Rebirth: Home Sweet Home review – family holiday turns into hellish apocalypse in Thai-set yarn
Square-jawed cop Jake (Wiliam Moseley, Peter from the early-2000s Narnia movies, all grown up) arrives in Bangkok with his wife Prang (Urassaya Sperbund) and moppet daughter Loo (Akeira Hadden) to visit Prang's mother. Unfortunately for this nuclear family, a demon has broken through on to this earthly realm, its first point of contact right in Bangkok and all hell has quite literally broken loose. Actually the film, which is an adaptation of a computer game (called Home Sweet Home) popular in Thailand, rather dawdles with touristy scenes of Jake, Prang and Loo daytripping around the city, and one has to wonder if some of the production money was put up by a tourism board with its own agenda.
Nevertheless, Jake tries to kill possessed bad guy Mek (Michele Morrone, rather a hoot) in a shopping mall and that's when it all kicks off. Suddenly, half the population of Bangkok seem possessed and are trying to kill the other half, and Prang and Loo are separated from Jake and must cross the city on a municipal bus as they try to avoid being murdered by the marauding millions. Elsewhere, a ginormous demon made of fire and CGI pixels moves its slow thighs through the urban landscape, a rough beast whose 93 minutes has come round at last in time for the absurd apocalyptic conclusion.
Directors Steffen Hacker and Alexander Kiesl (plus the uncredited screenwriters) throw just about every mythology into the mix, from paganism to Buddhism to a bit of Hollywood horror-movie lore. The end result isn't pretty, but as genre fare it's at least energetic and Sperbund contributes a credible performance as Prang, one the film deserves.
Rebirth: Home Sweet Home is on digital platforms from 14 April, and on DVD and Blu-Ray from 21 April.
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I was also diagnosed with ADHD, so needed to get my head around a second condition too. I discovered that some characteristics of autism and ADHD work against each other: autism needs routine and my ADHD needed spontaneity. But other characteristics overlap to create a heightened experience: I used alcohol to calm the anxiety produced by living with autism and, as ADHD causes lower levels of dopamine in the brain, I was driven to activities that boosted it – binge-drinking, risky sex. Understanding this released me from years of self-blame and guilt. In time, I've come to see that my neurodivergence has advantages. I feel emotions intensely but this also includes positive emotions such as happiness and joy. My capacity for emotion and empathy has been a great help in writing character-based fiction. My obsessive nature and need to spend long periods on my own mean I'm suited to immersing myself in the fictional worlds I create. And, while my ADHD helps ignite the initial sparks of creativity, my autism kicks in to make sure I knuckle down and bring these ideas to fruition. But I have also felt profound grief. This is primarily for the past, for all the missed opportunities, all the things I lost or had taken away from me. All the times I was criticised for behaviours that I didn't realise were symptomatic of my autism. I also wonder what my life would have looked like if I had been diagnosed earlier: would I have applied for Cambridge or the job at Channel 4 News? Would I have persisted in writing fiction if I'd known that the rejection would cause me so much hurt? Of course, I should have been able to do these things with accommodations made for my neurodivergence, but the reality is that these allowances didn't exist 30 – or even 10 – years ago. I'm beginning to make adjustments to my life, securing the accommodations I need. I've invested in noise-reducing earplugs, a weighted blanket that regulates my nervous system, and no longer stop myself singing randomly musicalised phrases. I only commit to social occasions I know make me feel good about myself. Likewise, I avoid sensory environments I know will make me uncomfortable and recover from sensory overwhelm by going for long walks in nature. Professionally, I ask for clear, unambiguous communication and I've also switched literary agents; my new representative handles the business side of my career to avoid any conflict. Recently, there have been claims that autism is being 'over-diagnosed'. Given that it took me until the age of 50 to receive a diagnosis, I'd challenge this. I'd also like to challenge some of the stereotypes that prevail – not to mention the prejudice. Now I've written this article, I accept that I'll always be seen as autistic. Some people might use this against me; if I have any disagreements, my point of view could be dismissed as an expression of my autism. But I also know that, at 50, there's probably less time ahead of me than there is behind. And with that knowledge, I embark on a new journey, to finally start living as myself, to embrace my neurodivergence and create a life that works best for me. I'm ready. Matt Cain's latest novel One Love is published by Headline (£9.99). To support the Guardian, order your copy at Delivery charges may apply. Do you have an opinion on the issues raised in this article? If you would like to submit a response of up to 300 words by email to be considered for publication in our letters section, please click here.
