John Edgerton as Paul Carmen Ejogo as Sarah Kelvin Harrison Jr as Travis Christopher Abbott as Will Riley Keough as Kim
Release Date
2017
Language(s)
English
Running Time
91 minutes
This is a movie I’ve seen three separate times and come away with a different interpretation of its themes each time. There’s multiple ideas I have stretching from the logistics of the plot to what thematic idea the movie most strongly ties into. None of these theories are more or less correct than the other, because the movie is intentionally ambiguous. Shults has said as much in interviews. If the idea of not having a “proper” answer irritates you, then you might want to skip the movie. On the other hand, if you’re someone who loves being forced to think and re-visit your previous interpretations, this is the movie for you. It’s slow and and purposely ambiguous, constantly acting provocative, but never pulling the trigger in giving you a coherent answer. I say this because advertising for the movie makes it seem like it’s going to be this cool post-apocalyptic creature-feature of some sorts and it’s not. The real “it” , no matter what it really is, is just a stand in for darker human thoughts and ideas.
The movie follows a family of three: Paul, the father; Sarah, the wife; Travis, the son. They live in a post-apocalyptic world ravaged by a disease that necessitates the infected be killed and then burned. The family is incredibly secure about ensuring their safety. As they meet more people and things start to go bump in the night, everyone’s suspicions rise and the misery starts to ratchet up. The movie is dark and things linger in the background. The camera cuts just when threads of the story begin to get just a bit less ambiguous . It gives the movie a frantic, uncertain vibe. Everyone’s character and their respective performance add to the mystery. All of them have understandable motivations and no one ever feels malicious. The element of fear is always present, so when revelations happen you get why everyone is so on edge. By the end of the movie, I was uncertain of who did what to whom and the feeling hasn’t changed on re-watches.
This is a tough movie to watch because it almost feels like a deep dive into peoples worst fears , the fears that paralyze action and cause social disintegration when they become dominant. Add on to that the natural decline in resources and you have a nice little state of nature. On my first view, I thought the movie was an allegory for the pitfalls of the Hobbesian state. For the unfamiliar it goes something like this – people are inherently savage and are motivated by a survival instinct. In a world without rules and assurances, they strive to maintain a hold on their resources. This leads to a state of perpetual violence because any other person is a threat to those resources and thereby the initial agents survival. Eventually, people, sick of living in constant fear, come together and form a government where a single authority figure, aptly named the Leviathan, determines what is and isn’t allowed. The movie feels like an instantiation of this larger theory and an examination of how it would eventually play out. It also feels topical given the global rise in nationalism and stirring of xenophobic fear of the Other. In a world where we’re constantly fed ideas that people from elsewhere are dangerous ,discussions like this are even more valuable. Should we be cautious and what are the costs of being too ready to eliminate difference?
What sets the movie apart from other post-apocalyptic movies is the sense of unknown. It’s established early on that the succumbing to the disease transforms you, but that transformation isn’t explained. The impact of it is hinted to be so awful that the characters are willing to drop anyone who even hints at having it. It makes you think about what it could be that’s so bad. Is it related to the night? Maybe, maybe not because the night is usually dominated by nightmare sequences. They’re shocking, but they’re not clear and leave their interpretation up to you. The movie is edited so that no definite answer can be reached. Everything blends into each other so you’re left to determine what’s real and whats fantasy. Obviously some theories seem more valid and others feel like wild conjecture, but the story is open to a lot. As such, the movie has immense re-watch value because you can always get something out of it, even if that something leaves you feeling misanthropic. This is the kind of movie you watch with friends who like to really get into making theories, because the subject matter and its presentation naturally lend themselves to being interpreted in different ways. On the other hand, if you like solid answers, the movie can come off as jerking you around. I only started to really appreciate it my third time and I think it’s one of movies that grows on you.
Given all of that, my issue with the movie is it I think it doesn’t go far enough. I’m fine with getting lost in a maze trying to figure out what’s going on, but I can’t help but feel it can come off as a bit dull the first time watching it. Unless you’re actively playing with a subtext and trying to view the movie through that lens, the whole thing can come off as hard to remember. The feelings it generates are certainly visceral, but the ambiguous storytelling makes it hard to remember finer details if you’re taking the story seriously at face value.
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TLDR
It Comes at Night is a puzzling look into the darkest parts of the human psyche. If you like slow, atmosphere driven, open-to-interpretation horror you need to give this a watch. There are no routine jump scares or straightforward plot threads here.
Rating
9.3/10
Grade
A
Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
A view of the neighborhood. The camera pulls in through a window… …which is revealed to be the window of the Amityville residence’s attic. Drew (Shannon Cook), the Warren’s technical assistant, sets up the camera’s in the attic. The camera glides through a window frame in the infamous Amityville household. The attic the window sits in is outfitted with equipment meant to detect the paranormal.
A view of a suburban neighborhood transforms into a more intimate encounter as the camera glides from the street through a window pane into the attic of a specific house – the Amityville residence. When Drew (Shannon Cook), the Warren’s technician shows up in the room to set up a camera, it becomes apparent that the duo is here attempting to solve the infamous Amityville case.
Lorraine(Vera Farmiga) and Ed(Patrick Wilson) get ready to investigate the Amityville house. The camera pushes in on Lorraine(Vera Farmiga)Lorraine(Vera Farmiga) gets ready to open her eyes. As Lorraine(Vera Farmiga) opens her eyes, the camera pulls out. Lorraine(Vera Farmiga) is revealed to be in the same room, but the lighting is much darker now. Lorraine(Vera Farmiga) seems to be the only agent in the room as Ed(Patrick Wilson) and the others are “grayed” out. Wan lets the camera glide into and out of Lorraine in much the same manner as it glided through the Amityville house earlier. Both entities seem to possess an spectral agency, a tie to the world beyond. Lorraine moves from her body and demonstrates her psychic powers are similar to astral projection.
On cue, both Ed (Patrick Wilson) and Lorraine Warren (Vera Farmiga) appear seated in the living room, setting up a séance with the family residing in the abode. The camera slowly pushes in on Lorraine. Her eyes are lit differently indicating she’s engaging in her spiritual sight. Eventually, the camera settles on a close-up of her face. Her eyes open, and the camera pulls back out to a darkened room. Lorraine is the only person in the area who still retains a vitality, a spark that gives her a color that the others in the room no longer possess.
Lorraine’s (Vera Farmiga) astral projection walks around the Amityville residence as her corporeal body sits with Ed (Patrick Wilson) and the house’s residents. Lorraine(Vera Farmiga) sees two of the victims. The woman in the pair looks away. There’s a jump cut and the woman stares at Lorraine’s direction. Lorraine(Vera Farmiga) loads her invisible gun and shoots the woman. There’s a jump cut and the woman lays dead next to her husband. The woman’s photograph. Wan employs jump cuts to represent the discontinuity of Lorraine’s experience. She’s roleplaying the Amityville murders, but the manner in which she does so indicates that she’s not fully in control with how the session will play out. To get access to the full picture, she’ll need to re-live the entire event.
Her astral form exits the room, leaving her body behind with the others in the realm of the living. She goes up the stairs and is met with a couple, a man and a woman, in their bedroom. The man has a gash in his body. The woman is sitting facing away from Lorraine. Suddenly, the film cuts, jumping forward. The woman stares at Lorraine and interrogates her. In response, Lorraine reloads an imaginary gun and shoots the woman. Another jump cut and the woman lays dead next to her husband. A close-up of her visage on a family photograph appears briefly. Without saying anything, it’s apparent that Lorraine is using her psychic vision to roleplay the events of the Amityville massacre, allowing herself to be possessed by the events of the house in an attempt to figure everything out.
Lorraine(Vera Farmiga) is “possessed” by the real killer as she investigates what really happened. Lorraine(Vera Farmiga) is horrified by the deaths she reenacts. Lorraine(Vera Farmiga) expresses her discontent in the corporeal realm as Ed (Patrick Wilson) looks over concerned. As Lorraine walks along a mirror, it’s revealed that she’s possessed by the actual killer. She’s “wearing” his experience so to speak, and once he’s done with his murders, she breaks out of the trance in shock. Her devastation ripples through from her astral body to her corporeal one.
More murders follow in similar fragmented manner until Lorraine jolts in horror at the scenarios she’s been forced to replay. Her emotions break through from the astral realm to the realm of the living, as her physical body reacts in much the same way. Ed, worried about his wife’s distress, asks her to call off the endeavor and return to her body. But Lorraine refuses and seeks to carry on.
