In a beautiful yet sinister village, a mysterious woman with spooky powers shows up to investigate her sister’s death. This perturbs the local business community, who are responsible for the killing, having hired an assassin called Shark to do the deed. He is not called Shark because he can smell blood, but because he can smell fear. He reveals this, then walks off, cackling. It’s that kind of film.
Daggers Inn is muddled, but landmark cinema in certain respects. Finally, the UK has a film to rival the 2003 US indie The Room, which still plays to packed houses, with audiences eternally thrilled by its hilarious creative choices and uneven performances. Daggers Inn is similarly ripe, not in the calculatedly trashy manner of a Sharknado film, but in the sense of amateurs’ original, sincere but almost entirely unsuccessful efforts.
