Writer/director Mark P. Nelson is kind of fixated on the social
rifts in America.
His 2018 film Domestics followed the aftermath of an
apocalypse intentionally deployed by a ruling class looking to thin the herd.
The smaller herds only fracture into groups of radicalized, violent maniacs,
though, and even your white bread nuclear family types are threatened.
Which is to say, this filmmaker brings a different
perspective to the inbred cannibal franchise, Wrong Turn.
Yes, big city liberals on a hiking trip run afoul of Virginia
rednecks. But where Nelson varies from the script of the 2003 original is in reimagining
the antagonists.
We know there’s trouble afoot from the opening scene when Matthew Modine drives into the quaint Virginia town looking for his character Scott’s missing daughter (Charlotte Vega). The lovely blonde was last seen here, along with her African American boyfriend, another heterosexual couple, and a gay couple, one of whom is Muslim.
Because apparently not one of these people has ever seen a
horror movie.
The film gets into trouble early by conjuring moments from Tucker
and Dale vs Evil, which is a great movie. It’s an insightful lampooning
of movies just like the one Nelson is trying to make, though.
Nelson’s more successful when he borrows a bit from the
likes of Green Room and The Ritual, although he plants Wrong
Turn’s folkloric barbarism firmly on American soil. This is a film about
America.
If you’re looking for a movie about cannibal families, you
will most definitely be disappointed.
The horror is less unseemly, all of it in support of Nelson’s
image of a divided America. There are some startling moments of gore, and other
more harrowing ideas that suit the picture well.
Nelson takes too long getting to the point, unfortunately. The film runs just under two hours, which is at least 20 minutes too long. A trimmer runtime might have helped the film leave more of a mark. Instead, Wrong Turn is a decent if unremarkable backwoods thriller.
I mean, somebody must love them or who is it they influence? But horror definitely does not love them. Influencers have become the go-to objects of horror in recent years, seen as the vacuous product of a narcissistic culture that doesn’t value—or even make—human connections.
Meet Mia (Daisye Tutor). The rising makeup influencer has
way more followers than her two besties and her boyfriend, so they’re unhappy
when she pulls out of their livestream event this Saturday to dog sit for her
sister.
But being selfless is totally on brand for Mia, and another makeup
influencer just died trying to protect her own dog from a canine killer. Is it
guilt? Is it opportunism?
Neither. It’s a setup for the premise of Shook. Mia
is home alone with Chico (the dog, who’s awfully cute). But she’s never
unplugged and soon someone is playing life or death games with her.
Writer/director Jennifer Harrington’s film really begins
with a plot as old as the genre. It could be the babysitter and the escaped
lunatic, the point is to have a vulnerable (and acceptably stupid) young woman
alone, trying to protect those in her charge from an unseen and menacing force.
So, it doesn’t start out fresh, but movies have made a go of
this plot. Harrington layers in newer cliches derived from our collective,
plugged-in anxieties. The result is When a Stranger Calls meets Scream
meets Unfriended.
It feels exactly that derivative, a fact that doesn’t entirely sink the film. It definitely never lives up to its opening, though.
Harrington makes her most incisive comment about the
performance art that is influence culture as she pans back from a glamorous, opening
red carpet photo shoot to show the bleaker reality of the staged event. It’s a
smart, cinematic revelation that works on two levels.
Thematically, it underscores the film’s point about the
artifice of Mia’s life. As a horror movie, we’re suddenly aware that someone is
watching – someone who sees all of it.
Watching Shook, you’ll find solid filmmaking followed by two acts of uninspired, sometimes idiotic, sometimes enjoyable horror.
Is it ever too cold to ride? My God, yes – it is way too cold to ride. So instead, we invited our friend Jamie Ray from the Fave Five from Fans podcast to join us as we talk through our favorite chopper-themed horror flicks. Some of these are pretty bad – but so fun! – so prepare for a bumpy ride!
5. Deathmaster (1972)
Oh, there were so many terrible films that could have taken this final slot. Would it be Blood Freak? Chopper Chicks in Zombietown? Werewolves on Wheels?
So many choices!
Deathmaster gets the nod because it combines all the required elements – Satanism, hippies, and motorcycles – but it cranks it up a notch. This subgenre owes its very existence to Charles Manson, who braided those three elements together in the minds of Americans. But Deathmaster takes that one step further by creating a specifically Manson-like character—the charismatic guru Khorda – and making him a vampire.
