Looking at Jason Buxton's "Sharp Corner" is like witnessing a slow-motion car accident. Litigation proceedings are a bleak necessity, and the way we don’t move away is a cruel peeping imitation. Of course, considering how appropriate this occasional suburban story is, it is a casual suburb that he becomes unnecessarily obsessed with stopping (or at least helping) the excessive crashes that take place on the sinister corner street in front of his new home. Led by Ben Foster's opposition performance, this rhythmic psychological thriller about family and masculinity might light up, but ultimately touches a space-centric tone that can't shoot the final shot.

The promise of the new house is to have a chance to go home. That's what Josh and Rachel (Foster and Cobie Smulders) hope to do when they move to a gorgeous property in the city with their kids. But the happiness of their dizzy, giggling is short-lived when they begin to untire and settle. Josh and Rachel soon stopped being happy to reignite their long-lost sexual intimacy than one of their front windows. It seems that a car is sliding off the road and hitting the tree on the front lawn. It initially felt like a weird accident - which in turn frightened everyone in the family, most obviously - and soon it will be discovered that this is the beginning of a tragic pattern.

As Buxton's title tells us too neatly, this beautiful house beside the woods sits in front of a sharp turn. For drunk or distracted drivers (especially in bad weather), this nominal corner proves deadly. When the first crash did kill a teenager who was driving under the influence, Rachel was ready to rethink this new life and this new home. How could they raise a boy when any scream or braking noise on the street is enough to send them to the edge? Shouldn't they sue and move out immediately? By the time the second accident happened, when Josh once again had to helplessly witness someone dying in front of him, the couple found themselves struggling to cope with the consequences in a completely different way.

Rachel pushes practical solutions and focuses on the psychological impact of these events on young, sensitive children. But Josh began to slowly fascinate how he could be the savior of anyone who ended up in trouble on the lawn. Obviously, if he is not completely dissatisfied with his management work in the city, Josh will soon be swallowed by these past tragedies and future pains, and he may help contain it. He studied the lives of these victims. He spent the night on the front porch, holding beer in his hand, staring at the headlights of any passing ball. Later, he began taking CPR courses, preparing for the moment when he became the hero he knew he could be. But his obsession quickly got his best, and he was trying to keep the family safe and succumbed to their needs with casual indifference.

Foster has long loved to get hurt, sometimes wild characters, whose sharp tempers and big characters play a role in the actor's own physical condition. He brings dynamic intensity to projects like "3:10 to Yuma", "Hell or High Water" and "Liberation". So it's quite interesting to see him play the company of a Moss, a mild suburban father here. With a fussy beard, bald hairline and a wardrobe as rude as Josh’s own personality (he was all khaki twill and sky blue buttons), Foster brought himself into a man who couldn’t bring space. Despite marrying a therapist, Josh is quite myopic about his emotional well-being and foster telegrams, which disconnect in a soft tone from a clever physical state. But he also managed to cover up a sinister threat in that rather amiable manner.

Most of the horrors of this person's drifting psychological portrait is based on Josh's desire to control a life that rotates rapidly. Rachel is most worried about developing PTSD, but it is her husband who gradually gets rid of the needs and responsibilities he has long been concerned about. With Stephen McKeon’s alternate score and sound design that properly leaves all sorts of noise from the streets and out of the central street, “Sharp Corners” insist on getting us trapped in Josh’s headspace, a disturbing, frustrating claustrophobic place. Proposing the perfect life he hopes to build in this house becomes increasingly elusive and perfect life is not a spoiler.

In Buxton and Foster's hands, Josh is a dismal study of contemporary masculinity. It is an increasingly disturbing fable that the lives of those who only enjoy themselves will make themselves feel needed and verified are peaceful. In 2025, this is likely to be a clear psychological portrait of a person as gentle as Josh. Because it's that kind of destruction (vehicle or other situation), we've seen it so many times. We were forced to cross the rubber neck maybe the point. But that's what makes it impact and surprising, not hope.