Ladies,
Demons, and Blindfolds
by
Kristin Battestella
This
trio of recent chillers features outdoor scares and forest frights as
well as bedroom turmoil and sight unseen terrors for these tough
damsels in demonic distress. Whew!
Bird Box – Foreboding
radio reports, risky rapids, blindfolds, and children not allowed to
talk belie the lovely rivers and still forests of this 2018 Netflix
thriller directed by Susanne
Bier (The Night Manager)
starring Sandra Bullock (Practical Magic),
Sarah Paulson (American
Horror Story),
Trevante Rhodes (Moonlight),
John Malkovich (Shadow of the Vampire),
and B.D. Wong (Awake).
Nothingness
point of views from behind the blindfold accent the backpacks, lead
lines, titular pets, riverside boats, and rowing toward the dangers
unknown. If you look you will die, and mom means business as fog and
water perils add to the lack of sight unease. Five years before, our
mom-to-be is arguing with her sister and painting art full of
disconnected, lonely people. These women have realistic conversations
with layered dialogue and familial quips, but the relatable doubts
about motherhood and everyday big decisions degrade into mass crowds,
suicide reports, sudden hysteria, and panic as something seen by some
but not others results in slow motion car accidents, road rage, and
shocking deaths. Unlikely strangers fearing demons or religious
judgment and arming themselves are thrust together amid busy signals,
screaming cell phone calls, no media, and no military help. Is this
some new biological warfare making people see something that kills
themselves? Birds sense the danger and faint growling, but cameras
are to no avail and our family on the river will only remove their
blindfolds when huddled under blankets as the story goes back and
forth between their journey with static on the radio and our
previously housebound survivors concerned with rationing and the
pregnant women among them. It's tough to think about baby names when
electricity, supplies, and shotgun shells won't last. No one was
prepared for the apocalypse to happen that day. Do they let others
inside their abode or listen to voices on the riverbank saying it is
okay to take off the blindfolds? Desperate runs to the nearby
supermarket for essentials such as canned goods, toilet paper,
diapers, booze, and electronics use GSP only with windows blacked
out, tape over the cameras, and proximity sensors to warn when
something comes near. The slow burn suspense allows time for these
disparate strangers to forge late friendships amid fears they are all
going to die and debates about living versus surviving in these
topsy-turvy circumstances. Some briefly consider staying in the
supermarket – leaving others behind while they maintain all they
need despite the escalating violence outside. Whiskey talking admits
how bleak the situation is while others hope things may get better.
However, five years later our mother is still rowing toward the
unknown possibility of safety as the family dangers on the boat
increase. Of course, a few people do some foolish things, and there
may have been other options than taking the most dangerous course of
action. The supposedly helpful birds are useful or forgotten as
needed alongside somewhat obvious metaphors about the people being
who's actually box-bound and resorting to new, heightened senses.
Understandably, the tension escalates when outside influences are let
in – one by one people are lost as suspicious newcomers knock and
hopeful possibilities end with appropriately blunt gunfire and
shootouts. Training to survive without sight becomes paramount while
terror in the home, outdoor separations, and family sacrifices test
the temptation to look. Thanks to the courage and horror drama here
with frights real and fantastic, there's no need for any spoon fed
twist, toppers, scary movie cliches, or bombastic in your face. The
multi-layered studies and suspense are well-interwoven, progressing
naturally as the isolated settings allow the performances and
storytelling to carry the must see intensity.
Pyewacket
– Daughter Nicole Munoz (Defiance) invokes the eponymous
evil to kill mom Laurie Holden (The Walking Dead) in this 2017
Canadian parable featuring creaking forests, goth rebels, and can't
take it back terrors. Our widowed mother is doing her best to keep it
together and wants a fresh start, but moving is the worst thing for a
teen with awkward crushes and an inseparable BFF. Relatable
conversations on support versus instability, transferring schools,
driving, and bad influences endear both ladies to the audience –
even her friends insist parents are just as screwed up as teenagers
are. Likewise the music is in the background rather than overwhelming
viewers, a realistic rather than Hollywood choice as the camera
follows this goth gang through the school hallways. We're the fifth
member of the group and caught in the middle from the backseat as the
vengeful spell casting looms. Pizza, a relatively small cabin, mom
needing a weekend job, and say hey, a Latina lead, yes please –
it's as if writer and director Adam MacDonald (Backcountry)
had a list of horror cliches and insists on how not to
incorporate them. Although it's not expressly said to be Halloween,
fallen leaves, pumpkins, cawing crows, and owl motifs accent the
occult primer, sage, chants, binding rituals, and blood bowls.
