Do You Even Lake Mungo?
No, it’s not a dance. Nor is it a bitchin’ psychedelic. And it’s certainly not the latest sex craze. It’s…just a horror movie. But make no mistake, there’s nothing just about it. While it might not be what the kids call extra, it’s simplicity at its eeriest, done exceedingly well. And it’s just one of the most chilling horror films ever made. Those, fellow weirdos, are not words I throw around lightly.
Lake Mungo is a 2008 documentary-style psychological horror film made in Australia, written and directed by Joel Anderson. This is his one and only feature length film, with a couple odd additions found on IMDB. Want to see a photo of the guy? So would I. But none can be verified. Want an interview with him? Sorry. No video interviews to be found— reportedly, that's exactly how Joel Anderson wanted it. There are just a couple/few written interviews from years ago. Want additional information about the mysterious filmmaker? No can do. In one of the aforementioned interviews, he wrote: “We were thinking it’d be nice if we could make a film that was kind of a curiosity, but if you saw it years from now you wouldn’t know anything about where it came from.” An interesting quote indeed, considering that’s nearly what came to fruition. Be it intentional or not, the anonymity surrounding writer/director/producer Joel Anderson adds weight to the film’s already enigmatic genesis.
As for the film itself, it’d be easy to say it’s just about grief. A young girl mysteriously dies (no worries—that’s not a spoiler), leaving her family to traverse a home where peculiarities now reside and questions are left unanswered. Of course the film’s about grief. After all, you can’t have loss without a grieving, upended family. As stated, it’s a simple concept as old as time, that begs the proverbial question: What’s left in the wake of death? Nothing extra about that. Or is there? You just have to look at the film’s execution.
Like some of the other films I’ve reviewed, Lake Mungo shouldn’t be picked apart too much. It goes without saying that no one wants a film’s climactic scene ruined, but in this case it’s best to preserve the integrity of the entire film. I’m sure someone out there has done some poking and prodding, dissecting it scene-by-scene. We mere humans aren’t adept at preserving things of beauty for those who come after. But in Lake Mungo’s case, I’ll do my best to uphold the film’s mystery, while also convincing you to give this relatively unknown nugget of absolute gold a watch.
Lake Mungo’s plot is solid. Sure, it’s been done before, but rest assured, the film offers a unique take on a well-loved idea. This is actually where the film does some of its best work. Obviously, I won’t divulge this turn of events, but suffice it to say the revelation adds legitimacy to what was already a great horror film. But where Lake Mungo earns its bread and butter is in its pursuit for sincerity.
Of all the documentary style films I’ve ever seen, this is the most sincerely executed and realistically shot, in a gritty, authentic manner that adds both texture and tension. It was reported that Joel Anderson didn’t write much of a script for his cast. They were left to improvise much of the dialogue, which some of them were allegedly uncomfortable with. Despite their discomfort, the finished product absolutely delivers on all fronts. Most Americans won’t recognize the small but incredibly talented cast, which, when combined with improvisation, adds truth to each character’s journey. These actors and actresses sold their roles with such believability, I had to remind myself it was a work of fiction.
I feel like a broken record, but it bears repeating. A small budget can lead to disaster, but in skilled hands it makes for brilliance. In Lake Mungo’s case, the small budget meant no relying on grandiose practical effects or CG—if this film was going to shine, it would have to bring talent and ingenuity to the table, which it did, in spades. The film is subtle and understated but somehow weaves a powerful sense of disquiet throughout. And because of its small budget, its larger moments required thought and precision, which Anderson mastered, all without the aid of gratuitous jump scares or gore of any kind.
At its heart, Lake Mungo is an incredibly realistic, eerily sincere portrayal of one family’s loss and their pursuit for answers. It excelled beautifully in all aspects and rightfully earned its spot as one of the scariest movies made. While I’m not at all easily frightened, this one gave me pause. If I were to dissect it, I could give you reasons for, and examples of, Lake Mungo’s fear-inducing characteristics. The hows and the whys. An effectively shot scene that raises the hairs, or an idea that’s unceasingly unnerving. But there’s a feel to Lake Mungo—a relentless uneasiness that emits from its very personality—that makes for such a chilling experience. Maybe it simply boils down to the film’s believability. That’s altogether likely. But I’ll leave room for the distinct possibility that its origin is as elusive as the filmmaker himself.
Lake Mungo truly deserves to be experienced, quietly, and in surroundings that respect its ability to induce fear. No distracting children, no yapping dogs. Just sit in a dark room with it for 88 minutes and see what you walk away with. Out of the myriad films I’ve discussed with like-minded horror lovers, this is one that scared the most people, particularly men. Not sure what the reason for this is, but I find it compelling.
There you have it, horror geeks. Lake Mungo—it’s one hell of a movie, with more staying power than you might like. If you’ve got enough hair on your chest and don't mind sleepless nights and bloated energy bills, dive in...and then keeps the lights on. This one likes to revisit you well after the film ends.
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