Tag Archives: Horror

In Fabric (2019): Killer Clothes

In Fabric is the story of a killer dress – literally. Somewhere in England, Sheila Woodchapel (Marianne Jean-Baptiste; Without a Trace), a divorced mom, eyes a striking red dress on sale at a local department store and, after speaking with the strange staff, she decides to buy it for an upcoming date. Later in the film, the dress is worn by a soon-to-be-married appliance mechanic named Reg Speaks (Leo Bill; 28 Days Later) as a joke for his bachelor party. In both cases the dress interferes with their sanity and has a devastating impact on their lives.

Director Peter Strickland (Berberian Sound Studio) attempts an eerie tone that doesn’t culminate in anything. The film’s style is a mix of giallo and David Lynch that seems intriguing at first. The visuals, the film’s strongest component, are filled with the searing reds and greens from the giallo genre and the acting would easily fit into most of Lynch’s films. The department store workers speak as if from another reality with flowery, verbose descriptions of clothing and an unnatural cadence. They, with their powdery white makeup, are practically an entire team of lesser Mystery Men from Lost Highway. Their dialect implies some ulterior motive, but what that motive is or how it relates to the Sheila or Reg is never explained or made meaningful. It’s hinted that it may be the dress itself, somehow sentient, that is behind the tormenting of its wearers, but its purpose is also unexplored.

The store staff ultimately adds very little to the film.

The first half, focused on Sheila, is by far the stronger story. Jean-Baptiste is sympathetic as a mom providing for her adult son, but also lonely after her divorce and her simple goal of looking sharp and meeting someone is very relatable. She works as a bank teller and reports to a pair of middle managers that appear to be Strickland’s attempt at satire of convoluted corporate procedures. These two repeatedly call in Sheila for minor transgressions, like the use an informal greeting, and have an interesting dynamic as they finish each other’s sentences but feel like they were pulled out of Terry Gilliam’s Brazil rather than this film. After the narrative changes protagonists, it loses most of the minor interest it had created. When Reg enters the film, he encounters many of the same issues Sheila had with the dress in the same exact way. His section adds little to what has been shown as the film essentially repeats itself with the dress targeting a new victim.

Films can be obtuse and open-ended, but In Fabric fails to create and maintain emotional investment. At times, it appears to be a horror movie about a cursed garment, but the changing characters and lack of background prevent the viewer from being engaged with the horror. There isn’t a human slasher villain, only a literal piece of cloth. This is a gigantic hurdle for Strickland to overcome to create any fear in the audience and he, unfortunately, is unable to. There seem to be moments of satire aimed at consumerism, characters constantly talk about sales, or potentially materialism, the store staff is aroused by their mannequins, but these are at the periphery. Its vivid colors and attempts at a surreal tone are not enough to compensate for In Fabric’s lack of emotional connection and tension in its horror premise.

2/5 stars.

The Lighthouse (2019): Strange, but Not Scary

Refusing to fit the mold of standard horror films, Robert Eggers (The Witch) has created another hyper-specific period piece, albeit with poor results. Winslow (Robert Pattinson; Good Time) is brought to a remote island to work as a lighthouse keeper under the supervision of Wake (Willem Dafoe; The Florida Project). The men begin a terse working relationship, but animosity grows as the two develop suspicions about each other’s intentions.

If nothing else, the film is devoted to its aesthetic. Eggers, a former production designer, has created a world worn down by the ocean. The lighthouse has a brick façade with weathered paint and the ramshackle house they live in is cramped and broken-down. The buildings are built for functionality, not comfort and it adds to the prison-like feeling of the location. Eggers also chooses to avoid modern conventions by neither shooting his film in color nor in widescreen to add to the period’s authenticity. While other filmmakers often use black and white out of nostalgia or beauty, Eggers uses it for its harshness. The visuals are in the vein of German Expressionism and hint at the potential for insanity, even if the film isn’t able to add meaning to that insanity.

The film’s cohesive visuals are its strongest asset.

