His wrists were duct-taped to the back of the chair, his ankles strapped to its legs, his stomach spilling out over the sides of its narrow frame. It had been welded together out of angle iron. He was the victim trapped in the victim’s chair. Before him stood Mark Twitchell in a dark hoodie and jeans, a studio light glowing behind his head, throwing a soft hue onto the grease-stained walls. Joss was nearby, checking on the sound equipment. David huddled over a rented digital camera mounted on a tripod. Scott, who towered over everyone, was fiddling with a light. The crew had already unspooled a roll of duct tape across Chris’s chest. It tugged tight on the navy blue dress shirt he was wearing, squeezing his arms into his sides. Twitchell took a step back and looked down at the captive Chris, completely restrained from his shoulders to his feet. Twitchell’s lips pouted a bit as he tried to hide a brief smile of pride. “Okay,” David announced, adjusting the camera a little. “We’re ready for the killer stuff.”
What do You think about The Devil's Cinema (2012)?
