Dark Night

Immersive and committed to its austere form, the solemn, often-dialogue free Dark Night never spoon feeds and always allows the viewer to draw their own conclusions.

Occasionally too emblematic as individuals, the characters collectively mesh into a portrait of a dislocated society elevated by Sutton’s talent for disorienting imagery.

Dark Night is a drama of grim inevitability.

A worthy — if chilly and difficult — addition to the sadly extensive filmography of American mass murder. The soundtrack from Canadian singer-songwriter Maica Armata adds some much-needed heart.

Tim Sutton's film often surprises on the micro level, but its broader execution gives reason for pause.

Under its compelling influence, we are lured into feeling that these various lives, marked by vacuity and frustration, are in some way destined to end at the point of a gun — that the murderer and his victims coexist on a continuum of despair. Try telling that to the people of Aurora.

Until its climax, which clearly seeks to be congratulated on its restraint, Dark Night is not much more than an arty bore.