Why is he a vampire? Maybe because they cast Robert Quarry (Count Yorga), who already had the teeth. Who knows, it comes off as utter nonsense, but it makes for a little fun variety.
4. These Are the Damned (1963)
Black leather, black leather, smash smash smash
Black leather, black leather, crash crash crash
Black leather, black leather, kill kill kill
I got that feelin’ – black leather rock
That, in a nutshell, is how dumb this movie is. And yet, like the ludicrous theme song, it’s just weird enough to stay in your head.
Oliver Reed is at his youngest, sultriest, Oliver Reediest as the street tough who chases his sister and her older American boyfriend right into some kind of underground lair where radioactive children are kept.
Suddenly you’re in what appears to be an entirely different movie. It’s like somebody sewed A Clockwork Orange and Village of the Damned together, buried them under rock, and them lobotomized the final version.
Which is kind of appealing, isn’t it?
3. Psychomania (The Death Wheelers) (1973)
More adorably sketchy Brit motorbikers in this one. Some mods wreak havoc on their bikes (because apparently drivers in England have no idea how much more vulnerable a bike is than a truck). But they crave more!
More danger! More excitement!
So they decide that if they kill themselves they can will themselves back to life and become hip zombie bikers.
The film’s appeal has a strange longevity. It’s never scary for even a moment, and it’s often outright ludicrous – if not adorable – but it does have a style and a couple of performances you can admire.
2. The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975)
Yes, Janet. Life’s pretty cheap to that type.
Whether it’s the Transylvanians traveling dto Time Warp with the doctor and his domestics, or the arrival (and quick removal) of Eddie, motorcycles play a significant role in this treasure of a film.
It was 1975, after all, and no self-respecting edgy, dangerous film could possibly convince the world of its anti-establishment bonafides if no one rode a motorcycle. It turns out, it’s the ones who aren’t riders you need to watch out for.
1. Race with the Devil (1975)
At some point somebody decided they were tired of seeing the motorcycle riders always turning out to be Satanic hippies. Nope, not this time.
The film re-teams Peter Fonda and Warren Oates – so great together in 1971’s The Hired Hand. They’re buddies taking a top-of-the-line RV out for a spin across Texas, along with their lovely wives. They stop to camp in the middle of nowhere, the guys take their bikes out for a stretch, and next thing you know, they’re being followed by Satanists and who knows which of these backwoods locals can be trusted?
The film generates real tension in much the same way Spielberg had done four years earlier with Duel. That tension, supported by solid, gritty performances, give this one surprising punch.
More than 30 years ago, the great Hayao Miyazaki released a
charming animated adventure that shadowed a little witch-in-training and her
talking cat. Kiki’s Delivery Service is more interested in children
finding their way in an adult world than in magic. The film is magical
nonetheless, thanks to Miyazaki’s gorgeous art.
This weekend, Studio Gibli—the house that Hayao
built—releases Earwig and the Witch. It’s the same movie, really, just
not nearly as good.
Earwig is left as an infant at a proud English orphanage,
where she stays for years tucked in among friends who do whatever she wants and
staff who do much the same. But she’s adopted one day by a witch and a demon
and she’s quite harrumphy about it all.
Director Gorō Miyazaki, Hayao’s son, keeps his focus on this willful little girl who intends to be a witch-in-training no matter what her new guardians expect.
Fans of the genre will immediately take umbrage at the
animation style. It’s definitely not his dad’s. Don’t expect the little (or
sometimes enormous) creatures that populate the fringes of classics like Spirited
Away or My Neighbor Totoro.
That’s hardly where the dissimilarities end. Earwig tosses
aside the sublime 2D look of traditional Gibli for a CG animation more in
keeping with Pixar’s output. But there’s no nuance, no beauty or humanity in the
rendering.
Anime fans may balk, but will children care?
Probably not, which means the film would be fine if only the younger Miyazaki had his father’s (or Pixar’s) grasp on basic storytelling. While Earwig conjures specific story details from Spirited Away and Howl’s Moving Castle, it fails to deliver on any of its plot suggestions. There’s a dungeonlike workroom brimming in equal measure with magical potential and filth, a mysterious redhead, a rock band, a shrouded heritage…all of which amounts to absolutely nothing.
