This is definitely a movie that works better than it should, thanks to the wonderful casting.

Writing: The story is predictable in nearly every possible way. To make matters worse, it feels as if it were actually written as a period piece, and later somebody chose to transpose it to a contemporary setting. There’s a little bit of class rivalry, but then it randomly switches gears to a more modern approach, for seemingly little reason whatsoever.

Production: In keeping with the fairy tale aspects of the story, the production goes for a slightly exaggerated production style. But just like the script, it can’t decide if it wants to be a period piece or a contemporary story. It also can’t quite make up its mind on how in and out of common reality it wants to be. Still, things are designed and shot well enough to look good and get the job done.

Cast: Here’s the highlight of the movie, to be sure. It’s impossible to go wrong casting Christina Ricci, one of my favorite actresses. She plays the aponymous character with an atypical amount of bounce and optimism from the usual kind of role she takes (then again, it looks like we’ll be getting another upbeat performance from her in Speed Racer). The only danger is that even with the pig nose the character has in the movie, Ricci’s performance is so completely charming that it’s hard to buy into the instant fear and disgust that everybody has towards her. Catherine O’Hara is not just an obvious choice for the over-protective and over-ambitious mother, but also the perfect choice. James McAvoy seems to be turning up in just about everything these days, but I suppose this one was the result of the film sitting on a shelf for a couple years before being released, for whatever reason. Supporting characters are rounded out with great casting, including Richard E. Grant and Reese Witherspoon (who is also a producer for the film). Last but least not, there’s also Peter Dinklage, one of today’s most overlooked acting talents, rounding out the supporting cast.

Music: Joby Talbot turns in a score that’s pretty much what one would expect for the movie. That’s not particularly a bad thing. It works well, and has some fun in doing so.

Every once in a while, a small, independent film will come along and redefine an over-saturated genre. Some of the best examples of such manage to both satirize the genre while at the same time excelling at what they are targeting. This is just such an example. It’s one of the great little indie surprise films of the year. I like movies that can find a way to make their low budget work for them.

Writing: Told in 3 loosely connected stories, written and directed by three different people, the film gets to shake things up with different styles and approaches to the material. The middle of the three acts plays at subversive humor, happilly undercutting the genre standards. And yet, in doing so, it gets an extra-creepy feel about it. Then the final act manages to interconnect things and bring the narrative back to its primary focus. For a film that could easily feel disjointed and messy, it works surprisingly well.

Production: While this may be a movie that has a somewhat amateur feel, there’s no denying the success of the creepiness of the style. And frankly, some of the amateur qualities lend to the telling of the story, giving it a raw feeling. It also helps sell some of the spectacularly dead-pan humor, which ranges from broad to extremely subtle. Likewise, the production quality and cinematography figure out how to get in some enthralling material.

Cast: With a roster of actors that were complete unknowns to me, it was a pleasant surprise to see some nice performances. Of particular note is Anessa Ramsey, who plays the female lead. The rest of the cast does an excellent job as well.

Music: Like the cast, composer Ben Lovett is a newcomer of which I had zero familiarity. His scoring is raw, nicely stylized and really hits its marks well. While it might not sound completely like a classic John Carpenter score, it certainly accomplishes many of the same goals.