Chloe Grace Moretz as Abby Kodi Smit-McPhee as Owen Richard Jenkins as Thomas
Release Date
2010
Language(s)
English
Running Time
116 minutes
This is a hard movie for me to rate and I’ve struggled with coming up with a number for a long time. I initially saw the movie in 2011 and thought it was amazing. I was completely enamored and couldn’t stop thinking about it. It got me reading the Wikipedia page to find more information ,and I saw that it was a remake of a Swedish movie called Let the Right One In, which itself is based on a novel of the same name. I thought it’d be fun to see the original movie and read the book to see how the Reeves version compared. The process left me in a strange position. While the Reeves version is stellar in composition, it comes off feeling like a replica of the original movie with an English dub. There are slight changes in setting, the starting point the movie leaps off from, and the way the theme of growing up is handled, but it’s not enough to make the movie feel like something wholly unique (like Evil Deadvs The Evil Dead) .
For those of you unacquainted with the book or 2008 movie, the story follows an ostracized young child, Owen, who’s struggling to find his place in life. He’s bullied at school and can’t really relate the adults around him. Eventually a young “girl”, Abby, moves in next door. Unbeknownst to Owen, Abby’s actually a vampire. As the two interact more often, a budding friendship is born, and their lives are radically changed. Given that information, the opening shot of the movie feels completely out of place with audience expectations. It starts in on a disfigured individual who jumps to his death from a hospital building, leaving behind a note that says “I’m sorry Abby.” This initial scene sets the tone for the rest of the movie and tinges the experience with a more sinister sense of mystery. Who’s the person , how did they end up there, and why were they apologizing? It gives the movie a lot of action before the slower paced story kicks in and is one of the unique things Reeves did to spice up his adaptation.
Traditionally, coming-of-age stories are about trying to find your path and footing in the world. The unpredictable chaos of everything combined with hyper-active hormones leads to a sense of confusion and wonder. Trying to determine how characters will progress becomes part of the fun. This movie subverts that expectation and is another original Reeves move. Adults are reduced to mere outlines of human interaction. Owen is rarely shown interacting with them and when he does those moments are often reduced to trite conversations with little weight. Hell, in a move I really like, Reeves never shows Owen’s mom’s face. The absence of any positive adult influence makes the progression of Owens story easy to predict, so if you like trying to guess or interpret those types of the things, you may feel like the movie tells you too much. However, if you accept the conclusion, the movie takes on this cool surreal feeling. It’s almost poetic watching the foregone conclusion slowly play out.
Smit-McPhee and Moretz knock it out of the park and give the movie a real heart and spirit. Their chemistry as friends is genuinely touching to watch and reminded me of a lot of moments in my childhood. You can see them warm up to each other, and because the movie takes its time, the subsequent places they go feel emotionally satisfying. Smit-McPhee really hits the nail on the head of bullied kid who desperately wants to feel like he has agency again. He manages to be creepy but sympathetic. You want him to find a path to happiness, even if he gives you the heebie jeebies with his weird masculine inducing rituals. Moretz absolutely nails child vampire. She’s innocent, but she’s also horrifying. She asks basic questions like “What’s a girlfriend?” but then has to consume other people’s blood to survive. None of these shifts feel out of character and it keeps Abby feeling complex.
Just because this is a romance with cute moments of friendship doesn’t mean it’s sunshine and daisies all the time. People are brutally murdered and their blood canvasses the white snow. The contrast is stunning and makes it clear that violence pervades our everyday existence. It can come from anywhere and doesn’t line up with what we think. The visual effects team does a great job at showing the horrors of vampire life by demonstrating the consequences of breaking vampire rules and by making the kill sequences feel deliberately violent. You can feel the pain respective character’s go through. Out of the two movies, I think this one is more visceral in its scares, so if that’s something you’re looking for you should check this out.
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TLDR
Even if Let Me In feels a little too derivative of its 2008 Swedish counterpart, its worth giving a watch if you’re looking for a coming-of-age romance with a horror twist. It’s equal parts heartwarming and horrifying and has some of the best child performances I’ve ever seen. Imay rag on the movie for feeling like a clone of the original, but that’s not a bad thing. It means it has a great story, memorable characters, poignant and relevant themes, and great horror sequences. Reeves definitely refines and polishes some of these elements and I appreciate him making the movie more accessible to a widespread audience. I just wish that the movie felt more distinct .
