Like TALK RADIO, THE BOOTH is actually kinda predictable (TALK RADIO because we know the truth of what happened going in, THE BOOTH because of- let's face it- the genre and the basic set-up). That's not necessarily a bad thing, in this case. It means, in essence, that the filmmakers don't punk out in the end the way they might've in, say, an American version of this story. THE BOOTH moves inexorably toward its (foregone) conclusion, but is so beautifully crafted on every level that one can enjoy the ride the way one might a familiar cruise along a well-travelled stretch of (very scenic) road. It reminds me of Harlan Ellison's spooky short story, FLOP SWEAT. The claustrophobia is, at times, almost palpable. Worth a nice long look.

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(b).