A child with white eyes stares at Lorraine. Lorraine(Vera Farmiga) follows the child. Lorraine(Vera Farmiga) walks and reveals a host of ghost children. Lorraine(Vera Farmiga) is caught by surprise as the ghost children all stare in one direction. Lorraine(Vera Farmiga) investigates the object of the children’s’ gaze. Lorraine(Vera Farmiga) pulls off a cover to reveal a mirror. Lorraine(Vera Farmiga) notices a demonic Nun (Bonnie Aarons) behind her in the mirror’s reflection. Lorraine(Vera Farmiga)looks behind her and sees nothing. Lorraine(Vera Farmiga) notices the Nun (Bonnie Aarons) has stepped closer to her.Lorraine(Vera Farmiga) is choked out by the Nun. But the Nun’s hands dissapear and become Lorraine’s(Vera Farmiga) own hands. The nun conjures up a vision of a man being impaled for Lorraine to observe. Lorraine follows a specter downstairs and is shown a mirror. In her reflection, she notices another figure gazing back at her. Every time she turns to check for the figure behind her, nothing shows up. But when she turns back to the mirror, the figure, a demonic Nun, gets closer and closer. Finally, the creature steps out of the mirror and attacks Lorraine. But the attack abates as the hands around Lorraine’s neck inexplicably become hers once again. But the nun isn’t done with its target. It conjures up a vision of a man being impaled which sends Lorraine into a stack of abject despair.
She follows a spectral child who leads her to a host of ghost kids. The group stares at an object which Lorraine disrobes and reveals to be a mirror. A figure in the glass’s reflection stares at her. Lorraine turns back to confront the figure. There’s nothing. She turns back to look at the mirror. Now the figure, a demonic Nun (Bonnie Aarons) is staring directly at her. Another turn back. Nothing. When she turns her head back to the mirror, the Nun appears outside of it and proceeds to choke her.
But the Nun’s hands are then revealed to be Lorraine’s hands after all. Where did the creature go and what did it want? Suddenly, Lorraine sees a vision conjured by the Nun. A man is impaled in brutal fashion. While the visage of the figure is unknown to us, it’s clear that the demonstration means something to Lorraine.
Lorraine(Vera Farmiga) screams due to the vision. Lorraine(Vera Farmiga) wakes up in the corporeal realm screaming. Lorraine(Vera Farmiga) tells Ed (Patrick WIlson) of the depths of the depravity she’s seen. Lorraine wakes up in the realm of the living, revealing to her husband whatever vision she saw was the furthest she ever wanted to go in their encounters. The stakes are raised, but their depths are unknown.
She screams at its site as the film cuts from the astral world back to the corporeal world. The camera pulls out from her face, indicating that her encounter with the abyss is over for now. She reaches out to her husband and indicates that her experience is the “closest to hell” she ever wants to get to. The two stare at each other and the frame freezes.
A text crawl appears and explains that the Amityville case, the case we were just presented, serves as a good benchmark for the case The Conjuring 2 to explore. This time instead of the United States, the Warren’s are called to Enfield, England to deal with a haunting troubling the Hodgson family. Thus, the story proper can start; the stakes and rules of the spectral world are fully set.
In similar fashion to The Conjuring, director James Wan’s sequel follows the Warrens as they attempt to exorcist the spirits tormenting an innocent family. The story even adopts a similar structure as its predecessor and leaps back and forth between Warrens and the family they’re helping out, developing both sets of characters to raise the stakes for the finale. However, in The Conjuring 2′s case, the narrative regarding the family in question is far more focused and multifaceted. There’s a clear presentation of the family’s inner dynamics and an explanation for why and how they react to the adversities they face in the way they do.
The most important difference between the two films, however, is that this entry demonstrates and ties the nature of the Hodgson’s family’s empirical woes to their supernatural struggles, thereby giving a much-needed depth to the spectral spectacles Wan chooses to employ. [1] This is in reference to my discussion of Stephen King’s analysis of The Amityville Horror in my The Conjuring review. Check it out there for more context. While specters and demons are frightening in a visceral sense, real terror arises when those creatures represent something larger than themselves, a symbol of the more insidious terrors lying beneath the surface. Here the source of the family’s discord is tied to their newly missing father figure who left the Hodgson’s for another family, so the nature of the haunting they experience is that sense of abandonment come to life in ghostly form.
Additionally, as the opening demonstrates, the film’s focus on exploring and providing a more robust metaphysical explanation of the supernatural buttresses theatrical moments which would otherwise deflate the tension. By choosing to delve into the metaphysical aspect of the sub-genre in a manner more akin to his opaquer Insidious franchise’s “The Further”, Wan is able to provide a vantage point by which to interpret the seemingly random supernatural happenings in a manner which strengthens the film’s themes as opposed to feeling haphazard. However, instead of basking in explanation or set-up like he does in that franchise, Wan chooses to demonstrate the rules of supernatural engagement in this film via the camera movements. Push-ins indicate the presence of the supernatural and push-outs demonstrate the resolution of that presence. Consequently, Wan utilizes both camera moves in relation to both persons and locations to clue the viewer into when something otherworldly is happening. On top of serving as visual motif, the movement allows Wan to employ match cuts to hide and allow for stellar in-camera tricks. Just like Juraj Herz does in The Cremator, Wan pushes in on faces to disguise transformations in the set, seamlessly allowing the film to transition from and to areas in slick fashion.
These changes on the initial film’s formula give the sequel a springboard to jump off of which prevents the experience from feeling ham-fisted. Thus, for the most part, Wan gets to have his cake and eat it too; the theatricality and kinetic frenzy of his direction is given ample room to express itself without ever undermining the emotionally resonant story it’s meant to help tell. As a sequel, The Conjuring 2 does everything it should: it expands the scope of the original story in believable fashion while remaining consistent with the feeling and polish fans have come to expect.
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TLDR
The Conjuring 2 is the rare sequel that exceeds its original, improving on not only the narrative but also the cinematic presentation of the same. There’s a care given to developing the characters, both the family being haunted and the Warrens who seek to assist, that gives the film a depth that sustains it even during the more grandiose moments. While fans of the original will surely delight in the machinations presented here, the film’s more pronounced ambitions, namely demonstrated via its camera movements, might win over viewers who found the previous entry too simple for their tastes.
Rating
9.6/10
Grade
A+
Go to Page 2for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3to view this review’s progress report .
Thomas Jane as Wilfred James Dylan Schmid as Henry James Molly Parker as Arlette James
Release Date
2017
Language (s)
English
Running Time
101 minutes
As someone who actually enjoyed 1922 (the novella), I was fairly excited when I saw that Netflix was going to distribute the adaptation. I’m even happier to announce that this adaptation is not only one of the better King adaptations out and about, but is also an effective horror movie in its own right. The story follows Wilfred James, a farmer whose way of life is under threat when his wife, Arlette, threatens to sell their farm land and leave for the city. Wilfred views land as an extension of ones worth and pride. Losing it is no real option. It gives him both the ability to take care of his family and represents the only thing he can leave his son, an extension of his name, and thereby another source of pride. Fearing that his wife will make good on her word, he decides to commit the cardinal sin and permanently remove her from the situation. However, he soon learns that everyone pays for their actions one way or another.
The framing device the movie uses to tie together all its events is Wilfred in the present day recounting his experiences fighting his wife, deciding to get rid of her, and the subsequent horrifying experiences he has to go through. The movie is a case study in the deterioration that accompanies sin. Even if no one is around to judge you, you know what you did. Your sub-conscious never forgets even if you can put your actions out of your mind. The way the framing device cuts in with the progression of the main story accentuates this feeling by giving the audience first-hand feedback on how the actions ended up impacting Wilfred in the future. As a result, watching him deal with the guilt of his action is both satisfying thematically and visually. The further he falls into the cycle of guilt , the more his world starts to visually crumble. You can always tell the state of his psyche based on the environment around him. It doubles as a cool representation of his inner thoughts and a source of visual scares.
Thomas Jane does a great job as Wilfred. You can see his resolve in his voice and demeanor. He comes off as someone on edge who’s forcing himself to stay rigid and coherent for the sake of his pride. Everything is worth it if he can succeed in his job as a farmer and in his duties as a father. His lineage determines his value as a human being and anything that could harm it is an attack on his very sense of self. It’s why his guilt manifests in such a strong and profound way. It’s because his perception of his worth has shifted, even if he can’t immediately tell it has.
My issues with the movie have more so to do with the original source material and not the adaptation itself. I think the adaptation does a great job at conveying the same sense of paranoia the novella had. The issue is that like the novella, there are some story moves that ruin the ambiguity of whether or not supernatural elements are actually at play. The story wants it to be ambiguous, but the way that it progresses makes that an impossibility. I wish the adaptation just edited certain moments in a different order because it would resolve the ambiguity issue. I also think there are certain additional sequences in the story that hurt the theme and characterization of Wilfred. I was sad to see them kept in the film adaptation. But if you enjoyed the full novella, then this should definitely please you.
