Bring Her Back

Few modern mainstream horror flicks are truly scary. Looking through the year's new releases, most aren't even interested in that side of the genre. Instead, they lean heavily into comedy (e.g. The Monkey, Hell of a Summer) and/or extreme gore (Final Destination Bloodlines, Sinners). That's not to denigrate such an approach, or to claim they don't fit under the horror umbrella. What's scary can be quite subjective, and a slight miscalculation or mismanagement of the plot can break the spell (see Rosario). So most opt for the existential or the somewhat creepy, which doesn't quite scratch the same itch. Those that go for scares tend to rely on well-worn tropes, which can be quite effective, or can fall flat on their face as they trade the unknown for the telegraphed.

Quality scary horror is hard to come by. And yet, the Philippou brothers are two for two.

Bring Her Back has a lot in common with Talk To Me. It centers on a few Australia teens dealing with the death of a parent. Communication with the dead plays a large and important role. Rituals and ceremonies are central, with few details explicitly given ahead of time to clarify what's going on. The consequences when things go wrong are brutal and uncomfortable and heartbreaking all at once, in an unflinching way that few films released into American cinemas have the courage to be. That said, the differences are almost more notable: the incorporation of low-fi VHS footage, the sharper and more visceral storytelling, and so many questions left unanswered. Even the flaws they carried over don't prevent it from landing as one of the best films of the year so far.

Much to the chagrin of the rising vocal minority online, Bring Her Back is another horror movie about grief (with a title like that, of course it is). Grief is such a deep and complex emotional state, associated with extreme behaviors which aren't often easily understood by other people, forcing us to confront the unknown and unknowable, so it's only natural to explore in a horror setting. As everyone will go through it at least a few times in their lives, it's almost automatic to empathize with those who are suffering its ill effects. Stories in which those left behind become destructive are thus a challenge to our capacity to connect with our fellow human beings, asking just how far are we willing to extend them grace, while also confronting us with the question of how far would we let their madness go?

There is no question of the tone from the very first shot. As in their previous film, we see some horrifying imagery before the title drop, a tape of people being brutally tortured, the lack of context for who was filming then or watching now making it even more disturbing. That context will come, but the Philippous have no interest in exposition dumps, so it'll have to wait. First, we must get to know the close playfulness of the bond between Piper (Sora Wong, in her acting debut) and her older step-brother Andy (Billy Barratt), and witness the tragic discovery of their father's sudden death from falling in the shower. We must meet foster mother Laura (Sally Hawkins), who takes the children in, and whose own daughter Cathy (Mischa Heywood) recently died by drowning in the family pool. We must meet Ollie (Jonah Wren Phillips), another child being fostered by Laura, whose family died in - wait, what's that mark underneath his eye, and why does it match the victims from that opening video?

The decision to cast Sally Hawkins was a master stroke. Her naturally friendly, bubbly demeanor feels so starkly at odds with the movie's vibes that you instantly know something is wrong. The way she immediately latches on to Piper, starts trying to drive a wedge between the siblings, then starts comparing Piper to Cathy throws up red flags before we ever witness her bizarre treatment of Ollie as a traumatized dog. Hawkins gives the distinct impression of a woman putting on a performance, harboring a closely guarded secret which continually threatens to escape, desperately trying to hold it together. She walks the line so well that we don't question her ability to successfully gaslight Andy, using his past to make him doubt himself, and exploiting secrets he's kept from his sister to open a gulf between them. She plays small and meek so well, using her size to her advantage, but manages to make herself huge when she needs to appear more dangerous, despite Andy towering over her.

Her outward nature concealing internal ugliness wonderfully mirrors the other main concern of the film, how protecting your loved ones from upsetting realities just leads to further damage down the line. Piper and Andy have a code word, "Grapefruit", which roughly translates to "Cut the shit, and give it to me straight, I promise I can take it". They tend to use it when they can tell the other is hiding something. As you'd expect, more often than not, it's Andy hiding stuff from his little sister. Piper occasionally uses it to ask about people's facial expressions or appearance, as she was born with coloboma and microphthalmia (just like Wong herself), conditions which combine to make her functionally blind, only perceiving hazy shapes and colors. It's through this mechanism we see signs of conflict to come: Laura's description of Ollie as having curly red hair is corroborated by Andy, which confuses Piper since she doesn't perceive any color, and the audience can see is on account of his shaved head. Laura lied, Andy protected Piper from that knowledge, and it indirectly allows everything else to happen.

And what happens is undeniably horrific. The Philippous will never be accused of pulling their punches, not in their debut, and not here. The major difference is their sophomore feature insists on weaving drama around physical trauma, making you feel it even more deeply. The damage caused by the desire to protect is on display throughout, growing ever worse as the grip of the protectors tightens. Instead of a few intense set pieces, the brutality punctuates smaller moments, shifting the scene and making the coming danger clear as day, while slowly revealing to us what's going on. It all comes to a head in a third act that is unrelenting until its resolution. It will keep you on tenterhooks the whole time, straining to peer around corners and into the dark in an effort to head off the coming unpleasantness. I could feel the audience wince at quite a few moments, reacting to the brutality on display. It crafts a mortifying representation of the depths of obsession and the selfishness inherent in life-hacking grief at the expense of others to avoid the work it takes to confront it, while not claiming that doing so is easy, nor that it will result in everything being okay.

As is all too often the case, its biggest weakness is its ending. No spoilers of course, but suffice it to say that once the finale subsides, the movie drags out. It's all falling action, providing an epilogue of sorts that neatly wraps up the situation of a handful of characters. I don't mind the direction they took it in, but stretching it out away from the climax diluted its otherwise poignant emotional gut punch. I actually had the same complaint about Talk to Me, right up until its final shot opened the flood gates to discussion and interpretation. But we've no such luck here; the strength of its story does not lead to a similarly impactful ending.

While the story fizzling out absolutely holds it back, it's been doing so much right throughout that you cannot say it's ruined. From the acting to the fantastic camerawork to wonderful score, its technical prowess is impressive. To say nothing of how much it trusts its audience, dropping a ton of subtle details which flesh out what's going on and the rules of its supernatural presence without ever calling attention to them. While Talk to Me was a phenomenon, there was no guarantee they could repeat that success. It remains to be seen if audiences will eat it up like they did the earlier film, but from an artistic perspective, the brothers have demonstrated they're for real.