Pattinson and Dafoe carry nearly the entire film and are fully invested in their roles. Neither Winslow nor Wake seem like the kind of people anyone would want to be stuck on a remote island with. Both appear to be hiding some part of their past. Pattinson’s Winslow is, comparatively, the relatable character. He wants to avoid small talk or drinking and focus on the work ahead until their tour of duty is over. Dafoe’s Wake has other interests in mind. He is cranky, impulsive, and enjoys his power over Winslow as he demeans him and has him slave over difficult, unnecessary tasks for his own sadistic pleasure. There are moments when he appears to be kind as he invites Winslow to drink with him, but behind each of these actions is a short, potentially dangerous temper. His impulsiveness and cruelty is what allows for the Winslow’s suspicions to form.

Eggers uses the dynamic between Winslow and Wake and their isolation to fuel to film’s mystery. As Winslow is mistreated by Wake, he begins to doubt Wake’s intentions. He suspects that Wake is hiding something from him when he refuses to let him onto the top floor of the lighthouse. Additionally, in his loneliness, Winslow begins to see strange occurrences like animals behaving oddly and images that may or may not be hallucinations. The unknown combined with the potentially unhinged thoughts lead to several strange scenes of erratic behavior that range from rude to oddly humorous to aggressive. As unique as the situations may be, the film’s failing is that these moments don’t progressively build on each other. They instead feel like only partially connected abnormalities. In The Witch, a film that was also built on mistrust with a potentially supernatural bent, every scene escalated the story’s tension in a cohesive direction that built to a conclusion in line with the bizarre events that preceded it. In The Lighthouse, committed performances and distinctive visuals can’t save a narrative that never unites its unusual digressions to create tension, horror, or an ending that gives meaning to the bizarre occurrences.

2/5 stars.

Ready or Not (2019): Playful and Bloody Kill Scenes

Meeting your in-laws right before your wedding can be a stressful experience. Will they accept you as part of their family or will things start off on the wrong foot? In the case of Grace (Samara Weaving; Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri), assimilation is a dangerous task. She is marrying into the Le Domas family, a wealthy lineage that made their fortune on selling board games and playing cards. She learns from her fiancé about a tradition that anyone joining the family needs to draw a card at midnight and play whatever game they draw. Grace picks hide and seek and runs off to find a spot. Unbeknownst to her, she has drawn the wrong card. The family grabs antique weaponry for a life or death game. They believe that their ancestor made a deal with a mysterious man that has granted them their extreme wealth and that they will lose everything, including their lives, if they don’t kill Grace before sunrise.

Fittingly, Ready or Not has a playful tone. When characters are killed, it is often in slapstick fashion. Some family members use crossbows to hunt Grace and the limitations of the weapons and the family’s inability to properly use them leads to accidental deaths of their house staff. The deaths, while bloody, are comedic as characters argue with each other instead of reacting to a nanny getting half her head blown off. Melanie Scrofano (Pure Pwnage) is hilarious as Grace’s incompetent, drug-addicted sister-in-law. She alternates between cocaine and sedatives as she tries to get in the right state of mind to find and kill Grace, but fumbles every opportunity. Her earnest frustration with herself keeps the situations light and distracts from the gruesome deaths.

The family dynamics turn the film into a horror-comedy.

The film takes place in a gargantuan, Gothic style mansion that is the perfect environment for hide and seek. There are several floors, dozens of rooms, secret “servant hallways”, and a large surrounding estate. The castle-like structure is replete with hiding spots, but also unfamiliar to Grace as she opens doors without knowing where they lead. It provides ample tension since a gun-toting in-law may be just around the corner, but also relieves that same tension when the family stops to strategize only for Grace to mistakenly walk right in front of them.