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TLDR
1922 is a twisted tale chronicling a man’s descent into depravity. By prioritizing his interests and being unwilling to compromise, he ends up slowly losing his sense of self. Though the ending kind of misses the mark, the movie should satisfy fans of dramas and psychological horrors.
Rating
9.2/10
Grade
A
Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Maika Monroe as Jay Height Keir Gilchrist as Paul Bolduan Jake Weary as Hugh
Release Date
2014
Language(s)
English
Running Time
100 minutes
Wow, my relationship with this movie is complicated. The first time I watched it, it was after its initial release in the US (2015). I had heard a ton of rave reviews about it and was super hyped. I remember feeling really bored by the end of the movie and cast it away as being over hyped. Fast forward a few years, and I ended up randomly seeing the movie on Netflix and decided to watch it again. This time I enjoyed the movie more, but still didn’t think it was that great. Finally, as I was making my best horror movies of the past decade list (coming soon I promise), I decided to give the movie one more watch and ended up genuinely loving it. All the details I had never paid attention to before like the cinematography and the score came into focus and I could appreciate the movie in its entirety as opposed to just honing in on the stuff I don’t like.
The film follows Jay, a high-school student, who receives a sexually transmitted supernatural curse of sorts. She’s told by her transmitter early on that the titular “it” will follow her to the ends of the earth, taking on any form it can to get to her. “It” can only be seen by her and other people who have been recipients of the curse. She can escape “it” for moments at a time, because “it” can only walk slowly towards her. To temporarily get rid of the curse, she has to pass it on to someone else. With barely any time to get a grasp on this knowledge, Jay is tossed out and forced to reckon with the horrifying situation she finds herself in.
The inherent idea of “it” is terrifying to think about. STD/STI’s are scary enough but “it” takes those fears and personifies them in the shape of something that uniquely haunts each victim. Adolescence is the time for a lot of early sexual exploration which is scary enough. It’s an act that makes you vulnerable to an other and to think that someone would willingly expose you to an ailment in order to survive makes the experience even more harrowing. However, voluntarily passing on the curse uses sex as a kind of social glue, giving it a connective tissue. It’s allegorical for how we begin to approach sexual relations. Yes, it can be scary and harrowing but it can also create positive tethers that prove conducive. It’s not just sex though – sex is only representative of the most intimate form of opening up with each other, so the movie can be interpreted at a more general level of the way we interact with one another. Every time we meet someone new we open ourselves up to a range of interactions. Despite the risks, there’s a lot of positives that can come from opening up. It’s a multifaceted message that allows for hope and enables genuine terror.
If that’s not your cup of tea and you just want to see actual scary moments, It Follows has them, but they’re interspersed throughout the movie. “It” violently brutalizes its victims when it finally reaches them and the aftermath of its encounter is presented within the first scene of the movie. Watching our protagonists interact with “it” make the endeavor feel hopeless and you genuinely get scared whenever “it” is in the proximity of the latest person in the chain of the curse.
Now that the story stuff is out of the way, I have to say the production values on this movie are through the roof. It’s an audio visual treat and you should watch it just to have the sensory experience. Mike Gioulakis knocks the visuals out of the park. You can pause the movie at any point and get a picturesque visual worthy of serving as a screensaver or being printed and placed in a frame. Every time “it” comes into the screen, the tension becomes palpable. There were multiple times where I could feel myself gripping my knuckles. The synthy score by Disasterpeace reminds me a lot of John Carpenters music and gives the movie this cool hypnotic feeling. It’s amazing just how different every track feels and I’ve listened to the album a lot while writing or reading. I absolutely adore the title track and how its incorporated into the movie. Every time I hear it the hairs on my arms automatically start prickling up, so I’d say its association with “it” was well established.
Now that we’ve gotten past the good stuff, let’s tackle my biggest issue with the movie- the characters. I couldn’t tell you any of the personality traits of the characters outside of some small facts about Jay. That’s right I said facts, not personality traits. Jay and her group of friends all feel incredibly stale. It’s not because they lack dialogue or chances for interaction. In fact, I enjoyed some of the conversations the group has with each other. It’s just all the characters have the same “gray” disposition. None of them are particularly energized and they come off as low energy. This compounded with the slow pacing creates the perceptual issue that nothing’s really happening, which is far from the truth. It’s not even that the performances are bad. For example, Weary’s performance as Hugh, the individual who gives Jay the curse to begin with, is great. His motivations come off as justified and scummy, which is exactly how he needs to be. It’s more so that characters are never told to approach situations with a lot of levity. There’s no real opportunity for high octane moments given the way everything plays out. This means the characters only have a few range of emotions to go through which makes certain sequences feel more boring than they should be. It’s an issue that bugs me, but not nearly enough to make me discount the movie like I used to.
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TLDR
It Follows is a treat on your eyes and ears. The idea of a sexually transmitted curse is terrifying, but the nuanced way the movie utilizes it to open up discourse on the way humans open up to each other is beautiful. This is a slow paced movie that relies on atmosphere so if you want jump scares or a lot of action, you may want to skip this. If you enjoy slow burn/arthouse movies then you might really like this,.
Rating
9.3/10
Grade
A
Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
John Krasinski as Lee Abbott Emily Blunt as Evelyn Abott Millicent Simmonds as Regan Abbott Noah Jupe as Marcus Abott
Release Date
2018
Language(s)
English
Running Time
90 minutes
A Quiet Place is that rare horror movie that unites both mainstream and cinematic horror fans. The story and its presentation is coherent on its surface level and is easy to follow so it doesn’t come off as confusing or ambiguous. The scary monster in the movie is revealed early on and isn’t kept hidden away from the camera the whole time. This makes it easy to digest for people who aren’t used to the weird places horror can go to. However, Krasinski doesn’t sacrifice artistic integrity in his pursuit of reaching a broader audience. The movie has gorgeous shots, genuinely scary scenes that aren’t cheap jump scares, and some real emotional moments.
The story follows the Abott family as they try and survive in a post-apocalyptic world over-run by terrifying alien creatures that hunt through their sense of hearing. In a world where the smallest noise has the possibility of leading to death, the family is forced to adapt to the world around them. I love how intelligent each member of the family is. None of them feel like they have plot armor and most of their actions make sense. In particular, the children, Regan and Marcus, come off as incredibly grounded and developed. Despite, their post apocalyptic grooming, they’re still developing kids with lots of growing left to do. They both strike a balance between competent survivor and child. In particular, Millicent Simmonds does a great job in portraying a teen angst and sadness against the post apocalyptic background. I was surprised at how effective it was. Normally, something like that would grind my gears.
I love how effective the creatures are in the movie. They’re used consistently so they never feel like a plot convenience. It’s demonstrated that they hone in noise, but that they don’t necessarily respond to every noise. This means that accidental noises aren’t a death sentence but are still terrifying because of their potential risks. Subtle details about the creatures’ nature and abilities are littered through the movie and I was astounded with how many clues I missed from my first viewing. I understand feeling frustrated at the early reveal of the creature. You’re not supposed to “show the shark” early because it ruins the expectation and build-up to the creature. However, I don’t mind it in the case of this movie. The decision to show them early on is done intentionally because the focus of the movie is the family and the way they grow and develop with each other in their new environment. The creatures are only a facet of the family’s respective story, and as a result they’re not the main focus of the movie.
As you’d expect from a horror movie about noise, sound design is on point. The movie actually refrains from awful jump scares and slowly builds up to its scares. Yes, there are jump scares, but they’re all justified given the nature of the plot and the way the situations come about. It’s sure to satisfy people who want to be scared and not annoy people who are put off by the horror genres increasing reliance on them. The movie is quiet for the most part, so when sound does come up its meaningful. It’s why I recommend watching this with absolutely no distractions. You want to be fully immersed so your ears can go through the experience with you. The score is used sparingly, but when it does come in its always purposeful. It always suits the mood and accentuates the emotional beat at the heart of the scene.For example, when A Quiet Life starts playing during that scene in the third act, I could feel my heartstrings being tugged at.