Nothing ties together, and by the final scene’s reveal you feel like you’re watching the cliffhanger for an episodic series that you probably won’t commit to.
Fuzzy math takes over as we count cast members and celebrate minimalist films that can seep into your nightmares with the help of very few performers. There are some great options, but here are our six favorites films with 1, 2, or 3 people in the cast.
Thanks Fright Clubber Michael for the topic!
6. Hard Candy (2005)
It would be two years before Elliot Paige burst into public
consciousness as the hilarious and pregnant teen in Juno–still a kid
getting herself into trouble, I guess. But the trouble in Hard Candy is
tougher to manage.
Paige is a force of nature, playing off Patrick Wilson in a
cat-and-mouse game where roles are flexible. Director David Slade keeps
tensions ratcheted up to an unbearable level while Brian Nelson (who
collaborated with Spade on the underappreciated vampire flick 30 Days of Night)
twists the knife in a script as sharp and shady as these actors are wily and
hard edged. It’s a breathless exploration of all that’s bad in the world.
5. Buried (2010)
If you’re claustrophobic, you might want to sit this one
out. A tour de force meant to unveil Ryan Reynolds’s skill as an actor, Buried
spends a breathless 95 minutes inside a coffin with the lanky Canadian, who’s
left his quips on the surface.
Writer Chris Spalding stretches credibility as he tries to
keep the crises lively, which is unfortunate because the simple story and
Reynolds’s raw delivery makes this a gut-wrenching experience.
4. Creep (2014)
This true two-man show boasts dark and twisted humor, a
great jump scare, and a truly exceptional mask.
Writer/director Patrick Brice plays Aaron, hapless videographer
seeking work, thrills, maybe even love. He answers an ad to record Josef (Mark
Duplass) at home, and then on the road. The film toys with that inner warning
you hear and then choose to ignore.
Duplass has an incredible aptitude for pushing boundaries just
enough to prick that inner voice but not quite enough to guarantee that you’ll
head for the exit. As red flag after red flag go unheeded, Brice unveils more
and more chilling detail.
3. 10 Cloverfield Lane (2016)
This one is a threesome. Well, not if Howard (a glorious
John Goodman) has anything to say about it.
The feature debut from director Dan Trachtenberg toys with
the idea of an alien invasion (or some kind of chemical warfare), but it keeps
you snugly indoors with Howard and his guests Michelle (Mary Elizabeth
Winstead) and Emmett (John Gallagher Jr.). Guess which one Howard doesn’t
really want around?
The trio of performances compel your attention, even in the
few down moments. This is a tight, taut thrill ride—even if it is confined to
one guy’s basement.
2. Antichrist (2009)
Boy, Charlotte Gainsbourg and Willem Dafoe are a one/two
punch in this one. A married couple overcoming the guilt and desperate grief of
their son’s death, the two make some increasingly dreadful decisions.
Alone in their apartment, the two bodies take up much of the
screen. Once we move to the cabin in the woods, the colors become deeper and darker,
the atmosphere denser, and the actors appear almost tiny and insignificant
inside all this throbbing, living nature. Both performances are jarring and
fantastic in a movie quite unlike any other.
1. The Lighthouse (2019)
The one thing you just don’t do as you descend into madness
is spill your beans.
Dafoe again, this time with Robert Pattinson as his wickie
mate in one of the most fascinating examinations of power shifts in horror
history. Gorgeously photographed in black and white and boasting 2019’s best
sound design, The Lighthouse offers these two actors plenty to work
with.
But in the end, it’s the performances that kill you.
Madness!
Indiana Jones made archeology look thrilling and dangerous. Director
Simon Stone’s The Dig makes it look positively British.
Back in 1938, as England sat on the precipice of WWII, an informally trained excavator named Basil Brown unearthed an ancient Saxon ship in a mound around back of the widowed Edith Pretty’s land. Journalist/novelist John Preston’s aunt Margaret Piggott was part of the larger archeological crew at Sutton Hoo that would mine the site for its cultural riches. Many years later, Preston would mine that story for a novel.
Refined and marked by the proper restraint of the English, Moira
Buffini’s adaptation of the source material remains keenly interested in the
difference between what we unearth and what we leave buried. Stone’s film
shadows two romances and the emotions they choose to excavate as well as those
they do not.
