When Ann, husband George, and son Georgie arrive at their holiday home they are visited by a pair of polite and seemingly pleasant young men. Armed with deceptively sweet smiles and some golf clubs, they proceed to terrorize and torture the tight-knit clan, giving them until the next day to survive.
This is a movie I can't help but really despise. Especially egregious is the pretentious way in which the filmmaker takes a position of haughty moral indignation and attempts to guilt-trip his own audience for wanting to watch a horror film in the first place. We know what he wanted to achieve with this movie, because he has told us explicitly; and he thought so highly of his achievement that he decided to make the film twice, shot-for-shot. Every scene is deliberately calculated to be as awkward to watch and as boring as possible, since anti-suspense is part of the "point". It is essentially the writer/director giving a middle finger to anyone willing to sit through this finger-wagging tripe.