The movie succeeds because it gets us invested in our lead family. Despite the problems they go through and the situation they find themselves in, they never really stop loving one another. In a world ravaged by alien creatures, love is the one constant they have that can serve as a source of meaning. The way the movie tackles the love between a parent and a child and the lengths one party will go for another is touching and is something a lot of us can relate to. It’s not deep or ambiguous, but it’s poignant and resonant. This is the kind of movie that’ll make you hug your loved ones a bit tighter afterwards.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
A Quiet Place is the rare mainstream horror movie that critics and audience members can enjoy together. It’s scary and coherent on the surface, but is emotionally poignant in the way it approaches its subject matter. If you can get past a few “why?” moments, you’re in for a meaningful and entertaining trip.
Rating
9.3/10
Grade
A
Go to Page 2 to view this review’s progress report .
Neil Maskell as Jay Michael Smiley as Gal MyAnna Burning as Shel Emma Fryer as Fiona
Release Date
2011
Language(s)
English
Running Time
95 minutes
I remember one rainy day in 2013 I was scrolling through the internet looking for a horror movie to watch that would be scratch a different itch from the supernatural movies I was getting used to seeing. I happened upon a Kill List recommendation, saw it was a crime film, and expected to see a typical psychological thriller. I was not ready for the ride I was getting into. This movie is a violent, adrenaline-fueled crime movie that really pushes the genre into new places. After re-watching this movie years later, I can only say my appreciation for its creativity has gone up.
The movie follows Jay and Gal, former soliders who have started to adapt to life back at home. The former finds it incredibly difficult to re-adjust to civilian life and his inability to go out and provide for the family has caused strains in his domestic life. Thankfully for him, his friend Gal comes in with a hitmen job posting. Jay and Gal receive a series of contracts and go out on a mystery laced journey, killing different seemingly disconnected individuals.
I love how the movie approaches its protagonists’ relationship to violence. Gal is more reserved , wanting to do the work because it gives him an source of income and he’d be good at it. He doesn’t want anything more to do with the job than the job itself. On the other hand, Jay is excited for the work because he misses the feeling of being in combat and persecuting the other. The idea of finding a scumbag, of being able to execute a vision of justice by taking out problematic individuals , in an almost ritualistic fervor is what drives him. Money is just the cherry on the top of it . The juxtaposition of their drives and the way their friendship operates in light of certain revelations is interesting and additionally serves as a referendum on the way that people decide to be jury,judge, and executioner in their actions. The discussion becomes more interesting as the movie delves into the identity of the contractors and the scope of their operations. As more things become revealed, the scope of this discussion becomes more ambiguous and open to interpretation. It’s fun to talk about with friends because everyone can come away with a different meaning for why everything happens.
The movie keeps the audience on its toes in how it approaches its depictions of violence. With a name like Kill List, you know that bodies are going to hit the floor. The question is how gruesome are those moments going to be. I read that Wheatley wanted to maintain a mystery about the way violence would be incorporated which is why every instantiation of it plays differently. There are cut-aways that imply the action have happened. There are also very deliberate, maddening displays of violence that will stay in your head for a while. It’s done for the sake of developing the discourse around the themes, not just for the sake of creating a visual spectacle. It manages to be visceral for the people who like to see more gruesome things and also gives people who want to imagine the depictions of violence room to enjoy things. That multifaceted approach to the issue makes it easy to watch in bigger settings. I’ve found the movie to be a good way to convert more mainstream horror/thriller fans into more out there horror movies, so if you’ve been itching to share that arthouse movie to a buddy, try this out first.
There are certain twists in the third act that I love. I can’t talk about any of them for fear of spoiling the movie, and I urge you to watch the movie without watching any trailers about it. There are some awesome sequences that I can still vividly remember. It’s shocking and should please a lot of people. However, it feels a bit rushed and that’s in spite of certain bits of foreshadowing in earlier scenes. I would have loved if the movie had developed these later elements in with the earlier discussion of violence to create a more nuanced take.
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TLDR
Kill List is a innovative crime horror that pushes the genre into a cool new direction.It’s an interesting look into violence and the way we orient ourselves in relation to it. If you want to show your friends more arthouse horror movies and they’re already into thriller/psychological horror movies then this may serve a sa good transition point.
Rating
9.3/10
Grade
A
Go to Page 2 to view this review’s progress report .
Taika Waititi as Viago Jemaine Clement as Vladislav Jonathan Brugh as Deacon Ben Fransham as Petyr
Release Date
2014
Language(s)
English
Running Time
85 minutes
This mockumentary about vampires is less a horror movie and more a comedy making it the perfect kind of flick to show to friends who despise anything that’s too scary, while keeping with a horror aesthetic. The “documentary” follows a group of four vampires -Viago, Vladislav, Deacon, and Petyr – as they go through their day to day activities as creatures of the night who have adapted to modern human society.
Each member of the vampire flat is distinctive and funny in their own way. I love how much I can remember about each of their personalities, which is just an indication of how well they’re written out. Viago is responsible, romantic, and the opposite of assertive. His calm personality completely goes against the idea of what we think a vampire is which makes watching him deal with bloodthirsty matters all the funnier. Petyr is a Nosferatu like vampire who’s completely traditional but hangs out with the “youngsters” as an older respected member. Watching his modern interactions with them is cute and endearing. Deacon is rebellious and feels exactly like a teenager who’s spent a bit too much time watching prank videos on YouTube. Watching his take on human pranks with vampire twists keeps the gags fresh and unique. Finally, Vladislav (my favorite) is like a Bram Stoker kind of Dracula, but with a lot of humorous gimmicks that keep him feeling like a dark absurdity as opposed to something scary. As you would imagine, their personalities lend to a plethora of interesting conversations and watching them convene about affairs and deal with each other is simultaneously reminiscent of the way we talk to our own friends but absurd with how far the vampires take certain things.
Waititi and Clement really have a knack on pop culture understandings of vampires and take great liberty in accentuating those perceptions to make truly memorable comedic moments. Werewolves and other creatures of the night show up throughout the movie and are made to play their own respective comedic beats. The interactions between all of them feels like a love letter to creature features all around. I love how seamless the creature world has been integrated into the human world. For example, vampires have to follow rules about being invited in, so they have certain vampire run locations where a bouncer will greet them in , fulfilling the rule. Moments like these give the movie a genuine novelty. Every interaction between a monster and a human is bound to tickle someone’s funny bone and there’s more than one moment that had me laughing to tears.
At the heart of the movie is a story about judging people , in this case creatures, unfairly. Often times we approach situations with a certain prejudice which colors our interpretation of why they’ve done certain actions or who they “really” are. We can’t begin to understand one another unless we actively reach across the aisle and try and see eye to eye. The movie explores this idea multiple times, never coming as preachy or corny. It’s just an authentic feel good time about trying to see the best in each other.
I only have one big issue with the movie. To some of ya’ll it might come off as a bit nit-picky, but for me it made the grounded realistic feeling of the movie a lot harder to get into. The movie goes along with the idea that vampires can’t be captured in mirrors because they don’t have reflections. There’s even a gag about it confirming that its “cannon”. However, if that’s the case then the documentary crew wouldn’t be able to record the group at all. Given how clever the movie was about everything else, I thought they’d either make a joke about how the mirror thing was an absurd human myth or come up with some roundabout way of circumventing it (ex: mirrors traditionally used silver which was bad for the vampires as evidence by the movie, so the cameras don’t use silver mirrors…etc ). I can forgive it because it’s the only big issue with the documentary style, which otherwise looks spot-on and like a convincing documentation of supernatural phenomena as if it was occurring in real life, but it stands out given how immaculate every other aspect of the movie feels.
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TLDR
What We Do in the Shadows is a humorous interpretation to the monsters that lurk in our nightmares. The way it humanizes vampires, werewolves, and other creatures of the night while retaining the characteristics that make them memorable to us is genuinely impressive. The characters are engaging and the humor really hits, so feel free to show this movie at events. It’s a real crowd pleaser.
Rating
9.0/10
Grade
A
Go to Page 2 to view this review’s progress report .
Kika Magalhaes as Francisca Olivia Bond as Young Francisca Paul Nazak as Father Will Brill as Charlie Diana Agostini as Mother
Release Date
2016
Language(s)
English, Portuguese
Running Time
77 minutes
It’s still hard for me to believe that the person who wrote and directed this also co-wrote and directed The Grudge, but after re-watching this movie I’m willing to chalk it up to an anomaly (I’ll re-watch Piercing to be sure.) This black and white horror movie is short, sweet, and to the point. It depicts a young girl, Francisca, undergoing a horrifying life changing event which triggers a psychotic break. What follows is her attempt at creating a new locus of meaning.
