Lady (2026)

"Sam" (Laurie Knyaston) was once a BAFTA nominated director who has landed a gig making a documentary for Netflix at the stately home of "Lady Isabella" (Sian Clifford). His introduction to her is somewhat unnerving: she's eccentric, aristocratic, flirtatious, intruiging - oh, and clearly bonkers too. It doesn't take him long to realise that very little here is quite what it seems or what he'd wanted, but with his (unseen) camera team determined to film just about everything that goes on over the next few days it looks like we are in for the ultimate in dysfunctional fly-on-the-wall productions - warts and all! That coverage might prove harder than you'd think when their hostess starts to disappear - like an invisibility version of gangrene! Maybe "Sam" et al ought to just get the hell out of there? No I didn't always like the juddery hand-held photography, but there are two really quite effective efforts from Clifford and Knyaston for us to enjoy here. She epitomises the stereotypical landed gentry with way too much time/money on her hands; an always absent husband and a loyal factotum - in this case "Becky" (Juliet Cowan) to help keep her off, or occassionally on, her pills. He, on the other hand, starts out as your typical aspiring cinema luvvie who has little interest in the project or it's subject, but sees her as a way to revitalise his waning directorial star. There are twists a-plenty here, including one from quite left field that resets what equilibrium there ever was towards the end, and there is some quite raw pith from a dialogue that is confidently delivered by a Clifford who is presenting a character with more than one string to her emotionally-charged/compromised bow. Likewise, Knyaston also presents us with a slightly more perplexed and reactive persona that runs a little deeper than that we might have expected from the beginning. I've seen quite a few horror films that aren't as scary as some of this and if you are ready for something really quite different and characterful then this is a quirky, entertaining and quickly paced ninety minutes that can sometimes make you think - and I haven't seen a raven this good since Peter Lorre in 1963.