As the unfortunate player, Weaving is sympathetic. Her horror and confusion as she witnesses the first accidental kill and realizes the stakes of her situation are relatable, but it is her turn from prey to predator that makes the film. Weaving, who looks like she could be Margot Robbie’s younger sister, quickly swaps her high heels for sneakers and tears her long wedding dress so she can effectively creep around the house. She morphs from the victim to a threat to her attackers as she stops hiding and starts hunting. There could be a metaphor here about the behavior of the ultra-rich and the horrific lengths they are willing to go to preserve their status, but directors Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett (V/H/S) have little interest in deeper meanings. Instead, Ready or Not is a fun excuse for kill scenes that are as bloody as they are playful.

3/5 stars.

Midsommar (2019): Striking Vision, Lackluster Narrative

Dani (Florence Pugh; Lady Macbeth) is a young woman in a rocky relationship with her boyfriend Christian (Jack Reynor; Sing Street) when tragedy strikes. Her world is changed and Christian’s plan to break up with her is suspended in the midst of her suffering. Unable to say to no to her, Christian invites Dani to join him on a trip to his classmate’s hometown in Sweden to observe their traditional midsummer festival, a trip that he had initially planned without her. The celebration proves to be something far beyond what they could have ever expected.

The most striking difference between Midsommar and its peers is its visuals. Horror movies, in general, take place in the dark, the shadows, or otherwise obfuscated areas relying on the potential unseen to create fear. Director Ari Aster (Hereditary) has instead created a sun-drenched, idyllic landscape. The commune is in a lush area with brightly colored buildings that, on the surface, appear welcoming. The residents happily greet their visitors, but the picturesque setting quickly begins to raise alarm. The film’s atmosphere becomes uncomfortable as things are too perfect and the bright setting appears to hide a much darker truth underneath.

Aster displays incredible talent, but doesn’t sustain it throughout the movie. There are innovative scene transitions that seamlessly move viewers from one location to the next and a great use of tension early on. The initial event that changes Dani’s life is presented so subtly that the reveal is horrifying is its simple, but grisly details. He is a director that has a knack for letting the audience know that something is wrong, even when everything appears normal. However, this effect lessens as the film progresses. Aster is able to create mystery and discomfort when the characters and settings are unfamiliar, but can’t maintain the atmosphere for the film’s runtime.

The sunny grasslands are still an uncomfortable setting.

Pugh again proves herself to be an incredible actress. As Dani she is depressed, anxious, and eager to please with a growing distrust of her boyfriend and their relationship. Pugh makes Dani’s manic behavior believable and, while often irrational, she still engenders sympathy given circumstances. Her character arch is similar to Charlotte Gainsbourg’s character in Melancholia. She is initially the “crazy” one, but as their situation becomes increasingly bizarre, she seems the most at home. Her neediness and the fragile nature of her relationship with Christian deserves particular praise. Pugh’s performance captures Dani’s desperation for companionship, even with her suspicion that their relationship is nearing its end.

Like Hereditary, the film’s atmosphere isn’t able to make up for its narrative. As Midsommar continues and the true nature of the festival and the community are revealed, the film loses most of its appeal. These story beats are strange, but mostly elaborate on the nefarious nature of the cult in ways that aren’t particularly original or interesting. There some disturbing decisions made, but at that point the characters have become so far removed from reality with their acceptance of some of the shocking traditions that there is little connection or emotional impact to their outcomes. It has an incredible setting and a striking vision, but they aren’t enough to overcome Midsommar’s narrative problems.

2/5 stars.

Us (2019): Double Trouble

Us is the story of a vacationing family that is visited by unwanted guests. Lupita Nyong’o (12 Years a Slave) and Winston Duke (Black Panther) play the Wilsons, a couple with two children going on a trip to their beach house in Northern California. One night, four masked strangers stand in front of their home. The people closely resemble each of the Wilsons and begin a murderous rampage as they attempt to kill their doubles. These intruders are known as the Tethered and the Wilsons have to escape and find out who these strange people are and why there are being attacked. The film is the second title from comedian-turned-director Jordan Peele (Get Out) and another entry into his particular brand of horror.

Peele tones down the social commentary in Us. His previous topic of race relations is barely touched upon and instead he focuses on wealth inequality. The demented doppelgangers are the have-nots to the main family’s haves and the disparity between their upbringings is mentioned in a monologue, but it never becomes the central theme.