The plot progress through a series of chapters, each chronicling a different developmental stage of Francisca’s life. The first chapter looks at the traumatic event that causes our lead to experience a break with reality. She experiences a profound sense of alienation within herself and with the world around her, almost as if the anchor between her and the social world had been severed. As a result, she desperately looks for a replacement – either for the anchor or a replacement for the feeling the anchor provided. Most actions she ends up taking can be traced back to some earlier characteristic or moment from the movie, so the progression feels earned as opposed to just grandiose for the sake of being provocative.
Bond and Magalhaes do an amazing job as Francisca. The former portrays the slip into psychosis with natural ease like she genuinely has a different interpretation of the rules of the world. It’s disturbing at how childlike she comes off as she performs some haunting actions. The latter actress turns everything up a notch, so when things get even more demented it still all feels believable. She’s somehow “innocent” and shy, but the twists in her psyche are ever-present in everything from her actions to her dialogue. It’s like watching someone who exists in their own little world that only tangentially borrows with and interacts with our own.
The story is disturbing without being a spectacle in end of itself. Grotesque depictions of violence never happen. Instead, they’re hinted at through clever camera movement and cuts. We don’t see it happen, but imagining the brutality of events gives the movie a more transcendent sense of horror. If you’re not someone who likes to imagine the terrifying sequences the movie might not do it for you. It’s tasteful in its execution of the macabre, which gives it a clinical feeling. That juxtaposed against the sheer absurdity of Francisca’s life and actions keeps the movie feeling nauseating. You can feel the wrongness seep underneath your skin.
This is complimented by the black-and-white color palette. It gives the movie a timeless feel and accentuates its feeling as a clinical study of an analysand experiencing psychosis. It also doesn’t feel like a film-student gimmick. It’s purposeful in how it thematically reinforces the above and beautiful in the way its utilized to create stunning dynamic shots. There’s more than one slow pan across a room that reveals something unnerving made even worse by Francisca’s almost nonchalant interaction with the same. The lack of color and dynamic presentation forces you to pay attention to the disturbing visual as opposed to escaping in something more pleasant.
My only issue with the movie is how the third act /chapter progresses. Certain sequences occur that don’t match up with previous sequences from the other chapters. I didn’t care much about those issues in the moment, but looking back it’s really strange how the events of the story culminate into the climax. I don’t think it betrays the themes of the movie or its analysis of alienation and psychosis , and it definitely leaves an impact on you. It just feels like the earlier portions of it should have never happened from a “logical” standpoint.
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TLDR
The Eyes of My Mother works as a perverse clinical analysis of alienation and psychosis. It’s dark and oozing with a macabre absurdism that permeates its leads every action. There are disturbing scenes, but most of the horror works on the level of imagination and grappling with the decisions the movie makes. If you have an open mind, or like chilling psychological horror movies that focus on the act as opposed to the spectacle make sure to watch this. At 77 minutes only, it’s not like you have a lot to lose.
Rating
9.7/10
Grade
A+
Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Colin Farrell as Steven Murphy Barry Keoghan as Martin Nicole Kidman as Anna Murphy Raffey Cassidy as Kim Murphy Sunny Suljic as Bob Murphy
Release Date
2017
Language(s)
English
Running Time
121 minutes
Saying I love this movie might be an understatement. When I first saw this back in 2017, I was left completely floored. This movie goes dark, nihilistic places but is somehow hilarious in an awful twisted way. It’s one of a kind and had me on the edge of my seats up till the credits started to roll. Watching it again for this review only reminded me of how amazing it all was and I promise I’ll watch more of Yorgos’s stuff in the future (starting with The Lobster) .
The plot summary will be sparse, because watching the mystery unravel is the best part. Steven Murphy is a renowned surgeon, living the bourgeoisie American life. He has a gorgeous exorbitant house and a nice idyllic family life. After he starts a friendship with Martin, an unnerving high school student, his family mysteriously starts falling ill. As he struggles to find a way to bring them back to good health, he’s forced to confront his past and make some truly outrageous decisions.
Without spoiling too much, the movie is about revenge and responsibility. When someone is wronged, how can we rectify the scales? Who should be responsible and how should things play out? The movie doesn’t stray away from some dark explorations into these areas and watching the characters grapple with the weight of their actions is both disturbing and comedic. There’s just something funny about the lengths people will go through to deny the truth of what’s going on in front of them, and Yorgos knows exactly how to depict that absurdity in a way that’s poignant and sardonic. It’s telling of the human condition- in particular the American bourgeoisie lifestyle – in how people are willing trade bits and pieces of themselves to keep a sense of social coherence/status. People are so preoccupied with inflating their sense of self, that they lose focus of the the important things, trading their humanity for some ludicrous fantasy.
You could pause the movie at random (most of the time) and end up with a nice picturesque moment. Yorgos knows how to create tension and mood with proper shot composition. There are gorgeous tracking shots that accentuate drama. Most of the time the camera zooms in or out very slowly to show the characters relation to the situation around them. Often times, it feels like it’s highlighting isolation and their attempts at projecting outside of that. The score only amplifies this feeling. There are boisterous orchestral moments that make the movie feel like a classic, and modern touches like a cover of Ellie Goulding’s Burn (which is horrifying but catchy).
Everyone’s performance is on point, but Barry Keoghan’s portrayal as Martin is something especially noteworthy. He’s creepy – all caps. He comes off a awkward initially, but as the plot progresses he becomes incredibly versatile. He’s menacing, honest, to-the-point, dry, nonchalant,serious and consistent at his core despite shifting among these moods. If he couldn’t balance the dead-pan, serious delivery of the lines, then a lot of more more memorable scenes wouldn’t have the same impact.
I only have a few problems with the movie. Some of the loftier plot elements feel a bit too “convenient” for me to accept without any question. They’re a bit too fantastical and feel at odds with the depth of realism in other areas. Furthermore, I wanted to understand some of the main drivers of the mystery in more depth, because I thought it could add and enhance the discussion of responsibility, but the film avoids that explanation. It becomes a bigger issue because the first act feels at odds with the conclusion of the movie without this explanation.
The characters also feel a bit odd. Don’t get me wrong. They’re memorable, distinct, and definitely all have moments where they shine. They’re just not relatable because they’re all odd, both as individuals and as interconnected units. Their characterization makes the themes of the movie pop out more , but make the horror harder to relate to.
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TLDR
The Killing of a Sacred Deer is a deep dive into the dark crevices of the bourgeoisie psyche. It explores themes of revenge, responsibility, and the practice of engaging in cognitive dissonance for social standings. Some of the more ambiguous elements hold the film back from fully exploring its potential, but it hardly matters. If you’re looking for a dark comedic drama with some absurdist moments, I implore you to check this one out.
Rating
9.7/10
Grade
A+
Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
A child is born. The villagers are nicely blocked. The father treks. The father journeys forward, framed in the background as lonely among the elements. The father approaches the enchantress. The enchantress (Melody Carrillo) extracts the illness. The enchantress (Melody Carrillo) sits framed by a triangle. The enchantress dissolves to the child with second sight. The child is returned to the forest. Spectral children surround the Beautiful child. The beautiful child (Giulia Doherty) looks at the audience. The title card appears in the triangle surrounded by the reach of the tress. The fairy tale of the “Beautiful Child” serves as the fictional heart of this fairy tale adaptation and and takes broad strokes from the fairy tale serving as the film’s source, Hansel and Gretel: a witch, a forest, a child being abandoned. Yet, this telling differs in that the source of malevolence is the child who stares at the audience once the story is done and the moral has been imparted. We know we should be wary of gifts, givers, and receivers before the title drops, framed in the triangle, warning us of the supernatural events to follow.
We open on a black frame as a narrator invites us to listen to her tale, a story which “holds a lesson” that “might keep” its childish listeners “safe.” This is the story of “the Beautiful Child with the little pink cap.”
We cut to a scene of labor. A child is born to a couple through great pain and we’re treated to beautiful shots of the environment (utilizing both depth and blocking to accentuate the milieu in highly evocative fashion) of her upbringing.
This child is ill and her father (Jonathan Delaney Tynan) seeks alliance with an enchantress (Melody Carrillo), a denizen of “darkness”, who can heal any ailment. Her father bravely trusts the powers of this iconic figure, one whose silhouetted presence in a distinctive triangle emphasizes her narrative importance and the extent of her domain. The framing of her reveal needs no other dialogue to highlight her power.
A treatment is given and an ooze is extracted from the child, the illness rendered corporeal; in its place, a gift is given: the child (Giulia Doherty) is granted “second sight.” The film marks this transition from the witch to the child with a wonderful, dream-like dissolve which emphasizes the mystical connection between the two figures.
The town, eager to hear their futures, is ultimately made uncomfortable by the girl who predicts their “bitter” ends, an emotional response which is only exacerbated by the manner in which the gifted child ensures her prophecies come through via her use of supernatural gifts ; she even goes so far as to execute her father, the man who braved everything in his journey to heal his daughter, by hypnotizing him into taking his own life.