Rating
9.4/10
Grade
A
Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Jane Levy as Mia Allen Shiloh Fernandez as David Allen Lou Taylor Pucci as Eric
Release Date
2013
Language(s)
English
Running Time
92 minutes
Normally, when a horror fan hears the word “remake” they feel a deep sense of fear. Most horror remakes usually suck and are made as cash grabs that prey on nostalgia. They usually have a weak plot or one that’s functionally the same as the original with none of the soul or passion behind it. Certain iconic scenes will be redone as a moment of fan-service, but nothing of substance will be added to differentiate the movie outside of this fan-service. Outside of a few rare instances (like The Ringas an adaptation of Ringu) , horror remakes are doomed to fail because they refuse to innovate or add their own mark on the franchise. Thankfully for The Evil Deadfans, Fede Alvarez isn’t about that, and has managed to create a familiar but wholly unique Evil Dead origin story.
The film literally opens with misdirection, framing shots and moments to jog fan memories. You think you know what’s going to happen, but then it’s something completely different. Over the top violence, linguistic jabs, emotional turmoil. The first five minutes is like a small demonstration of what’s to come.The story picks up a while later, as a group of friends goes up to the iconic cabin the woods. Their purpose? To help their friend, Mia, get over her problematic drug addiction. The group is comprised of Mia, her estranged brother David, their eccentric friend Paul, David’s girlfriend Natalie (Elizabeth Blackmore), and the self-appointed leader of the healing expedition,Olivia (Jessica Lucas).
The set up adds a nice motivation for the trip. All the characters are going to help their friend deal with a life-threatening issue. When a user goes cold turkey they become more paranoid, frantic, desperate, and afraid. The set-up would make any sign of possession easy to disregard as just as an effect of rehabilitation. The stakes are set early on , so the groups decision to stick out terrifying situations makes sense. It’s a clever premise that’s utilized properly.
However, unlike the original movie, this soft reboot struggles at establishing memorable moments for its characters, outside of just really gory sequences. The only interesting characters are the siblings because they get the lion’s share of characteristics and backstory. Their estrangement gives the relationship a sense of mystery which keeps us invested in figuring out what really happened between them. The most memorable sequences in the movie involve them because they’re the emotional core of the movie. They both have reasons to care about and be cautious of each other and the movie demonstrates that nuance properly. Granted, it’s not like I hated the other characters. I did like Pucci’s performance as Eric, but the story only starts to make use of his ability to be manic in the third act. Outside of that, every character feels like they exist just to be abused and disposed of by the script/ the ghosts that get summoned by the Necronomicon.
Speaking of which, the Necronomicon looks amazing and I love how much fun the team had in making and styling it. From the protective sealing around it, to the scrawled messages in it begging users not to use it, the book evokes a different sense of dread. In the original , the text is indecipherable/in another language , but here there are very clear visual cues.
It makes the danger more apparent, but it also makes the decision to read it seem more absurd. The original gets away with it because the circumstances leading up to it are just an unfortunate result of the supernatural and the worst of peoples’ habits coming together with catastrophic consequences. It’s not that its the worst set up ever. It just feels messy. The character that ends up reading it is repeatedly shown to be a bit eclectic in matters about the occult. It just feels like if that’s the case, and they’re thereto help their paranoid friend suffering from withdrawal, that they would not say horrifying incantations. I can forgive it though, because it’s an Evil Dead movie and no curse means no fun.
That’s good, because the movie is a TON of fun. There’s a lot of love for the source material on display and you can tell that Alvarez understood how to adapt those original moments and update them for mainstream audiences today. The gore is even more over the top here and there are sequences that will leave your stomach queasy after watching. What makes these bloodbaths stand out is that they’re all done with practical effects. The horrifying applications of sharp material to flesh will chill viewers to their bone, and it makes sense when you realize it’s created via actual practical illusions and tricks. I love that they went the extra mile in selling the hyper-realism because it gives the franchise something completely different.
Now that I’ve said that, if you like the Evil Dead movies because they’re really funny, this movie may not be what you’re looking for. The movie attempts to replicate a lot of humor ,and to be fair to it, I did chuckle at some of the fast verbal lashings delivered by the deadites. My issue is just that the humor is few and far between. Most of the time it’s too fast or just feels like something edgy that should be funny but has no real meaning or weight. Though the movie can’t balance the its serious and comedic tones at the same time like Evil Dead 2,the way it handles its themes of overcoming addiction gives it something unique that the others don’t have. It’s also not chock full of fan service. Personally, I think it has just enough references to have older fans smiling, without focusing on them so much as to alienate brand new viewers. Its the golden amount.
