as Sword which suddenly appears in a way that spoils me, as this is one of the few moments in the film. But it’s really an unpredictable sword, and the “kill bill” -inspired sequence that follows, is completely incompatible with anything happening, it knows.
While this time is dwindling, major appeals for Shidder alternatives such as “Skull: The Mask,” film gossip. In this kind of small deal of horror, at least let the filmmaker want to escape in its proper pleasure. Instead it turns into a trap, dealing with a sound mixer who also makes a sudden signal on the nose, and an ugly gray-blue palette that makes Sao Paulo look particularly ugly. Sadly, even those who have a heart attack and a stomach ache are sick for bad, or ridiculous. Fonseca and Furman’s style only shows practical effects, often cutting the lifeless state of the heart’s torso so that the presentation of blood can say it all. But the editing here is its own dull blade, and the “skull: this mask” can reduce a gory kill to give it significant oomph. (Slipping a person’s face is especially climactic.) There’s a good deal of genocide here, it’s more flashy than delicious, and therefore pays less.