The child is returned to the deep woods, an attempt to isolate and seal the darkness resulting from her presence. But the girl, far from powerless, acquires new “friends”, the undead resurrected, who surround her in lieu of her former town and family.
With the tale concluded, the narrator warns her audience to be wary of gifts, those who offer them, and the willing benefactors willing to take them.
Fittingly, the “Beautiful Child” stares menacingly towards the audience, a 4th-wall breaking shot which serves as a wonderful footnote to the nature of the monologue so far, affirming to the audience that the deconstruction of the fairy tale will start promptly as the evils lurking behind the fantastical framework of the narrative form will be allowed to break through.
We cut to black and travel upwards through the reaching limbs of crooked trees, an evocation of the forest which served as the point of abandonment and magical mystery, before the iconic triangle, the symbol of the powerful enchantress, pops up back in frame and captures the film’s name within its domain, a title, Gretel & Hansel, which inverses the order of its Grimm fairy tale counterpart, Hansel and Gretel.
Gretel (Sophia Lillis) walks through the woods as the camera tracks her. Gretel looks at her upside-down reflection in the water while contemplating. Hansel (Sam Leakey) and Gretel (Sophia Lillis) grunt at one another, a piggish affirmation of their relationship. The switch to another narrator, Gretel, marks a formal shift in the film. The tale being told goes from an epic, fable to a personal recollection of one’s life, a switch from objectivity to subjectivity. The frame goes from wide to boxy to reflect this. Gretel laments on the manner by which tales psychically become embedded within listeners and the manly deus ex machinas that inhabit the genre, usurping the potential of feminine agency.
Then, we’re entreated to new narration, one that operates in a psychic conversation with the opening, deconstructing the gendered apparatus of fairy tales and the way they subordinate identity through strict normative paradigms and establishing the thematic posturing of the film itself: a genealogy examining the fairy tale as heuristic along with its gendered machinations and the manners in which they frame the morals commonplace to the format.
This switch of type of narration — narrating a fable (third-person) versus narrating the subjective thoughts of one’s own life (first-person) — is visually indicated in the change in the frame’s ratio which goes from a wide, elongated, epic shot to a more personate, intimate shot; we’re going from a tale told externally to one told internally.
Our new narrator, a young girl, Gretel (Sophia Lillis), refers back to the story of “the Beautiful Child with the little pink cap” and remarks on the manners in which such tales can “get” into one’s head like the way this fable has burrowed itself into hers. She examines and questions the nature of the tale, the history of how its come to be burrowed within her psyche, and the manners by which real stories are elevated into the grandiose mythical encounters. Finally, she laments on the way “princes” come in and resolve a good portion of such stories, rendering the question of the female characters’ agencies a trite manner.
But there are no princes in her surroundings. Her tale will be a different one, focused on a journey of femininity finding itself in a world that seeks to consume this freedom through its socialization processes. The film’s titular choice begins to poke through as we understand the vantage point that will color it.
Her quest for agency begins with a journey where her brother, Hansel (Sam Leakey), a young boy, questions her incessantly as she walks with him through a forest in search of a job.
The siblings come to stand in front of an expansive building, press their faces against one another, and grunt like pigs, affirming their solidarity and making us aware of their struggles. Their choice to celebrate their relationship through an animalistic parlance reminds us of the underlying manner by which fables utilize non-human creatures to impart messages and simultaneously reinforces a motif of consumption (the children, acting as animals which are traditionally rendered food, are seeking labor in order to acquire nourishment)— a reminder that lurks ominously in the backdrop given the source material.
Gretel sits in an interview room, silhouetted against wondrous stained-glass windows. The master (Donncha Crowley) of the house interviews Gretel. Gretel (Sophia Lillis) speaks her mind. The shot widens as Gretel (Sophia Lillis) is reminded of her place. Gretel sits in the interview room filled with colorful stained-glass displays, a mosaic of colors which serves as an ironic counter-point to Gretel’s limited pathways. Her interview is derailed by sexist comments which she refuses to succumb to. This failure, her decision to find a new identity, is made clear by the cut to a wider shot of her which reveals the colorful windows once more alongside her, a sign of the possibilities that she yearns and seeks to tap into.
Her interview quickly devolves into a didactic interplay as her interviewer (Donncha Crowley) quickly corrects Gretel when she openly speaks her mind and criticizes the bureaucratic structures which oppress her brother and her. He tells her to address him as “milord” and questions her “maidenhood”, quickly affirming the oppressive milieu and reminding Gretel of her uniquely vulnerable, feminine place within the social apparatus.
The shot tracks Gretel (Sophia Lillis) as she walks back home. Gretel and Hansel are framed by a dark entryway as they return back home. Gretel (Sophia Lillis) sits while being chastised. Gretel’s mother (Fiona O’Shaughnessy) berates Gretel. A flame sits in the middle of Gretel (Sophia Lillis) and her mother (Fiona O’Shaughnessy). Gretel’s mother (Fiona O’Shaughnessy) moves towards her daughter (Sophia Lillis), covering the flame between them. Gretel’s mother (Fiona O’Shaughnessy) perverts the piggish affirmation with Gretel (Sophia Lillis). Gretel’s mother (Fiona O’Shaughnessy) axes the table as a final warning. Gretel’s inability to get a job forces her back home in the rain. But she is unable to stay here and her mother, through heinous and twisted remarks, lets her daughter know as much. A perverted piggish affirmation from the matriarch which covers the only light in the room, signals the dissolution of this family unit, a proclamation which is confirmed by an axe which she lodges into the table as a final warning to leave. Left with no other options, the siblings must depart that place which they called home and seek new shelter.
We know that things have gone poorly when Gretel rushes out of the location, brother in tow, as the rain pounds on them accentuating her failure in procuring employment. She questions whether or not it would have been proper to slap the man for his controlling, disgusting demeanor and the camera, fully focused on her face and tracking her movements, imparts her deliberation with a subjective heft that emphasizes her agency. But before we get an answer, the film cuts to her house, framing both Hansel and Gretel within the closed-off and darkened boundaries demarcating it.
The manor, lit in a depressing, overwhelming blue makes the siblings’ mother’s (Fiona O’Shaughnessy) chastisement of Gretel sting all the harder. Gretel is questioned as to her insolence but attempts to push back against the unfair debasement. Yet, the matriarch continues and tells Gretel that the latter must leave. There’s not enough room in this house for “ghosts”, a haunting proclamation which ties the house and its inhabitants towards death, and Gretel is told to take her brother and try to make it to a convent.
Gretel argues logistics but her mother quickly ends the conversation, telling her daughter that if they’re unable to do as much, they should dig their own graves and make sure to make one for their mother as well. She reaches over to her daughter, places their faces against one another, and grunts like a pig; yet, the utterance is perverse, an explicit acceptance of annihilation, a far cry from the earlier evocation which hinted at perseverance in the face of tribulations.
Immediately, this disjoint is emphasized. A loud thud shocks as an axe falls onto the table and the matriarch threatens to kill her children if they do not leave; the family unit is broken apart and must be re-forged once more.
Gretel (Sophia Lillis) and Hansel (Sam Leakey) are covered by the forest. The siblings head to a manor in the darkness. An upside down overhead shot of Gretel (Sophia Lillis) and Hansel (Sam Leakey). A man (Jonathan Gunning) appears behind Gretel (Sophia Lillis). The emaciated man (Jonathan Gunning) has Hansel in his grasp. The huntsman is revealed, framed by the doorway of the abode. The children are framed in the hazy fog and looming trees of the forest. They are small and feeble, vulnerable to the powers that reside within this environment. They head to a manor in the darkness and think they’ve found security. An upside-down overhead shot of them showcases this temporary unity which is broken as a man rises behind Gretel and reveals that this abode is no longer safe. He almost takes out Hansel, but a Huntsman, framed and given importance by the doorway of this manor, saves the duo and takes them in temporarily.
As a result, the siblings find themselves swallowed in the “terrible mouth” of the forest, a metaphorical rendering which paints the world as a consumptive machine with its denizens being nothing more than foodstuffs waiting for their turn to eaten, subject to the whims of the trees stretching across the backdrop, limbs reaching down for the next tasty morsel, and the hazy fog pervading the area, obscuring their fates and diminishing their presence; they are truly at the whims of nature.
Hansel, innocently unaware of the gravity of the situation, questions Gretel on her obstinance to accepting the seemingly easy solutions to their problems. If she had just accepted the earlier offer of employment and subjected herself to the decorum required of the same, the family might still be together; food (particularly cake) might be on the horizon. But Gretel, unperturbed by the childish problem-solving, explains the reality of the world: “Nothing is given without something else being taken away.”
