Starting with a thin premise it then laboriously and inconsistently hammers home for 100 minutes, The Brass Teapot disappointingly wastes two game performances from its leads and an occasional pulp insight into post-recession Millennial life. There's no sense of order to the self-harm that dispenses money, leading to leaps from extremities like burning to innocuous measures such as spanking. Then, sudden lurches completely redefine the MacGuffin multiple times over in the span of minutes. It throws off the drab tonal constancy, but not, unfortunately, in a way that breathes life into a static picture.
My full review is up at Spectrum Culture.