Brown and Pretty are played by Ralph Fiennes and Carey
Mulligan, respectively. Fiennes finds a sweetly vulnerable center to Brown’s
guarded stoicism. Meanwhile Mulligan reminds us again of her limitless range,
playing essentially the opposite character of her bitingly brilliant Cassandra
in Promising Young Woman.
Watching the gentle dance these two impressive talents
engage in as their characters come to understand one another is hypnotic.
There’s rarely an excuse to miss the opportunity to see either Mulligan or
Fiennes act, and their delicate chemistry here is gorgeous.
Stone flavors his film and this relationship with notes of
longing and melancholy that balance the overall theme of discovery. And then a
sudden development—the arrival of Basil’s amiable and thoroughly loyal wife May
(Monica Dolan, irresistible)—does more to sever their tale than complicate it.
This odd second act shift – just when we’ve really begun to
invest in the primary relationship – turns Mulligan and Fiennes into supporting
players in their own movie. Johnny Flynn and Lily James take it from here, he
the attentive young RAF man in waiting and she the spunky
archeologist/unsatisfied newlywed.
Both actors are solid, as is the entire and sizable ensemble
of support, but the film feels out of sorts the moment the youngsters arrive.
It’s a lopsidedness The Dig never quite recovers from. Of course, had Mulligan and Fiennes not shone quite so brightly, it may not have been a problem at all.
There is something absurd and mesmerizing about Lance
Oppenheim’s documentary Some Kind of Heaven. The greens of the golf
courses are insanely green, the aquas of the pools are blindingly blue/green,
the synchrony of limbs or golf carts in the choreographed dances is hypnotic.
They have synchronized golf cart dances.
The Villages is nuts!
Sort of the Disneyland of retirement communities, Florida’s The Villages is a 100,000 strong city, gated and catering exclusively to elderly residents. Their town square is painted and constructed to look like a real town square – it even has a fake history that city tour guides will spin with a smile and a deep, savage tan.
This is a community of affluence ripe for satire in an era of catastrophic generational income inequality. Instead, Oppenheim finds a more melancholy and poignant inspiration. Rather than lampoon the wretched excess, the filmmaker develops character studies, unveiling something more bitter than sweet in this dessert topping of a town.
Anne and Reggie, married 47 years, began falling apart
before they moved to The Villages, but his recreational drug use and attempts
at spiritual awakening are taking a toll. A poignant look at loneliness inside
the happiest place in old age, the recently widowed Barbara works all day and
finds herself an outsider in a world full of vacant, smiling eyes.
But the true outsider is the seediest and most fascinating character of the bunch. Eighty-one-year-old Dennis cannot afford The Villages, but he’s not ashamed to scam his way in. Living in his van and preying on lonely women with money, he reminded me of the sublime Senior Love Trianglefrom 2020.
That comparison, though, only draws attention to the fairly
superficial treatment Oppenheim gives the subjects. Dennis seemed to be an opportunity
to comment on an unseemly reality seeping into this community, itself a
perversion of reality.
Oppenheim’s framing and David Bolen’s cinematography create
an unforgettable visual experience, preparing you for a Wes Anderson meets John
Waters documentary about rich old people synchronized swimming.
Well, that’s just too high a bar. Who could live up to that? Instead, Oppenheim settles for a little razzle dazzle, a little character intrigue, and enough footage to make you wonder what the hell goes on in The Villages.
It’s hard to tell a new story. People have been telling
stories since the beginning of people, and eventually – probably millennia ago –
we realized we were just recycling the same dozen or so tales.
This week’s Shudder premiere, director Vincent Paronnaud’s Hunted,
feels especially familiar. He knows that, presumably, or the woman being chased
through a massive forest wouldn’t be wearing a red hooded coat.
It’s clear in every aspect of the telling of this story that the filmmaker (and a team of writers including Paronnaud, Lea Pernollet and David H. Pickering) want you to understand how familiar this is.
Indeed, Paronnaud’s tale of a man chasing a woman is so
ordinary that no matter how outlandish the circumstances, onlookers barely
register it as more than a moment’s blip in their day.
Hunted opens with a fairy tale, spun by fireside in a
deep, dark woods, of a group of men who turn on a woman. In this ancient lore,
things don’t turn out so well for the men, not because a savior steps in but
because of something more primal.
And so, eons later, the aptly named Eve (Lucie Debay) is
dealing with a boss who underestimates her and a husband who can’t stop
calling. She goes out for a drink. That might have been the last we ever heard
from Eve.
