Anvari has set out to make a mood piece that succeeds in scaring the audience senseless.
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What are critics saying?
The performers are left with very little to work with and while Hammer does find away of making the most of his haunted alcoholic, Johnson and Zazie Beetz, two wonderful actors, are stranded with hopelessly one-dimensional roles.
The film’s threadbare story runs parallel to some compelling ideas about masculine insecurity, internalized pain, and the price of genetic privilege, but Anvari’s well-calibrated jump-scare machine is too preoccupied with gross effects, unmotivated jolts, and that strange rash that’s growing in Hammer’s left armpit to engage with any of them.
The Hollywood Reporter by David Rooney
Voracious genre consumers should get off on trying to decipher the densely textured film's murky ambiguities.
Ultimately, it’s hard to figure out exactly what movie Anvari was trying to make.
The A.V. Club by Joshua Alston
Hammer’s character, Will, is an empty vessel, no more than an updated model of the jerkwad boyfriend in every ’80s slasher.
Wounds is a visceral, disturbing descent into the destruction of a man that hits all of the conventional horror notes with sadistic joy taking viewers on a ride straight to hell.
The Guardian by Peter Bradshaw
Once the wounds have healed, Anvari may wish to make a film with the strength and distinctiveness of his debut.
There’s nothing more terrifying in this film than the creative talent wasted on such shockingly mediocre material.
It's decent but not deep fare, connecting most with the theme of alcoholism as a different kind of tempting but terrible abyss.