If you’re looking for an Evil Dead movie that’s more related to the first movie in the franchise and are okay with/enjoy a more serious story-line, you should definitely check this out. I think one huge advantage this movie has is how easy it is to show to people who want to be scared by a horror movie. Aaron Morton did a great job at getting great shots and Bryan Shaw’s editing keeps tension high at all times. There are no lazy sequences and the supernatural events always feel like a threat. Jump scares are expected but get the job done and don’t feel cheap. Gory moments are actually hard to stomach (if you don’t like gore), and demonstrate real creativity in figuring out just how far to push the audience. Alvarez is a master at pacing so the movie always feels like its progressing towards some goal. When I first saw this movie, I was on my feet during the ending. Couldn’t believe how cool and aesthetic it all was.
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TLDR
Evil Dead is a great soft reboot that manages to tell the original’s classicstory with enough twists to feel like its own creature. The film’s packed to the brim with gore and scares alike, so check it out even if you’re a horror fan not familiar with the franchise.
Rating
8.6/10
Grade
B+
Go to Page 2 to view this review’s progress report .
Bruce Campbell as Ash Williams Denise Bixler as Linda Sarah Berry as Annie Knowby
Release Date
1987
Language(s)
English
Running Time
84 minutes
If I’d have known how funny Evil Dead 2 was, I’m pretty sure I would’ve watched The Evil Dead a lot earlier. Somehow, Sam Raimi took everything good from the fist movie, removed the unnecessary clutter, slapped in some intriguing retcons, and amped the comedy up by a factor of bonker. The result is a one of a kind sequel that gives fans of the original everything they want and more , while feeling like its own story The scares are more interesting, the turns are completely out of left field, and the movie has a lot more fun with itself.
I knew the movie was going to be weird the moment the first scene started. The movie picks up on a “recap” of the events of the first movie, except this time everyone except Linda is missing. Missing as in Ash doesn’t even mention their existence.In his recounting, Ash explains that he went to the cabin for a romantic get-away with Linda (not the fun group bonding we were told in the first movie). Once there, a similar series of events lead to Dr.Knowby’s tape being played and the evil of the Necronomicon being summoned. Right off the bat, the movie forces the audience to come to its own conclusions. Did Ash experience so much trauma during the first movie, that his mind warped the perception of events to the most painful event he went through? Did burning the Necronomicon at the end of the first movie cause an alternative timeline where everyone else didn’t exist? It’s up to you to decide. After the”recap” concludes, Ash finds himself forced to once again deal with the hijinks of the cabin.
With each passing supernatural phenomena, Ash finds himself slipping, unable to differentiate between real events, his delusions, and the supernatural happenings. His experience and interaction with the world feels surreal. Ash is very clearly is experiencing some kind of trauma . Within the span of a day he’s lost his friends ( who may or may not exist), had to kill his girlfriend, been tossed around by supernatural happenings, experience a litany of physical injuries (many self inflicted through sheer clumsiness), and been incessantly mocked by deadlites. It’s enough to turn anyone bonkers, and Bruce Campbell proficiently demonstrates as much with his absurd and hilarious facial expressions. He constantly moves/messes with his eyes, eyebrows, and forehead making him feel unpredictable and energetic, like a switch has flipped in him that’s caused him to become a loose cannon. He really channels this raw chaotic neutral/good vibe that never slows down.
His descent into madness is equal parts terrifying and hilarious. This is a man who’s clearly lost control in his life. He didn’t sign up for any of this and awful things keep happening at breakneck speed forcing him to constantly fight for his life. Losing your mind on top of dealing with all of these issues sounds like hell, like an infinite void that will never let go. Thankfully, the whole experience comes off as a joke. As Ash loses his mind, he becomes more unhinged and cartoon like, going from a clumsy and sweet goof to bloodthirsty and confident. It’s not that the situations are any less serious. It’s just that the story lets you experience them without falling into some weird nihilism.
