A projector starts up and the guttural mechanical sounds of its inner workings cloud the soundscape. Super 8 footage emits from the unseen machine depicting a family, each member of which has their head covered by a bag, being hung on a tree. The gritty footage is augmented by the abrasive noises of the projector – the footage takes on a disturbing home-made quality. Every member of the domestic unit is executed when a tree branch is cut by an entity not shown on the screen. As the family’s feet stop moving, the title card crops up in the lower right corner of the frame, as if etched out against the grain of the celluloid.

Post title sequence, the viewer is introduced to the film’s protagonist, Ellison (Ethan Hawke), a writer moving to a new house in an effort to find materials to publish a new best-seller. However, his move is interrupted by a sheriff (Fred Thompson) who accosts him and gives the audience Ellison’s relevant backstory: the writer published a best-seller but struck out with his subsequent novels which not only painted law enforcement as incompetent but also incorrectly assessed the nature of situations being documented. It becomes clear that this current book is Ellison’s attempt at striking gold once more after a set of failures.

Before leaving, the sheriff mentions that Elliot’s pursuits will only bring up answers that no one wants to know and that his decision to move into the house he’s chosen is disrespectful in light of the circumstances surrounding the disappearance. Both warning and condemnation alike are ignored by Elliot who waives the sheriff off. This interaction is noted by Ellison’s wife, Tracy (Juliet Rylance), who asks her husband what the altercation was about. She hesitatingly questions if the house the family has moved into is next to a murder site again, implying that Elliot has made the family move to dangerous locations before. He assuages her concerns and confirms the house is not neighboring a murder location. But as he stares at the same broken tree from the snuff film from the opening, it becomes clear that he’s moved his family into an abyss where a family was hung. Far from keeping the family some proximity away from the terrors of his investigative work, he’s brought them right into the heart of darkness.

The all-encompassing evil surrounding his family makes its appearance felt as the four-person unit eats dinner in complete black. They don’t know what Elliot has dragged them into and act in total bliss, unaware of the abyss slowly encroaching from all around. Unfortunately, this façade is one doomed to collapse as Elliot discovers when he goes upstairs to do some unpacking. He notices a black scorpion near a box filled with super 8 film reels. Suddenly, the title sequence rears its ugly head again – the scorpion becomes an emissary of terrible things to come.

Alas, Elliot is unaware of these connections and takes the box of “home videos” downstairs after trying to dispatch the scorpion. He goes into his private study, far from the eyes of his family, and starts to play the tapes. At first, the super 8 footage depicts a peaceful domestic image; a family plays around while having a joyous looking picnic. However, this idyllic image is shattered as the jittery footage cuts to the title sequence’s footage – it becomes clear that this cheerful family is the same one the viewer saw being hung. Now, Elliot has seen the same. Now, the tree in his backyard seems all the more ominous. Now, evil has made its presence brazenly known.

Perturbed by the experience, Elliot goes outside to check on the tree and is confronted by its looming presence. It’s as if the spirits of the family still linger from where they were executed, warning Elliot of what’s to come. Nevertheless, he persists and goes back to his study to continue investigating the demented home films.

But the footage proves to be too much. Each film he watches follows the same pattern – a peaceful vision of a family which is followed by their gruesome execution. Finally, the violence erupts and totally breaks Elliot down. Shocked and disgusted, he takes out phone and dials the police, ready to get legal enforcement in on an issue which seems to be more heinous than he previously imagined.

And then he stops. He looks up and sees a stack of his bestseller, Kentucky Blood, sitting perched on a shelf under a bright light, a limelight from a past age. The decadent red color of the books entrance Elliot; within them, he sees this case as a chance at being great all over again. The allure of greatness takes precedence over all else, and he turns the phone off. A decision made that cannot be undone.

This is the heart of Sinister and where the film excels: the story of a writer pursuing the restoration of his status at all else, making a Faustian deal with to get back in the limelight. The film spends the entirety of its run-time with Elliot as he attempts to discover the root of the mystery, the reason behind the murders, and the connective tissue behind the tapes. The more he watches the found-footage films, the more he gets invested. Because we’re forced to watch with him, the same sense of morbid curiosity infects us. Even though the conclusion of each tape is foregone, there’s a horrific spell cast that makes it impossible to avert the eyes from the screen. It’s in these moments, watching a man watch horror films, that Sinister manages to unnerve the most. The true crime feeling gives the supernatural events captured on the home videos gone wrong a palpable malevolence – they’re meanspirited and get under the skin because of how vicious and unforgiving they are.

These moments gain their power not from gore but from their propensity at triggering the viewer’s imagination. At a fundamental level, there’s something creepy about super 8 film stock because of the way the texture of it obfuscates and “dirties” the image. There’s an uncomfortable grittiness that’s always present. Normal images are distorted enough to feel unnerving, but the hellish and inexplainable nature of what’s depicted only amplify the feeling. Sinister takes this unease and transforms it into palpable dread with its sound design. Along with the sounds of the projector, the film utilizes distortions, scratches, incomplete jumbles, demonic choral riffs, and other sonic oddities to create states of paranoia. Something is always buzzing or disconcerting enough to create worry. Because of this, the viewer is forced to think about where the noise is coming from and what it has to do with the image. There’s a fundamental disconnect between what’s going on and that sense of mystery is what generates unease and causes one’s thoughts to run wild. Like Tobe Hooper’s The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, Sinister evokes the feeling that one has seen gore of the most depraved kind even when no gore has been shown purely by stimulating unconscious fears regarding the situation.

It’s precisely when the film tries to explain the nature of its supernatural set-up and remove the level of mystery that it suffers; the unconscious fears that had previously been building up fizzle out as the direct explanation of the spectral undermines the unease by which it operates. The film goes for these more overt gestures in order to engage in predictable, expendable jump-scare sequences that pad the story until it ends. In fact, once the last home movie is played, there’s a significant drop in narrative momentum, as the film becomes lost on how to effectively move the characters to the next story beat.

This should not have been the case; the terrors should have been built around and upon Elliot’s compromised relationship with his family and his obsessive pursuit of a glorious time at the cost of everything else. It is precisely in the destruction of the idyllic family life that Sinister disturbs deepest, so the larger story should have been focused more on the disintegration of the family unit in relation Elliot’s decision; however, the film only ever shows his arguments with Tracy and even those play second-fiddle to the film’s investigation into the actual nature of the supernatural mystery, which as previously mentioned, undermines what makes the film effective. Consequently, the tension that the first half excels in is lost for much of the latter portion of the film as both character and narrative momentum is squandered on cheap thrills that pale in comparison to the frights from before.

This pivot in focus is a shame because it squanders Ethan Hawke’s grounded and terrified character work which otherwise laid out a perfect foundation on which to build the film. His emphatic reactions to the home movies is part of the reason they come off as so disturbing. There’s a visceral pain he imparts upon seeing the families meet their end. But then this pain is juxtaposed against the ambition in his eyes that props up every time he’s reminded of his past. Both heaven and hell are present in his gaze and lets the viewer at least understand his character’s actions even the consequences seem disastrous.

Thankfully, the final few minutes of the film bring the narrative back to the threads that made it compelling to begin with, both subverting the the haunted house story and resolving Elliot’s arc in satisfying fashion. It’s a far cry from the potential hinted at in the opening act, but Sinister‘s craft, mood, and performance carry its uneven narrative to terrifying heights.

REPORT CARD

Go to Page 2 for the spoiler discussion and more in-depth analysis.
Go to Page 3 to view this review’s progress report .