Instead, after a series of events that escalate beyond the point
of realism to something bordering on the absurd, the whole damn forest hears
her.
Debay’s transformation is also marked very obviously and very visually, underscoring the cartoonish nature of this particular enactment. She does a wonderful job of evolving from something in Act 1 that feels garden variety for horror into something surprising and fierce.
Arieh Worthalter equals her as the psychopath, often lensed
to give him the look of an animated wolf charming villagers.
Paronnaud’s background is in animation—he co-directed
Marjane Satrapi’s sublime black and white wonder Persepolis. His move to
horror benefits from his visual flair. While the red coat stands out as an
obvious nod (not to mention terrible camouflage), a later splash of blue feels
simultaneously insane and warrior-like.
And please, if you have not sought it out yet, a film that made our Best of 2019 list—Devil to Pay—is finally available. So, while we won’t add it to this year’s list, please do watch it!
In the meantime, here are our picks for the ten best horror films of 2020.
10. His House
A remarkable braiding of human tragedy, global political peril and traditional ghost story, co-writer/director Remi Weekes’s His House was one of 2020’s great surprises. Two powerful lead performances from Sope Dirisu and Lovecraft Country’s Wumni Mosaku pull you into the story of South Sudanese refugees Vol (Dirisu) and Rial (Mosaku). You ache for them as they try to find a way to fit into their new life in London—a life where so many other refugees have failed.
Tension builds quietly but steadily as the two navigate
their new community and the rules good refugees must follow, but worry for them
and their security leaps to new heights as certain horrors bring about risky
behavior. You never know whether you’re more worried that they’ll be sent back
or they’ll have to stay.
Mosaku’s stare is weightier and more powerful than anything else
you’ll encounter in this film, but it’s balanced by the vulnerability Dirisu
brings to Bol. The two deliver an urgent and profound message about guilt,
tragedy and forgiveness.
9. She Dies Tomorrow
She Dies Tomorrow is a horror film that’s one part Coherence, one part The Beach House, one part The Signal (2007, not 2014) and yet somehow entirely its own. It helps that so few people have seen any of those other movies, but the truth is that writer/director Amy Seimetz (creator of The Girlfriend Experience) is simply braiding together themes that have quietly influenced SciFi horror hybrids of late. What she does with these themes is pretty remarkable.
Her film weaves in and out of the current moment, delivering a dreamlike structure that suits its trippy premise. Amy (Kate Lyn Sheil) believes she is going to die tomorrow. She knows it. She’s sure.
She calls her friend Jane (the always amazing Jane Adams), who senses that Amy is not OK but has this obligation to go to her sister-in-law’s party…whatever, she’ll stop over on her way.
By the time Jane gets to the party, she’s also quite certain she will die tomorrow. It isn’t long before the partygoers sense their own imminent deaths; meanwhile, Amy is spreading her perception contagion elsewhere.
8. Gretel & Hansel
Sophia Lillis (IT) narrates and stars as Gretel, the center of this coming of age story—reasonable, given the change of billing suggested by the film’s title. The witch may still have a tasty meal on her mind, but this is less a cautionary tale than it is a metaphor for agency over obligation.
Alice Krige and her cheekbones strike the perfect mixture of menace and mentorship, while Sammy Leakey’s little Hansel manages to be both adorable and tiresome, as is required for the story to work.
Perkins continues to impress with his talent for visual storytelling and Galo Olivares’s cinematography heightens the film’s folkloric atmosphere.
There’s no escaping this spell. The whole affair feels like an intriguing dream.
7. The Other Lamb
The first step toward freedom is telling your own story.
Writer C.S. McMullen and director Malgorzata Szumowska tell this one really well. Between McMullen’s outrage and the macabre lyricism of Szumowska’s camera, The Other Lamb offers a dark, angry and satisfying coming-of-age tale.
Selah’s (Raffey Cassity) first period and her commune’s migration to a new and more isolated Eden offer the tale some structure. Like many a horror film, The Other Lamb occupies itself with burgeoning womanhood, the end of innocence. Unlike most others in the genre, Szumowska’s film depicts this as a time of finding your own power.
The Other Lamb does not simply suggest you question authority. It demands that you do far more than that, and do it for your own good.