Everything you loved about the first movie look and feel wise is here and polished up. Fast paced camera chasing subject through the forest? Check. Chainsaw slashing through deadlite splattering blood everywhere? Check. Bruce Campbell’s eyebrows threatening to fight the enemy by themselves? Also check. The best part is all the effects have gotten even better and more polished. The practical effect work feels even smoother and works seamlessly. Possessions look more crisp and grounded as opposed to just nightmarish. My only issue is that ome of the stop-motion feels a bit choppy in the third act, but that’s a small complaint in the grand scheme of things.
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TLDR
Evil Dead 2 is honestly just one of those rare sequels that takes an winning formula and fine tunes it to near perfection. The comedic turn the franchise takes gives it a unique flavor and allows its horrifying elements to really shine. If you enjoyed the first movie and want to see more, check this out. It’s one of a kind.
Rating
10/10
Grade
A+
Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Bruce Campbell as Ash Williams Ellen Sandweiss as Cheryl Williams Hal Delrich as Scott Betsy Baker as Linda Theresa Tilly as Shelly
Release Date
1981
Language(s)
English
Running Time
85 minutes
This is one of the few western horror movies I grew up watching, so it’s near and dear to my heart. As a naive middle school student, I believed the reviews online that said it was cheesy and corny. The word funny was thrown around everywhere, so I went in thinking I’d be laughing a lot. After the movie, I was left horrified. Nightmares for days on end. Tons of high pitched cackling involved. I refused to go near it again. Then the soft reboot, Evil Dead, was announced. It looked scary and intriguing and I was immediately reminded of the terrors of my not so distant youth. I decided then and there, that I had to get over the movie eventually and immediately went and saw The Evil Dead. The movie still scared me, but because I knew what was going to happen, I could view the events with a certainty.I could sit back and just watch the madness unfold. Now that I’m done a few rewatches, I can confidently say Sam Raimi’s low budget horror movie is one of the best ever made. It manages to scare me, intrigue me, impress me, and make me chuckle a few times every time I put it on.
The plot is campy if you look at it from today’s standards but you should keep in mind the movie came out back in the 80’s and was considered one of the scariest back then. It was ahead of its time and dared to go to some awful, depraved places. The story follows a group of five teenage friends – Ash, his sister Cheryl, his girlfriend Linda, their friend Scott, and Scott’s girlfriend, ,Shelly – as they go off to a cabin in the woods to party and enjoy themselves. From the moment they step foot in the area, things are off. When Scott goes to open the door, a swing repeatedly knocks into the wall of the house, almost as if another entity is trying to enter. Once our group opens the door, the knocking stops creating a sense of impending doom. After a series of events leads to an incantation from the Necronomicon Ex-Mortis being chanted , things quickly go south as malevolent supernatural entities come to play.
The movie is very much a story of an unfortunate group of “kids” who are only partially to blame for their situation. They barely have time to do anything because the action st arts almost immediately, and the actions they do end up taking are heavily influenced by the supernatural. It’s almost like they’re doomed into a situation. This is made all the worse because the story takes time to develop the characters, so watching them get tortured is hard. It’s a few moments here and there, but character motivations are fleshed out and almost everyone feels like they have a purpose in the story. Yes, the story is mainly about Ash, but that doesn’t mean everyone else just exists as a prop. The story makes use of these relationships to create horrifying, gut-wrenching, and comedic moments.
It’s easy to tell there are production issues. Yes, Raimi didn’t have a ton of money to spend to make this look realistic. So he doubles down on the absurdity of the situation and makes the action and horror sequences bloody, over the top, and disturbing all at the same time. Makeup is on point. It gets bloody and really shows the damage the supernatural events are having on the group. As evidenced by below, it can get pretty real.
Embracing the over the top gore makes the movie both horrifying and comedic. The production issues feel like intentional ways of showcasing the absurdity of whatever is going on. In the face of absolutely nightmarish situations it makes so much sense to laugh, because taking it seriously would make you go crazy (which is more Evil Dead 2). The humor doesn’t come from overt jokes. It comes from the juxtaposition of ineptitude with the horrific nature of what’s going on. Bruce Campbell goes full klutz as Ash. He finds a way to fall or crash in every scene, and puts his full energy into each and every tumble. You can feel the incompetence seep out of him. Add on some crazy facial expressions with his distinctive eyebrows, and suddenly every situation becomes a bit funnier. The spirits haunting the cabin also have a sick sense of humor. They love laughing in horrific sounding cackles and joking about everyone’s darkest fears. They actually relish just making people suffer. It’s funny in the moment, but every time I stop and think about the reality of what’s going on, I shudder. There’s a lot of messed up stuff here that I laughed at because taking it seriously was too off-putting. One scene involving Cheryl has stuck with me ever since I saw it. I have no idea how it got in there, but if sexual assault scenes that are visceral in nature are too much for you, you might want to watch it with a buddy.
