‘Violet’ Review: Olivia Munn Wrestles a Woman’s Deafening Self-Doubt in Daring Indie Drama

It’s awfully crowded in Violet’s head.

First there’s the voice, which sounds like a demeaning male bully, constantly telling Violet she’s worthless.

When it speaks, the screen turns red and a loud electronic humming noise causes Violet’s ears to ring.

Then there’s a second running commentary, this one silent and less sure of itself, appearing as loopy cursive text across the screen.

Add to that her childhood memories, projected like 16mm film onto random surfaces, and it’s all but overwhelming — not just for Violet but for audiences of writer-director Justine Bateman’s “Violet” as well.Violet describes this chorus of distractions as “the committee,” and for better or worse, Bateman has found a subjective way for us to experience them too — as in the confrontational opening montage, a whirlwind of car crashes, smashing glass, exploding appliances and dying animals.

Bateman’s approach isn’t funny or cute,

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