For most of its runtime, Us is a slasher film. The initial encounter with the shadows is a great moment of tension. Peele weaves his camera through the hallways as the family frantically closes open windows and the other family invades with an relentless dedication reminiscent of a Terminator. Peele is not able to sustain this level of tension throughout the film. After the villains have been introduced and have explained their backgrounds, they lose their mystery and with it their menace. They still pose a clear physical threat to the main cast, but no longer have the fear of the unknown to accentuate their actions.

Nyong’o and the kids deliver great performances in their dual roles.

Horror films are rarely known for their logic, but Peele still makes an unsuccessful attempt. During an initial confrontation, the Tethered explain who they are and why they are hunting down the main cast. This proves to be a fatal mistake as the explanation raises several questions that reveal plot holes. Typically, it’s best not to think too critically about the mechanics of a horror villain, as was the case with Get Out, but Peele forces these issues into the limelight. As is the case with most horror films, the Tethered’s origins may have been more effective if only suggested rather than explicitly told.

Without consistent tension or an interesting social angle, Us is a step-down from Get Out. Get Out also had issues maintaining tension, but the commentary on racial prejudices provided enough substance to compensate. Peele is still a talented filmmaker though. He elegantly foreshadows later plot elements, even providing an early hint at the Tethered’s origins for genre film fans, and gets great performances out of actors. Nyong’o and the children are standouts playing both their regular selves and the Tethered. Duke, as the goofy dad, isn’t at the same level but does provide a good source of humor. Peele has the rare talent of being able to weave humor into a horror film without feeling unnatural and it continues to be his greatest strength has a director. Us doesn’t have the tension or narrative foundation needed to thrill, but Peele’s talents provide do some bright spots.

3/5 stars.

Climax (2019): Don’t Drink the Sangria

Regardless of his filmmaking talents, Gaspar Noé (Irreversible) is first known for being a provocateur. His films have angered and reviled audiences around the world and led to walk outs due to the content onscreen. Climax, while by no means even remotely close to mainstream, may be his most agreeable title to date, if agreeable is even a term that can be applied to anything Noé has created. The film follows a Parisian dance troupe as they initially practice then unwind by throwing a party. The mood is jovial until things take a turn for the worse. People start feeling something strange and they soon realize that someone has spiked their sangria with a heavy dose of drugs and it sets off a night of drug-fueled chaos.

The best part of any Noé film isn’t the narrative or the characters, it’s the pure experience. At his best, Noé uses a blend of unnerving sound effects, hypnotic music, high-contrast lighting, and swirling cameras to create a cinematically-induced euphoria or, in some cases, total paralysis. It’s a pure, visceral response that few films can produce  and even fewer filmmakers can consistently create. There are a few moments in Climax that reach this level of reaction. An opening dance number features the cast rhythmically gyrating and contorting their bodies in ways that we know are choreographed but feel like instinctual movements borne from the thumping electronic music that overwhelms our ears. The effect is mesmerizing as it inundates the senses and transfixes your attention. Sadly, this is the only scene of the film that is able to produce this reaction.

The film’s highlight is its opening dance number.

The majority of the film focuses on the pandemonium created by the high dancers. The drugs produce different responses in each person. Some become overly emotional while others become wild or even violent. Very few of them make good decisions as it becomes clear that the film has morphed into a horror movie with the negative effects of the unknown substance as the primary threat. The characters’ behaviors can quickly become tiring. We haven’t developed affections towards them and have little investment in their well-being which makes their blatantly stupid decision-making  irritating, even if it is understandable given their physical state. Mimicking their world rapidly spiraling out of control, Noé and his regular cinematographer Benoît Debie (Spring Breakers) use a swirling camera that is as mobile as the dancers, weaving through their tangled bodies and effectively capturing their confusion. Yet, because of the poorly sketched characters and their self-destructive actions, the intended horror is kept arm’s length.

