Florian Weigl’s review published on Letterboxd:
Reminded me in its fatalism / general premise of one of my all-time favorite "short stories" - »A Stranger Among Other« in Sergey Lukyanenko and Vladimir Vasilyev's Watches series - but where Lukyanenko / Vasilyev push for melancholy, Prior embraces nothingness. What is a body if not will filtered through chemicals and what is a will if not a notion set in motion? What then becomes of the body once it fulfills its destiny? Narrativizes itself through clichés and clichés because they provide motivation and feed the body once it crumbles. Will write more about this on a re-watch but while the Fincher connection stands Prior breaths Kurosawa and Schrader as a near-constant fall into the abyss with goddamn dirty hippies replaced by teenagers and creepy-pastas.