To add on to all of the visual splatter and horror, the movie employs a lot of surreal/abstract imagery. There are recurring motifs that are fun to track throughout the movie that have you questioning their real purpose. These scenes are my favorite because I love that weird ambiguous artsy stuff that has you analyzing and re-contextualizing constantly. There are some more obvious symbols/icons that are also used to great effect, so the movie manages to balance the abstract with the “grounded” really well. It lends to a well crafted horror movie that has scares for multiple groups of people.
The camera movement is also exceptional and highly effective. Raimi knows exactly when to do close-ups and every time he does one it feels purposeful. No movement ever feels wasted. When the supernatural force is hunting down the members of the group, the camera moves frantically showing it choosing its next victim. It’s almost like the air and everything around the cabin is tinged with a negativity that seeks to envelop everything.
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TLDR
The Evil Dead is a movie that manages to be hilariously over-the-top and horrifying at the same time. The humor is dark and absurd in nature and is used to counterbalance the violence and splatter-fests the movie ventures off into. If you can get over the “dated” feel and/or watch the movie as if it’s 1981, you’ll get swept up in one of the scariest horror movies made. A surreal nightmare turned black comedy.
Rating
9.8/10
Grade
A+
Go to Page 2 to view this review’s progress report .
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 .
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.
REPORT CARD
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 .
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.
REPORT CARD
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 .
Ruth Wilson as Lily Saylor Paula Prentiss as Iris Blum Lucy Boynton as Polly Parsons Bob Balaban as Mr. Waxcap
Release Date
2016
Language(s)
English
Running Time
87 minutes
When I heard that Oz Perkins was releasing his next film I was more than excited. Despite having heaps of garbage, Netflix has a surprising number of gems, and under Perkins’ deft hand, I hoped one more could be added to the library. Thankfully, I was right. Perkins had taken the slow burn elements from his first movie, The Blackcoat’s Daughter, and amped them up to create a surreal almost ethereal audio-visual experience. This is not the movie for people who want jump scares, answers, or a clear story-line. It’s thought provoking, suspenseful, mesmerizing, and pays off in the way it executes its ideas rather than being a spectacle for spectacle’s sake.
The movie follows the intersecting tales of three women and their independent yet related interactions within a house. It opens up with a narration from Lily, a nurse who informs us of her incoming death in the house, as a specter. She recounts her journey in the house from the beginning, when she came in as live-in-nurse to help famed horror author, Iris Blum. As strange things happen in the house, the audience joins Lily through a visceral, strange, and out of bounds journey that always raises questions, but rarely answers them in direct ways.
Wilson does a great job as the lead. As the narrator she channels a strange melancholy aura . It’s eerie and hearing her solemnly narrating her eventual death makes that feeling even more intense. However, as her corporeal self, she’s just a poor nurse trying to do her job in a wonky household. She’s not looking for trouble and comes off as endearing. Despite being different, both performances are believable and knowing where Lily’s eventual journey is going to go, makes analyzing her narrative intonations that much more interesting. Wilson makes you want to know why it happened.
The movie fascinated me in its exploration of death and the way it furnishes a source of meaning between people. Everyone has an impact on each other, so even when they die they never vanish. There’s an impact to their existence that pervades and expands, filling out cracks and crevices. The movie makes that idea more literal by having a spectral Lily narrate portions of the movie. There’s a strange perverse pleasure in knowing that the lead you’re following is dead and talks about their death as though they’re still very much there. This is also why the ending worked so well for me. It’s not grandiose in a traditional sense, but it really pulls together all the thematic and story threads in a neat package.
Despite being only 87 minutes, Perkins also knows how to create a sense of dread and eeriness. Shots are slow and diverse. There are gorgeous panning shots and zoom ins that highlight how alone/not alone Lily really is in the house. The camera lingers on the faces of our actresses in a way that flips a masculine gaze. A pretty thing in the frame, but it’s framed for something tragic and otherworldly, rendering it as something that’s difficult to process. There are also no cheap jump scares. Things come into frame and linger. Their presence is what’s terrifying. Not some crazy noise that tells you to be scared of it. That being said, I thought some of the shots felt excessive. I wished there were a few more scenes thrown in that showed more of the mystery of the lives of our lead women ( I would talk about them but that’d be a spoiler). The movie could have swapped out a few of its longer tracking shots for those. I think it would’ve added to the nuance of the themes, without revealing more of the “mystery”.