As usual, Noé is guilty of several indulgences. The film opens with seemingly never-ending interviews with each of the dancers asking why they want to join the troupe and the party pre-drugs features several scenes of dialogue as inane as the characters are inebriated. Noé lets these scenes stretch into minutes long takes of drunken friends talking about which of the other dancers they want to sleep with as they go into excessive, graphic detail for no purpose. Furthermore, there are plot points and character outcomes that are present for no reason other than shock value. These sections pad out the film’s short runtime and highlight how little material is actually present. Climax has moments of the Noé’s best talent of creating enveloping visceral responses, but the film’s drug-trip-as-horror premise fails to connect.

3/5 stars.

Bird Box (2018): Weak Knock-off

Bird Box is told in two timelines. The first follows Malorie (Sandra Bullock; Gravity) as she prepares two blindfolded children, named Boy and Girl, to travel to a community downriver. The second tells Malorie’s backstory and fills in why the world appears to be in a post-apocalyptic state. On the way home with her sister following a prenatal checkup, Malorie realizes that something is very wrong. People are suddenly acting suicidal and jumping off buildings or running into busy streets. As chaos ensues, she finds refuge in a stranger’s house along with other stranded individuals and discovers that some unknown, unearthly entities are creating the havoc by controlling anyone who makes visual contact with them. From that point on, Malorie and company cover all windows and only step outside with blindfolds to protect themselves from contracting whatever frenzy is tearing their world apart.

Within Malorie’s journey is a blunt subplot about her personal growth. Her pregnancy is unwanted and unplanned and she repeatedly states that she is not mother material and has no desire to be. The writers intend the pregnancy and eventual raising of the children to allow for her to realize her parental instincts and see herself as more than she had previously believed possible, but the acting and writing is so heavy-handed that she appears to only have two phases of growth, being completely against the idea of being a mother and wholly embracing motherhood, with neither being believable and without a smooth transition between the two states. Her treatment of the boy and girl seems less like someone unsure of their ability to raise children and more like someone just annoyed that they have an additional responsibility. When she does finally accept them, Bullock acts with unconvincing, forced emotions and delivers the most predictable, corny dialogue. Her growth into motherhood is a flawed, failed attempt at character development that doesn’t engender the desired sympathy.

Malorie’s interactions with the children never create believable bonds.

Bird Box is the amalgamation of A Quiet Place and The Happening that no one wanted. The conceit of needing to cover your eyes to avoid infection could have been an interesting premise but the film does little to exploit the potential. Furthermore, limited sight does not allow for the tense situations that avoiding sound does. There is minimal risk to accidentally alerting the creatures because a simple blindfold negates their power whereas in A Quiet Place even a small false move could create a noise loud enough to lead to death. This danger infused tension into every movement, but in Bird Box their situation is almost entirely within their own control and the creatures don’t directly harm the characters so the narrative doesn’t provide enough reason to be afraid of the unexplained beings. The main consequence, that characters enter a suicidal rage, isn’t as laughably bad as in The Happening but the visuals of people ending their own lives still fail to produce a lasting emotional response. Bird Box is an unnecessary, weak twist on existing horror ideas that doesn’t understand what made them successful or learn from their mistakes.

2/5 stars.

Piercing (2018): Rigorous Aesthetics without Psychological Depth

A married man with a loving wife and an adorable infant daughter has one tiny guilty pleasure: stabbing people. Coming from Nicolas Pesce (The Eyes of My Mother), the story centers on Reed (Christopher Abbott; It Comes at Night) as he plans and initiates the killing of a prostitute to satisfy his unnatural desire. The unsuspecting victim is Jackie (Mia Wasikowska; Stoker) who enters his hotel room expecting a night of S&M. The film is adapted from a novel by Ryu Murakami, author of the book that would become Takashi Miike’s Audition, so those familiar with his previous work have an idea of the kind of twisted events about to play out.

