Salt Along the Tongue

by Matt Weiner

It should be a given that any good exorcism movie worth its, well, salt comes with a massive trigger warning for emetophobia – fear of vomiting. And that applies to the stylish and sensuous Salt Along the Tongue, sure. But the gripping new possession horror from writer-director Parish Malfitano spends more time reveling in the potent allure of food and its power to bring together cultures, families and more than a few primordial memories that have been buried far too long.

Awkward and shy Mattia (Laneikka Denne) has her insular life turned upside down when her mother Mina (Dina Panozzo) dies suddenly. While Mattia would prefer to stay with Mina’s pregnant partner Yuma (Mayu Iwasaki), the lack of a specified guardian forces her to move in with Mina’s estranged twin sister, Carol (also Panozzo).

The boisterous and self-assured Carol welcomes Mattia into her confident world. Carol stars in a cooking show that she films with her friends and partner. Mattia has inherited her family’s aptitude for cooking (if not her aunt’s camera-ready demeanor), and Carol swiftly thrusts Mattia onto the show. The all-female cast gives Mattia a safe sisterhood to assert her own identity while working through the trauma and grief of her mother’s passing.

Soon this trauma seems to take on a malevolent physical form. Carol suspects the work of the malocchio (evil eye), which the film tells us is a curse caused by envy or jealousy. But whether the culprit is Mattia, the work of Mina from beyond the grave or something else entirely is a mystery Carol needs to solve before the entity fully takes over Mattia and destroys Carol.

Given the budget, the film’s horror draws from the atmospheric and thematic side over splashy scares. But this ends up being an asset under Malfitano’s direction. There’s a pervasive tension that echoes the film’s clear influences from both The Exorcist and Rosemary’s Baby, with the ratcheting unease and stomach-churning secrets providing more than enough shocks.

There are some threads that you wish Malfitano pulled on a little harder. The film sets up so much visually, including some clever doubling between Mina/Carol and Mattia, that the actual climax felt almost rushed and perfunctory. 

But Malfitano and the film’s stars do a lot with what they have. The food on display opens up a gateway to illicit desires and the past, with Proustian reverie giving way to demonic nightmares. There’s more than enough to chew on here.