This mess started out slowly and kept slowing down. Kirsten Dunst tried her best in a less than happy-go-lucky role of a grieving daughter who helped her terminally ill mother exit the planet by getting her to smoke a poisoned doobie. She has trouble dealing with the grief and guilt so going back to work at the cannabis shop wasn't the best idea. Her boss wants her back but she seems to just show up when she wants to. I wish my boss let me do that.
Dunst seems to be in every scene and she runs the emotional gamut of depressed, very depressed, extremely depressed and then angry before going back to depressed again. Giving away any more of this movie's weirdness would be counterproductive. My advice is to make a trip to your neighborhood pot store to get some wacky weed. Just don't let a blonde named Theresa sell it to you. She has a tendency to mix up the orders. Then toke up before Netflixing this yawner. Who knows, maybe you'll find a plot. I couldn't.
Review of Woodshock