6. The Lodge
Several Fiala and Veronika Franz follow up their creepy Goodnight Mommy with this “white death” horror that sees a future stepmom having a tough time getting to know the kids during a weeklong, snowbound cabin retreat. Riley Keough is riding an impressive run of performances and her work here is slippery and wonderful. As the unwanted new member in the family, she’s sympathetic but also brittle.
Jaeden Martell, a kid who has yet to deliver a less than impressive turn, is the human heartbeat at the center of the mystery in the cabin. His tenderness gives the film a quiet, pleading tragedy. Whether he’s comforting his grieving little sister or begging Grace (Keough) to come in from the snow, his performance aches and you ache with him.
There’s no denying the mounting dread the filmmakers create, and the three central performances are uniquely effective. Thanks to the actors’ commitment and the filmmakers’ skill in atmospheric horror, the movie grips you, makes you cold and uncomfortable, and ends with a memorable slap.
5. The Dark and the Wicked
Bryan Bertino is not a filmmaker to let his audience off the hook—if you’ve seen The Strangers, you know that. Like that effort, TD&TW is a slow burn with nerves fraying inside an isolated farmhouse as noises, shadows, and menacing figures lurk outside.
Bertino and cinematographer Tom Schraeder work the darkness in and around a goat farm to create a lingering, roaming dread. But where Bertino, who also writes, scores extra points is in crafting believable characters.
Too often in horror you find wildly dramatic behavior in the face of the supernatural. One character adamantly denies and defies what is clearly happening while another desperately tries to communicate with “it.” No one would do either, but this is the best way to serve the needed action to come in lesser films.
4. The Wolf of Snow Hollow
Two years ago. Thunder Road was a pretty fantastic breakout for writer/director/star Jim Cummings. A visionary character study with alternating moments of heart and hilarity, it felt like recognizable pieces molded into something bracingly original.
Now, Cummings feels it’s time to throw in some werewolves.
Cummings is officer John Marshall of the Snow Hollow sheriff’s department. John’s father (Robert Forster, in his final role) is the longtime sheriff of the small ski resort town, but Dad’s reached the age and condition where John feels he’s really the one in charge.
John’s also a recovering alcoholic with a hot temper, a bitter ex-wife and a teen daughter who doesn’t like him much. But when a young ski bunny gets slaughtered near the hot tub under a full moon, suddenly John’s got a much bigger, much bloodier problem.
At its core, The Wold of Snow Hollow is a super deluxe re-write of Thunder Road with werewolves. I call that a bloody good time.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OP2m2pG6Qn4
3. Werewolf
Liberation isn’t always the good time it’s cracked up to be. In his strangely hopeful tale Werewolf, writer/director Adrian Panek offers a different image of social rebuilding.
Werewolf is beautifully shot, inside the crumbling castle, out in the woods, even in the early, jarring nonchalance of the concentration camp’s brutality. Panek hints at supernatural elements afoot, but the magic in his film is less metaphorical than that.
The film is creepy and tense. It speaks of the unspeakable – the level of evil that can only really be understood through images of Nazi horror—but it sees a path back to something unspoiled.
2. Swallow
Putting a relevant twist on the classic “horrific mother” trope, writer/director Carlo Mirabella-Davis uses the rare eating disorder pica to anchor his exploration of gender dynamics and, in particular, control.
Where Mirabella-Davis’s talent for building tension and framing scenes drive the narrative, it’s Bennett’s performance that elevates the film. Serving as executive producer as well as star, Haley Bennett transforms over the course of the film.
When things finally burst, director and star shake off the traditional storytelling, the Yellow Wallpaper or Awakening or even Safe. The filmmaker’s vision and imagery come full circle with a bold conclusion worthy of Bennett’s performance.
1. Possessor
Brandon Cronenberg’s created a gorgeous techno world, its lulling disorientation punctuated by some of the most visceral horror to make it to the screen this year. There is something admirably confident about showing your influences this brazenly.
Credit Cronenberg, too, for the forethought to cast the two leads as females (Jennifer Jason Leigh playing the remarkable Andrea Riseborough’s boss). The theme of the film, if driven by males, would have been passe and obvious. With females, though, it’s not only more relevant and vital, but more of a gut punch when the time comes to cash the check.
Possessor is a meditation on identity, sometimes very obviously so, but the underlying message takes that concept and stabs you in your still-beating heart with it.
