For the record, excitable quotes like "Heredity takes its place as a new generation's The Exorcist" does zero favors for either film. IMHO, this new film bears as much resemblance to Bill Friedkin's grueling art / s(c)h(l)ock masterpiece as Time Out contributor Joshua Rothkopf does to a knowledgeable horror movie critic. Make no mistake, Hereditary wears its influences on its sleeve, but the power of its execution and the depth of its subtext ensures that the movie is its own animal.
Toni Collette plays Annie Graham, a woman mourning the protracted and painful death of her cold and secretive mother. It's just the latest blow to a family that seems cursed with chronic mental illness and suicide. It's so prevalent that Annie's psychiatrist husband Steve (Gabriel Byrne) is powerless to exorcise the cloud of misery that lingers in their home like a dark physical presence. This pall is clearly taking a toll on their insular and fragile daughter Charlie (Milly Shapiro) and their withdrawn and uncommunicative teen-aged son Peter (Alex Wolff).
Almost inevitably, tragedy strikes again, fracturing the family in such an unimaginable way that Annie believes supernatural manipulation is at work. An escalating series of odd things start to occur leading to a Gotterdammerung-style climax that will leave most viewers feeling as if they were struck in the head with a 2 x 4, And even though the finale is increasingly-steeped in cheesy scary movie tropes, veteran horror hounds like myself will still be put off-kilter thanks to how well it's realized and how freakin' weird the whole thing is.
With auteur film-making becoming increasingly rare, its refreshing to watch a movie that's clearly the product of one person's vision. To that point, if you're looking for a committee-made, thrill-a-minute fright fest you'd be well-advised to look elsewhere. First time feature writer / director Ari Aster deliberately thumbs his nose at modern sensibilities, taking his sweet ass-time to establish his characters and the harmful, oppressive environment they're marinating in. Thankfully, both creator and viewer are rewarded for their patience because when things inevitably start to go shit-house, we're deeply invested by then and want to see how things shake out.
Aster shows considerably visual acuity, using plenty of Kubrickian symmetry to create an eerie, unnatural visual tableau. He also clearly likes to use depth of focus to plant startling sights in the background to freak out the viewer. Sorry, but if I have a choice between loud, boisterous and showy special effects extravaganzas like The Conjuring or Insidious, I'll take sly and understated every time. Nothing gives me the creeps quicker than barely catching some bizarre, half-glimpsed oddity lurking in the hinterland of a movie frame.
And while the visual shocks are effective, what makes the film greater then the sum of its parts is the treasure trove of subtext lurking just below the surface. The opening shot is particularly telling. It starts on the tree house; a completely innocuous structure that eventually reveals its importance later on in the film. The camera pulls back from this into Annie's studio, pivots over to the model of their home and then slowly zooms in on a miniature version of Peter's room. When this tiny diorama suddenly springs to life, the mind reels.
It's not just subtext, it's the sheer depth of the subtext that I marvel at. For example, it doesn't take a clinical psychologist to realize that Annie's profession is designed to compartmentalize and deal with her family's pain. At one point she even designs a diorama inspired by the film's most heart-wrenching moment, an act that confounds and horrifies her psychologist husband. To me, that opening shot is more than just Aster suggesting that higher powers are at work and the characters are just pawns in a labyrinthine construct. It suggest that Annie herself is the creator of the film's sensationalist threats.
To further this point, Aster realized the Graham's home as a series of interior stage sets, giving the environments the appearance and feel of a giant doll-house. The resulting viewing experience is decidedly voyeuristic, as if you're watching something that you shouldn't be privy to. And when these environments get back-filled with oddball visuals and creepy ambient sound effects, the effect is downright unnerving.
As Hereditary surrenders its secrets, the script is forced to embrace certain genre conventions. But by linking these revelations directly to Annie's lineage, a hoary old horror movie trope becomes a powerful analogy for her family's genetic-like predisposition towards mental illness. Mercifully, Aster's cool direction, eye for twisted imagery and willingness to go for broke all help to elevate the film's pedigree.
The film's note-perfect performances also prevent the film from tipping into self-parody. Given all of the rigorous emotional gymnastics that Toni Collette is asked to navigate, it's to her credit that she doesn't betray a single miss-step. Gabriel Byrne is appropriately world-weary and laconic as Annie's put-upon husband Steve. Milly Shapiro's unforgettable debut as Charlie is nothing short of heart-breaking. She deserves some major props since most young actors wouldn't be able to make such a sullen, weird and petulant kid so sympathetic.
Perhaps the most interesting performance is that of Alex Wolff who plays Peter. Detached and distant for most of the film, Wolff makes a bold move during the seance scene, manifesting infantile levels of grief. This was pretty off-putting to me at first but then I thought about Wolff's motivation in this scene. By this point in time, Peter is a powder keg of bottled-up emotions, so when he finally breaks, it makes sense that it's messy. It also draws some interesting comparisons to his little sister, a choice that begs further scrutiny.
Having said that, there are a few baffling miss-steps during the finale. An anticipated moment of Oedipus-style self-mutilation, constantly hinted at, never materializes on-screen. In a another missed opportunity, a symbol referenced throughout the film could have been used to great effect, but it's also conspicuously absent. In its place, Aster serves up a clunky exposition dump delivered by an off-camera narrator which feels as if it was decreed by some wrong-headed test audience screening.
Perhaps the best thing I can say about Hereditary is that it virtually demands to be viewed a second time. Personally, I'm can't wait to re-watch it again for the express purpose of looking for early tells, especially anything that might fuel my own personal interpretation of the film. For that reason alone, I recognize Hereditary as a genuine artistic achievement that's sure to inspire debate and analysis for years to come.
Tilt: up.
