The Ghoul

Movies about mental illness are inherently depressing...no pun intended. And the most effective sort, like Martin Scorsese's Taxi Driver, makes you feel a little unbalanced yourself. Director Gareth Tunley, a British comedian making his debut feature, goes for a pitch-black mind bender with The Ghoul (2016), spiraling around the fragile psyche of its lead character, an undercover cop pretending to be crazy...or a crazy person pretending to be an undercover cop. The frustratingly ambiguous film lets you take your pick.

Things kick off with a crime scene investigation as Chris (Tom Meeten) is called in to solve the mystery behind a shooting that left two victims dead...but not before they remained alive and mobile for an unnaturally long time. A clue points to the property manager who was a psychotherapy patient. Chris makes an appointment and puts on an "act" to learn more, only his lies become mixed with the truth. His clinical depression cover story bleeds into reality, partners and co-workers take on dual roles as tangential friends and lovers. And the investigation, if there ever really was one to begin with, stalls as the truth behind Chris' life become unreliably twisted around itself.

The film's title, which suggests a more overtly supernatural approach, pops up in a couple of different contexts. But Tunley is toying with his audience from the get-go, introducing question marks and flipped expectations at every opportunity. The rhythm is intentionally offbeat and never settles into anything resembling a traditional narrative. All of which, if you're a fan of creative introspection, can be taken as positives. But there's also a film festival formula at work that can be grating in it's excessive artfulness.

With Ben Wheatley (Free Fire) as an executive producer, the film has a wealth on talent on display despite the low budget. Tunley recruited his comedic partners to try a different approach, with lead actor Tom Meeten putting in a particularly convincing - and sober - performance. The Ghoul never gives the audience a break; it's an unrelenting profile of mental illness that hints at a greater conspiracy (the supernatural angle that starts the film never really comes into focus) built around the concept of depression as a Mobius strip. And the film itself provides a narrative echo of the same, ending where it began in a grim and emotionally draining cycle.

British-based Arrow Films presents their homegrown title on Blu-ray with a good slate of supporting extras, including a 40-minute Making Of, filmmaker commentary, short film, trailers and liner notes.