For fans of Pesce’s first film or of Murakami’s novel, the tone is going to be jarring. The source material was serious and psychological. It focused on the past of the main characters and provided deep insights into how childhood trauma and abuse can manifest in adulthood. The film is much more playful. It’s in the vein of movies like You’re Next that offer genre thrills but are self-aware of their own ridiculousness. Pesce takes Reed’s planning of the attack and turns into comedy by having him pantomime the act with a silly level of earnestness. But he doesn’t allow the humor to completely mask the actual violence. He includes unpleasant sound effects for each movement to remind us of the danger at hand. This is a movie that, while gruesome in several scenes, you are meant to have fun with and laugh at.

The clothing is another unplaceable aspect of the film’s style.

The film’s production design is stunning. Pesce has relocated Murakami’s story to the United States but sets it in an unknown location. He uses miniatures for the city landscape that communicate an fabricated world, one that, due to its stylization, is out of place and out of time. The technology shown indicates the story in set in the past, but the exact decade is deliberately obfuscated. Pesce uses a variety of stylistic choices to prevent the film from being grounded. The interiors have green shag carpeting and glistening wood-paneled walls that are from the 60s but the bright colors used call back to Italian giallo movies of the 70s and make the sets feel like dollhouses. The untraceable, artificial setting gives the film a strange, fable-like quality.

Pesce shows clear vision in his adaptation, but his choices often lessen the film’s impact. The film feels meticulous in its planning and execution and the subdued but unsettling acting fits perfectly with the intended tone, but the lack of psychological elements rob the story of its depth. Reed and Jackie’s histories are hinted at through well-executed but fleeting flashbacks yet this isn’t enough to add motive to their behavior. Instead, we are forced to react only to their actions onscreen, removed from the important context of their pasts that was previously present in the novel. The actions, particularly the violent ones, are well executed as Pesce knows how to make an audience squirm when he wants to, but without a grounding motivation. Piercing can be enjoyed for it rigorous details and Pesce’s laudable vison, but the lack of character development prevent the film from engaging on an emotional level.

3/5 stars.

Suspiria (2018): Promising but Flawed Remake

Remaking a cult classic is never an easy task, but having Luca Guadagnino (Call Me By Your Name) behind the camera made it an interesting proposition. Like the original, the film follows Suzy Bannion (Dakota Johnson; Fifty Shades of Grey), an American, who comes to Germany to enroll in a famous dance school. On the day of her arrival, she hears whispers of another student who abruptly left the school for unknown reasons, leaving room for Suzy to join. She auditions in front of the demanding teacher Madame Blanc (Tilda Swinton; We Need to Talk About Kevin) who, along with the rest of the staff, takes an immediate interest in her and assigns her the lead role in their next performance. As the film progresses, Suzy’s friend Sara (Mia Goth; A Cure for Wellness) learns that the missing student had suspected their teachers of being witches and using students for an unknown nefarious purpose.

While the original Suspiria was almost a giallo film, the Italian thriller subgenre popularized by director Dario Argento, Guadagnino has moved the title firmly into body horror territory. There are still elements of suspense surround the details of the missing student, but where the first film kept the nature of the school as its main source of intrigue, this iteration never lets the audience think the school is normal. Instead, the question becomes a matter of what Blanc and company are doing and why, not whether it is occult. In early scenes, Guadagnino establishes the teachers as witches through a display of horrific pain. He shows a body contorting against its will in a grisly fashion that would make David Cronenberg proud and continues these effects throughout the duration.

Guadagnino takes the film’s visuals in the opposite direction of the original. While it is beautifully shot with skillful use of shadow, it lacks the color of the original. Argento’s Suspiria was known for its vibrant, contrasting hues and patterned production design. Guadagnino instead creates the aesthetic of Cold War Germany. The buildings are oppressive with dull, muted colors that point to a city in disrepair. The effect of this aesthetic change is that it not only distinguishes the film, but also places greater emphasis on the actual dancing. The energetic dance moves come to the foreground when surrounded by drab settings. It’s a smart decision that gives the remake its own visual identity.

The main performance is a brilliantly lit and choreographed scene.