While her use of the adage is in reference to the sexual politicking she had to and will have to navigate, there’s a uncomfortable undercurrent catalyzed due to the nature of the opening’s tale of the girl whose illness was traded for power; sickness is transfigured not as purely negative, an impediment stopping natural functions, but instead as metonymical humanity, one that has been traded for supernatural powers; humanity, and it’s reliance on over-arching norms, poison from a certain point-of-view, agreed to upon by the powers that be, is rendered fungible and can be sacrificed for that which exists beyond in the realm of the supernatural.
This overarching connection, subtly implied through the film’s posturing, lingers in the air like the malevolent fog surrounding the kids and makes Gretel’s plan to find shelter at another woman’s house suspect, especially when she reveals that she sees this abode not through her normal vision but through some special sight.
The two tepidly approach a solitary building with a fire out front and enter the dim, cavernous building with flickering lights. They decide to rest in a bed and we see a top-down view of them oriented upside-down — domesticity has been established but at an unseen cost is waiting to let itself be made known.
The situation completely flips on itself, when a hidden figure (Jonathan Gunning) slowly rises behind Gretel as the siblings attempt to comfort one another, stripping away any sense of security and warmth the duo had managed to clench onto.
The kids run out of the building but the menacing man takes hold of Hansel in the chaos. Gretel attempts to take him out, injuring his eye and rendering him even more of a monstrosity, but he only appears to get more powerful, threatening to bring the duo’s journey to a premature halt.
Suddenly, an arrow flies through the man’s head and removes him from the equation. A huntsman (Charles Babalola), framed neatly in the doorway of the building announcing his presence, comes forward and takes the children in before questioning them about their unfortunate circumstances. They converse in room lit by a musky, yellow haze which saturates the area, making grime on the children’s’ faces more prominent and pessimistically highlighting the realities of what they must do in order to survive.
Hansel (Sam Leaky), Gretel (Sophia Lillis), and the Huntsman (Charles Babalola) sit around the dimly lit table, enshrined by yellow hues. Gretel bathes. The huntsman (Charles Babalola) gives advice. Dissolve from Gretel (Sophia Lillis) to the forests which she must once again navigate. The siblings return to their trek through the woods. The encounter with the Huntsman, an event whose magical underpinnings Gretel questions, leads the siblings to a new path back into the forest. They will have to make their way back to society and slot back into the socially ordained order of things.
The huntsman offers to help the two by leading them towards labor, work defined by explicit gender roles that remind Gretel of the way her femininity has been coded and the way she can be taken (in even the darkest senses of the term) by the realm of men. However, with no other options, the two acquiesce to the huntsman’s suggestions and depart the location; all the while, Gretel questions the coincidence of the encounter and its fantastical nature, neatly tying her journey back to the earlier discussion about fairy tales.
The siblings once again journey through the forest and director Oz Perkins uses a series of nice dissolves which accentuates the environment’s fogginess and the dreaminess of the endeavor.
While taking a break, Hansel once again breaks into a tirade of childish inquisitions and Gretel is forced into an uncomfortable position, forced to deal with her younger brother’s lack of knowledge regarding sexual processes (and the disturbing manners in which gender roles are implicated in them) and the responsibilities that she faces in spite of her own young age. He believes in the fairy tales about procreation involving children being delivered by birds while she knows the involves processes underlying such myth, but her only response is sardonic disavowal instead of deeper explanation; what else is she to do?
Gretel (Sophia Lillis) looks out into the forest. The silhouettes of enchanters fills the forests’ negative space. A shot looking up at the reach of the forests.The siblings walk in the dark, silhouetted against the forest. An enchantress’s silhouette appears in the fog of the night. The siblings’ journey is marked by silhouettes, their own and those of the enchantress who follows them. This spectral figure, framed by trees and fog, stares at them and then disappears into the night as a black-bird emerges, the storybook sign of the witch.
He asks her to tell him the “pink cap” story again but she refuses, not willing to scare him and cause him to fall victim to delusions: the repetition of the story will only exacerbate their unwieldy conditions and cause the younger of them to see things which “aren’t there.” But as the older sibling looks into the woods and sees the silhouettes of enchanters in the forest, covered in the haze, we’re left wondering as to the nature of her visions and feel the pernicious effects of the story in her psyche that she alluded to earlier. Is her warning to Hans based off her own circumstances or is she truly gifted with a second sight like the character from the fable embedded within her?
Nighttime falls and the journey becomes increasingly treacherous. A solitary silhouette stands in the forest blocking the children’s path and the camera slowly zooms onto it. What does it want?
A whisper: “Gretel”.
Then, a dark bird, an evocation of the supernatural, flies up ending the moment. The figure is missing and reality becomes suspect. We’re left wondering the figure’s motivations and its reasoning for reaching out to Gretel while being unsure of its status as dream or reality.
Gretel (Sophia Lillis) narrates until she is interrupted by a noise. A tracking shot follows Gretel (Sophia Lillis) as she searches for this disturbance. Hansel is pretending to cut a tree. Gretel (Sophia Lillis) attempts an amends with Hansel (Sam Leakey). Gretel (Sophia Lillis) and Hansel (Sam Leakey) do a pig affirmation in a closer shot, affirming their reunification. Gretel’s narration is cut off by a noise which she promptly goes to investigate. We track on her as she moves to the site of this disturbance which is revealed, in a wide-shot, to be Hansel trying his luck at chopping trees. She initially responds with anger and upsets the bond between the two. But then the camera cuts to a more intimate framing of the two, and their piggish affirmation unites them once more.
Back in the daytime, Gretel narrates again about her powers and how her mother told her to put such thoughts out of her head, but this internal discussion is interrupted by an unseen noise which Gretel begins to trek towards. The interruption in thought reveals the “real-time” aspect of the film proper, informing us that this tale, unlike the fairy tale, is far from set in stone and is being carved out. The camera adopts a handheld quality as it tracks her, imbuing the shot with a subjectivity that affirms this moment of urgent agency.
We’re initially tense with her. Is this her nightly visitor coming back again?
No.
It’s just Hansel, who bored in the moment, is “practicing” his craft by whacking a stick against a tree, an affirmation of his future role as a manly woodcutter. A wide shot that frames the duo within a larger scope of the trees and reveals the truth of the situation: objectivity reigns once more.
Initially, Gretel is cross with her brother for worrying her but the discord is cut through as the two affirm their piggish bond, coming closer within a more enclosed frame, and continue forwards.
Gretel runs towards mushrooms framed in the foreground. Gretel (Sophia Lillis) laughs. Hansel (Sam Leakey) laughs. Hansel (Sam Leakey) is perturbed. Gretel (Sophia Lillis) is enamored while Hansel runs past her. Witches appear in the foggy trees. A carriage goes by in the forest. The beautiful child (Giulia Doherty) and her mother ride in a blue-lit carriage. The trip sequence marks the start of the film’s disorienting form, once which discombobulates space and time through its edits to reveal the effects and powers of the supernatural forces which, stemming from nature, govern all. The siblings’ trips from their mushroom consumption starts off well with both of them in giggles but quickly becomes unnerving. An edit which shows Hansel broaching Gretel’s space is the first disorienting step which is followed up when the latter sees new witches in the surroundings. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a carriage appears in the woods, its proximate location to the children unexplained. We cut to the inside of this impossibly blue-lit carriage and see the figure of Gretel’s tale, the pink-capped child, along with another woman riding along. The sequence, evocative yet confusing in its progression, calls to question the reality of the situation and where the siblings’ trip has ended and where the magic has started.
Incredibly hungry, they come towards mushrooms growing on the forest floors, growths which appear prominently framed in the foreground. Gretel dresses the moment up with make-believe, pretending to talk to the fungus (although given her claims of magic, we’re also slightly convinced that her dialogue may in fact be real) and gets the “okay” to eat them. Hansel eagerly accepts her affirmation and the two eat the mushrooms.
We cut to the delirium: both children are framed in their own spaces and the two laugh before the soundscape becomes more intense. Hansel becomes perturbed and begins to walk out of his position. An immediate cut disorients us, as the continuity of Hansel’s trajectory within Gretel’s shot is whiplash-inducing in how it changes our spatial perception of the environment the two are in.
Figures, once again hidden in the fog, appear in response to this spatial schism, and call to question the reality of the setting. Are they a drug induced vision or something more nefarious?
Then, another childish whisper: “Follow me. Come and find me. Follow me, sister.”