REPORT CARD
TLDR
I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House is not a movie for everyone. If you want something like The Conjuring, with nice jump scares and a straightforward plot, you won’t get it. This movie thrives on atmosphere and mystery (sometimes a little too much). It comes off as poetic, almost like an Edgar Allen Poe story come to life. It’s provocative, mesmerizing, and will have you genuinely thinking about your impact on the world .
Rating
9.5/10
Grade
A+
Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .
Mackenzie Davis as Kate Finn Wolfhard as Miles Brookylnn Prince as Flora Barbara Marten as Mrs.Grose
Release Date
2020
Language(s)
English
Running Time
94 minutes
January horror is something special. The Grudgedisappointed me. Underwater surprised me by managing to deliver a surprisingly effective thrill ride. As a result, I went into The Turning not knowing what to expect. I left the theater confused and shocked. I personally enjoyed the movie, but think the litany of flaws and issues makes it impossible to recommend outside of a few niche people that can find enjoyment in less than ideal movies.
The story follows Kate, a teacher who takes on a new position as a live-in tutor for a young girl, Flora. As she begins her position and becomes acquainted with her new student, thing start going bump in the night. Soon after, Flora’s brother, Miles drops on in and the absurdity ramps up even harder. In fact, the movie constantly builds up to its climactic reveal. There were multiple times where I thought I had a theory of what happened, but then something else would happen that would contradict what I thought. Then within the last TEN minutes of the movie, the rug is pulled out from the audience’s feet and after a few WTF scenes, the movie ends. The audience at my theater burst out into a sea of “Huhs”, “What just happened?”, and “Are you f*$king kidding me?”. I may not remember the movie, but the ending is something that will stay with me. It’s hard to even categorize as good or bad because it just is.
A lot of the issues in the movie stem from a huge identity crisis. The movie want to teeter on the edge of psychological and supernatural. It wants the audience to not be sure. The issue is that instead of ambiguous directing that hints that there might be more at hand, every hint towards one genre or the other is heavy handed. They explicitly make the genre present as opposed to debatable which takes away a ton of the nuance. This problem becomes even more egregious in the third act, where certain characters start bringing up plot points that were barely touched on before. It feels like the movie didn’t want to commit to any path so it tried to be everything. The result is a mess that’s incomprehensible. It’s disappointing because the movie does a lot well.
For example, I think all the performances are on point. Mandell starts off bubbly and enthusiastic at the opportunity to teach and it comes off genuine (if a little too excited). She slowly becomes a wreck during the movie and feels just as confused as the audience (which definitely helps you relate to her frustrations). Both Wolfhard and Prince are great as the kids. They bounce off each other well and I can totally believe their sibling relationship. I loved Wolfhard in this movie. He’s usually the nice/funny kid but here he’s a total creeper. Weird lines, ominous edge, aggressive tendencies – he displays it all with gusto. That being said, the star of the show is Marten as the housekeeper, Mrs. Grose. She rides the line between creepy and doting well enough to maintain a sense of mystery about the true extent of her involvement in the unraveling horrors.
The movie is also shot and scored well. The camera is steady and there are a lot of picturesque scenes. I expected more shaky cam and jump scares, but the movie is fairly good at scares. There are jump scares, but none of them are patently false. Scares also linger in the background with noise, so you’re always asking yourself if you saw something move. Nathan Barr’s score is also great.
If the elements were just put together in a more coherent plot, I think the movie could’ve been something special. I personally love weird, ambiguous movies that are open to interpretation. The movie either needed to commit to the heart of the mystery it wanted to tell and then make the hints related to the same OR it needed to be consistent in direction at showing certain phenomena (this makes more sense in the spoiler section).
REPORT CARD
TLDR
The Turning is a movie that tries to be too many things and fails to be anything. It’s a suspenseful, harrowing journey that unfortunately doesn’t go anywhere. If you’re okay with awful/incoherent endings or like weird ambiguous movies there might be something here for you. I liked it and still think the movie leaves a lot to be desired. I do think waiting for a rental might be the move though.
Rating
5.5/10
Grade
F
Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion. Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .