I saw Tin and Tina...

Somewhere between Guillermo del Toro and Dario Argento lies Rubin Stein's quirky, Spanish study, Tin & Tina, based on the writer/director's 2013 short of the same name. Tin & Tina falls into the bad-seed subgenre and occurs during 1981, for those into dates. 

The headlining youths, played by Carlos Gonzalez Morollon and Anastasia Russo, flaunt blonde hair in the way of Village of the Damned's, but unlike the latter, they seem harmless enough, coming from an orphanage where they each played the organ with uncanny precision and learned The Bible inside out.  

Of course, there's a weird catch to these hymn-chirping prodigies, though their forlorn but hopeful adopters, Milena Smit's Lola and Jaime Lorente's Adolfo try to see past the children's threatening, if not giddy fanaticism. The cynical Lola (who comes to sport a Mia Farrow/Rosemary's Baby hairdo for sardonic reference) holds mixed feelings about the adoption, as she questions why she's unable to conceive offspring. Adolfo, on the other hand, is a pilot who spends ample time from home and (perhaps because of such) is supportive of the children, for a time even making excuses for them, despite the ominous indicators. 

Some claim that Tin & Tina demonstrates how religion, if pressed too far, can warp impressionable minds. The point seems valid, though I'd extend it to other impressed forms of extremism, in particular those of a socio-political and environmental/climate bent. The thing is, Tin and Tina are veritable ingenues within their setting, too naïve to probe their retributing wrongs (for one, comatosing a school bully), and it's easy to ponder how their actions could be curbed if only a priest (preferably with a child-psych degree) were to show them the consequential light. (It's odd that Lola and Adolfo don't take such a path, though they do converse with the orphanage's Mother Superior, played with practical pomposity by Teresa Rabal, but is she the cause of the youngsters' fervor or just glad to be rid of them?) 

When compared to similar, cinematic youths, Tin and Tina are more of a Ra's al Ghul/Bane equivalent. They'd no doubt slug it out with the Village of the Damned kids, Damien Thorne, the possessed Regan MacNeil and those endearing Children of the Corn, though I could see the siblings forming an alliance with that rural sect, if the circumstances did show cause. The thing is, Tin and Tina are far from the worst of the worst, and yet they're as chilling as any of the aforementioned, in particular when one acknowledges their brutality. (There's an obscured scene where the siblings sacrifice a family pet, with giggling and swishing sounds to convey the unfolding carnage: more terrifying in its nonchalant approach than if Stein had pulled a Herschell Gordon Lewis). 

On the down side, the movie's vague conclusion has polarized viewers, though there are adequate clues left to make a sensible, how-and-why assessment. The ending is also open for a sequel. I encourage Stein to consider it. There's lots to learn from what Tin & Tina serves, and therefore, lots more to contemplate if only exploited.