There’s just certain kinds of things in the genre that… make me feel like an extra in those mental patient scenes. You know which ones I mean. You can smell the bleach, which has begun to creep into the seams of the wooden veneer. The scene I’m describing is earlier in the film, that broad shorthand they’re so fond of. These are gentle, harmless, but somehow necessary movements and I don’t like the feeling it puts on my scalp.