Despite the careful preparation and craft materials, there's an
underlying sense of a not listening teen doing something she
shouldn't – especially when mom apologizes and the gals bond over
memories of the deceased. Her friends think this is all just acting
out for attention, but soon enough indeed our daughter regrets the
ritual. Unfortunately, a locked door can't keep out Pyewacket.
Ominous knocks and creepy attic access escalate to vehicular frights,
and innocuous shots – shadows about the house, rustling in the
woods – become suspect while we wait for the subtly disturbing
entity. Overhead slow spins and gradual zooms build unease as friends
disappear before the camera shakes with unreliable delirium thanks to
unfinished rituals, unexplained appearances, and darkness. Is this
evil trickery mounting or is a scared teen roaming in the
disorienting woods? Are forgiveness and reverse spells enough to put
everything right when this festering horror was summoned in spite of
be careful what you wish for warnings? Visions of the dead, distorted
vocal inflections, rattling doorknobs, and pleas to be let in provide
terror as this freaky manifestation is revealed. Some may not like
the quick finale, but knives, gasoline, fiery mistakes, and a bitter
comeuppance create a creepy atmosphere that does what it is says on
the tin. Those skinny pants, however, are not going to look good in a
few years.
For
a Drinking Game Maybe?
Mara
– Sleep paralysis statistics and fears of demonic possession open
this 2018 thriller starring Olga Kurylenko (Centurion) amid
children's bedroom terrors and behind closed door screams. Ticking
clocks and blue lighting set off the creepy drawings, mental
evaluations, and witnesses recounting their sleep demon experience –
weighed down on the mattress and unable to breath. Unfortunately,
there are too many of those Horror Movie Cliches I'm Tired of Seeing
contrivances interfering with what should be an interesting story.
Character sympathies and our strong woman psychologist in a tough
policeman's world jar against the forced scary elements, making the
titular ominous as laughable as the overly dramatic slow motion,
arias, and ripped teddy bear on the floor. At times this wants to be
a standard procedural using jump drives, CCTV, crime scene notes, and
tablet technology, but then our gal goes off to a mysterious address
without notifying police and listens to sleep deprived crackpot
theories to learn about the sleep demon rather than just, you know,
Googling it. The detective is right to remind her she's out of
bounds, for this psychologist is easily bothered by what seems like a
routine case. After hearing sufferers admit this sleep demon sounds
like crazy talk, we're not surprised when the trapped sleep and
stilted breathing happens to her – there's never any doubt this is
a monster not delusion or delirium thanks to early reveals and
unnecessarily spooky compromising any innate suspense. From a
divorcing couple and their child to prayer freaks, disturbed
veterans, and our psychologist with a crazy mom past, everyone who
sees Mara has other issues yet nobody wonders what's really causing
their sleepless nights. Hypnotic ceiling fans, fiery deaths, and
gasping paralysis build scares, but bemusing bloodshot eye markings
and demon mythology deflate the terror. Mara doesn't kill you right
away, but comes in four assault stages that can't happen if you only
sleep in twenty minute shifts. Predictable encounters and dream jump
shocks tread tires while our agitated sleepless victims are more
annoying than believable. With today's technology no one sets up a
camera for proof? The notion to involve more science and sleep
monitoring comes too late, and the doctors blame The X-Files and
pop culture for scaring people anyway. Weak paranoia and guilt
metaphors provide no payoff to the psychologist's suicidal
schizophrenic mother backstory, but Olga's look becomes increasingly
frazzled – physically changing her appearance rather than
addressing her turmoil. Car accidents and fighting to stay awake
chases in the finale could have been the entire strung out focus, but
time is wasted on the demon doing both in your face screams and
taking its sweet, creaking time to inch toward the victim. When we
finally get to the desperate cutting off of the eye lids, it's just
gore and a thin idea run out of steam. Although this could have been
much better and seems content to be repetitive and Elm Street derivative, it can be a mildly entertaining late night watch or
bemusing drinking game if you aren't looking for something really
scary or expect any real sense of dread.
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