A carriage pops out of view, once again usurping our orientation of the environment through the intentionally obfuscating editing; where did this vehicle come from and where is it in reference to the children?
The questions only pile up as the visuals continue to become more abstracted as; suddenly, we cut to “the Beautiful child” and a woman in a carriage lit in impossibly deep blues, a luminescence similar to the children’s’ house at night. Then, the dream temporarily abates, leaving only questions in its wake.
The siblings are framed by the gates. A doll is hidden among the grasses. Gretel (Sophia Lillis) is one side of the gate while Hansel (Sam Leakey) is on the other. The red-glass of the house stares at the siblings. Gretel (Sophia Lillis) tries to hold Hansel (Sam Leakey) back. The house watches the siblings. Gretel looks through a triangular peephole. She sees a bountiful feast in front of her eyes. Gretel (Sophia Lillis) keeps watch in front of the window. Holda (Alice Krige) appears behind Hansel (Sam Leakey), framed off by the door. The children happen upon a new house which is littered with ominous signs that would serve as deterrent for anyone in the area. A gate which demarcates the two, dolls on the floor, and an ominous red-window (which the camera pushes on imbuing with its own supernatural agency) all scream ill tidings, but the smell of food from the house serves too powerful a force and compels the siblings to ignore their better judgement. Gretel looks through a triangular peephole, a sign of the enchantress’s domain, and keeps watch for Hansel who sneaks in to retrieve some food. But the house’s owner, an older woman, Holda, appears in a doorway behind Hans, an eerie callback to the manner by which the emaciated man appeared behind Gretel moments earlier, and whisks him away. Gretel’s attempt at saving her brother make no progress and she is forced to take refuge with this mysterious stranger who warns the young girl off of any foolish plans.
A gate frames the siblings as they walk towards the source of the voice and they find a partially hidden doll-like figures on the floor, a sign of civilization and a marker of lost innocence, that points them towards a house where the smells of cake are overwhelming and tempt the hungry children desperate for any source of meaningful consumption.
But the revelation of the triangular structure of the house informs us of what we now know: this is the abode of absolute power.
Yet, the sibling’s drive to consume overwhelms all other senses and notions of common sense. Gretel cautiously peers into the house, one lit in ominous yellows, but her eye, framed within a triangular peephole, a confirmation of the overarching architecture, sees only a bountiful feast on a table. There is only one goal Gretel and Hansel care for now: satiating their hunger which takes full control of their faculties.
Hansel sneaks in with Gretel’s help and starts to steal foodstuffs. But then, a figure appears from the background (seemingly out of nowhere like the horrific emaciated man from earlier), isolated in a doorframe, and whisks Hansel away with the flip of her cloak. Unfortunately, there are no princes (or huntsmen) to save the duo from their current perils and the older sister is tasked with figuring out her own solution to the major impediment facing her.
She decides to throw a rock at the building in an attempt to save her brother but is unable to make any meaningful dent as the projectile weakly bounces off the abode. While she begins to start a fire in another rescue attempt, the woman (Alice Krige) and Hansel come out and the former warns the young woman to not “start something that she can’t stop”, clearly alluding to a more sinister double meaning lurking beneath the words.
Gretel (Sophia Lillis) finally decides to eat the food gifted to her. Holda stores Hansel’s hair. Hansel (Sam Leakey) and Gretel (Sophia Lillis) sleep, comforted by the fact that they are seemingly safe. Gretel eats the food, left with no other options, while Holda puts aside a piece of Hansel’s hair, an ominous sign of the costs of these gifts. But the children, asleep in their own beds now, are comforted by their temporary safety. This has at least started better than their failed encounter at the house of the emaciated man. But we are well aware, their newfound freedom will turn upside down once more.
Finally, the visions and reality collide: Gretel is tasked with dealing with this strange and mysterious woman, a seemingly kind soul named Holda, who offers the first positive words in regards to Gretel’s femininity and the roles available to her. With no other path to turn down, Gretel joins her brother and begins to consume the bounty in front of her all while the elderly woman takes a strand of Hansel’s hair and stores it away.
The opening’s warning, made all the more poignant due to the slow burn nature of the narrative creepily crawling towards this preluded epiphany, is brought to sinister light as all the visible pieces — gifts (the food and boarding), those who offer them (Holda herself), and the willing benefactors willing to take them (Gretel & Hansel) — make us eerily aware that a cost will have to be paid when the battle between the parties plays out.
Perkins perfectly encapsulates the nature of this triangular antagonism through the metaphor of chess; as the children get acquainted with Holda she has them play the great strategic game and uses the pieces and rules to further extend the gender discourse: “the king is afraid, and he should be. Because the queen can do whatever she wants.” In this battle to determine her own fate against the powers that be and seek to domesticate her, Gretel is tasked to play in this game, her opponent being the woman who seeks to educate her, the other “queen” on the other side of the board.
The characters (and their affects) become pieces in an overarching game and the cinematographic decisions reflect as much, demonstrating the effects of their movements on the wider state of the “board”.
The primary players are typically framed in manners that never highlight their entire body (usually in medium shots) with the characters in the center of the frame (usually in the lowest vertical register of the frame at that) to emphasize the characters’ subjectivity and their current situation. In addition, these types of shot usually isolate the character by themselves, emphasizing their status as individual pieces. This makes shots where characters intercede in another’s space immediately evocative, suggesting that a “power play” is occurring even if the nature of the maneuver is not immediately apparent.
Tracking shots, both stable and handheld, follow the characters as they make specific decisions —movements on the board in order to strike the enemy down. The speed of these shots is perfectly calibrated, going as slowly or quickly as the moments need, carefully establishing just who really is in control of a situation.
Wide shots, which usually are the only such shots to reveal characters’ entire bodies, represent the results of the clashes by respective parties which is why they emphasize the totality of the players qua pieces and their surroundings.
The film oscillates between these visual registers, taking advantage of elliptical editing and the Kuleshov effect to visually depict how each respective party asserts their power within this (primarily) psychological space. We see them isolated thinking of their next move, privy to their pressing interests and their psychological states due to the symbolically rich and evocative mise-en-scène (in particular, the lighting achieved through the stained glass). We see the momentum of their agency as we see them proceed towards action. Then, the battlespace is revealed and we can re-assess who’s “winning” before the next “move” is played.
This flow in the film’s rhythm is what keeps it captivating, accentuating the poetic flourishes of the script’s dialogue and buoying the weaker such parts (usually involving either dialogue that’s too on the nose for it’s own good or, less often, line deliveries which bely the tone of the scenarios in which they’re spoken) with visual schemas that safeguard the tense, oneiric mood (even during basic shot-reverse-shot sequences). Even when the story goes slower, quieting its more traditional narrative in favor of affective mood-setting, the heart of the battle is always present within the frame, captivating any viewer willing to parse the piece’s form.
Even without the schematic underpinnings imbuing the frames with their respective meanings, Perkins and his cinematographer, Galo Olivares, achieve a fairy tale aesthetic that’s oozing in personality. Watching the film is akin to viewing a moving storybook, filled with breathtaking and nightmarish images that certainly dip their toes in surrealism to great effect.
The score operates in a harmonious (mostly) subdued sense, augmenting the mood but never overdetermining the moments with an unearned elicitation of feeling due to the music alone. The effect is one that surprises as we’re caught unaware when the sonorous stylings do rear their head during the profound moments when characters’ make legitimate headway in their strategies.
It’s no surprise then that the film has still struggled with finding its audience as its focus is less on the story and more on the nature of its telling; the fairy tale is merely a springboard to discuss the ideas inherent within the narrative form and the film’s exploration of these vis-à-vis the particular mode of film, the nature of the image and the ways they can have an impact on the psyche of the viewer through the way the assert implicit meaning and connection, allows the viewer to disappear within the world of the film, fully captured within texture of the frame. The measured pacing and lack of conventional narrative thrust intentionally forces the viewer to play the film’s game on its terms, a decision which may alienate those looking for a more propulsive, kinetic horror experience; however, by that same token, the confident formal and aesthetic decisions should also earn the film fans itching for a mood piece which reckons with genre in a lush, painterly manner as it excavates the darkness present within the popular childhood fable.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
Gretel and Hansel is a beautiful looking, slow-burn telling of the Grimm Brother’s fairy tail with a feminist slant that plays perfectly within director Oz Perkins moody, evocative wheelhouse. While the script fails him at times, the depth he’s able to imbue through his direction, which prioritizes mood over narrative propulsion, elevates the piece and makes it a truly haunting experience for viewers willing to lose themselves in the film’s spell.
Rating
10/10
Grade
S
Go to Page 2for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