Until the end, Guadagnino’s Suspiria is a compelling watch. He makes decisions that separate his film in interesting ways and is able to communicate the hypnotic effect of dance that lures Suzy to the school. The film becomes a sensory experience led by Johnson’s striking dancing. Her movements resemble sudden convulsions more than graceful ballet and her twisting, in concert with the film’s lighting, show a temporary euphoria that extends to the audience. It’s unclear how much of the choreography was completed by Johnson rather than a dance double, but her performance and the editing make it impossible to tell as she throws herself into every motion.

It’s the film’s climax that becomes its undoing. Guadagnino and screenwriter David Kajganich (A Bigger Splash) deserve credit for taking the story in a new direction, but the blood-soaked finale will leave most viewers confused rather than awestruck. The ending relies on a plot point that, while not convoluted, unexpectedly changes the film’s focus to something that was barely mentioned earlier. This isn’t a shift that recontextualizes prior events in new and interesting ways, it baffles by implying that the filmmakers were actually focused on what seemed like an inconsequential detail. There are also other background elements that end up superfluous. The repeated nods to WWII and actions that may have been committed under Nazi rule are never developed or addressed by the film’s conclusion. What started as a fresh and enveloping take on a classic film, stumbles and falls in its final stretch leaving Guadagnino’s remake a flawed work that never reaches its potential, despite having many great moments.

3/5 stars.

Luz (Beyond Fest 2018): Auditory Possession

When a horror movie makes its opening credits scary, you know you’re in for a treat. Coming from a student’s thesis in Germany, the film follows Luz (Luana Velis), a cab driver who takes herself to a police station following a car accident. Luz is uncooperative during questioning and keeps repeating obscene distortions of traditional prayers. In an attempt to find out what happened during the accident and where her missing passenger might be, the police staff enlist a psychiatrist named Dr. Rossini (Jan Bluthardt) to put her in a trance and re-enact the events leading up to the crash.

But this isn’t a police procedural, this is a possession movie. Before the reenactment, the psychiatrist is drinking at a bar when a strange woman approaches him. She convinces him to go the bathroom with her and an “exchange” happens. Something passes from her to him and he conducts the hypnosis as if under some kind of mind control himself as the unknown force tries to get closer to Luz.

Velis’s acting compensates for the film’s limited settings.

Somehow, director Tilman Singer makes a woman sitting on a chair involving. It should be silly watching a adult pretend to drive a car in the middle of a police station, but Velis sells every second. She doesn’t overact, but rather delivers a performance indistinguishable from how she would have behaved in an actual cab. Singer also makes perfect use of filming conventions related to vehicles. He frames his images in the exact way car scenes are typically shot, subconsciously creating the feeling of Luz being in an actual cab. The limited, mundane location does still hurt the film, but the complete commitment combined with Singer’s staging make the entire inquiry equal parts mysterious and tense.

Visually, Singer pulls from films of the 70s and 80s. The film is shot on 16mm so there is significant grain to the images, but also the hazier look of lower budget films from the period. The film deliberately lacks definition making it feel less like a throwback and more like a restoration. Singer relies on this haziness to further enforce the mystery. Fog is often present, despite being indoors, and there is an unshakeable feeling that we don’t have a clear picture, both literally and figuratively, of everything at stake.

Luz will likely never get attention from the Academy, but it deserves recognition for its incredible sound design. This is a film that demands to be seen with the best audio system possible. Surround sound is a must. Singer crafts an uneasy soundscape with low rumbling and a score that varies from echoing clanks to electronica to piercing violins. He makes some daring moves during the hypnosis by holding on a completely black screen as Luz shuts her eyes and Dr. Rossini whispers to her. The sound mix has his voice traveling around the speakers, as if circling the audience, giving the full feeling of his frightening presence. As the film reaches its climactic moments, the abrasive, unnerving sounds never recede creating unease in the audience. It’s a satisfyingly oppressive effect that, along with Singers sharp direction, elevates Luz to a possession movie with anxiety-inducing mystery.

4/5 stars.