It's All Hereditary...
The dawning of a new era in horror has arrived, in all its dark and twisted glory (okay, it arrived over two years ago, but I got busy and never posted this). Sweeter than the smell of napalm in the morning is the alluring scent of psychological horror. It’s quickly becoming horror’s new trope, and for once I don’t mind one little bit.
In recent years, we’ve witnessed the birth of some seriously great horror, some of which I’ve covered in previous articles. Back when I wrote “Horror Just Got Teabagged,” I never could’ve imagined the genre would so quickly surpass some of the amazing milestones it had then reached: IT FOLLOWS, BABABOOK, THE AUTOPSY OF JANE DOE, THE WITCH, and GET OUT, just to name a few.
These films were markers, indicating a shift in the genre. A transition into a more grown-up world. No more pull-ups and thumb-sucking. As of a few years ago, horror was beginning to blossom into its pubescent stage; still a wee bit gawky, with room for growth, but she was coming into her own. Now, having filled out, the young mistress is beginning to flaunt her curves and shake what previous generations of horror gave her. Even though she’s young, she’s becoming better acquainted with herself and is on the trajectory to be one hell of a formidable dame, with gusto for days and a knack for unabashed honesty. The kind of transcendent dame that can slum with the rejects and hob-knob at the Oscars.
Maybe you’re reading this, thinking, “All this fuss over one little film?” Or maybe you’ve seen Ari Aster’s HEREDITARY and are nodding in agreement.
Yes, all this fuss over one little film, because sometimes that’s all it takes to turn a genre on its head and flip the script on every veteran and new-comer. Writer and director Ari Aster, with his directorial debut, raised the bar to stratospheric heights. I mean, what can’t be said about this stroke of genius? It’s great, it’s amazing, it’s superb, it’s shocking, it’s brilliant. It’s genre shattering. It’s all the above and so much more. It's…one of the greatest films (not just horror) of all time. I know what you’re thinking. No, my lips aren’t numb from all the ass-kissing. But I’ve got no shame. HEREDITARY’S shit doesn’t stink, so I’ll keep puckering till the cows come home.
Now that I’ve painted a vivid picture of the depths I’ll sink to for a great film, let me get to why I’m lavishing such praise on Aster’s work. I won’t bore you with a synopsis. If you want to know what the premise is, read the synopsis online, then watch the damn thing.
Psychological horror runs circles around slashers. Don’t get me wrong, I love slashers—I’ve seen every installment of all the big franchises. Freddy, Jason, Mikey, etc. You name it, I’ve probably seen it.
I’m a hardcore, real-deal, seriously loyal fan of horror and all its sub-genres, with the exception of torture porn—gratuitous gore and violence is cheap filler for unimaginative film makers. Otherwise, I watch it all, and while my heart will always belong to Michael Myers (despite the disappointment of the latest installment), I’m most inspired by psychological horror—the weighty stuff, the cerebral terror, the horror with its shit together and its nose a bit in the air…the slllooowww burn. After all, building suspense is where it’s at, and psychological horror done well offers up suspense in spades. The minute you see behind the curtain, the magic loses much of its luster. Sometimes it loses all of it, and what’s left behind is a half-priced suggestion of what the trailer promised.
Hereditary is psychological horror at its finest. If you’re looking for lots of blood, guts, and jump scares, bark up a different tree. This film’s grown-up, fleshed out, and is packed with enough muscle to come upside your head with half a brick and a razor blade, all without asking permission.
To begin with, it’s chock full of incredible actors. The young Milly Shapiro is a breath of fresh air and is talented far beyond her years. Mastering the intricacies of such a quiet, yet complex character is no small feat, especially for such a young actress in her debut role.
Gabriel Bryne was great, the poor bastard—and man, did I feel for him.
Alex Wolff was amazing. He tapped into a range of emotions some of the most seasoned actors can’t accurately portray, and he brought to his character a realism and passion that breaks your heart in two.
Of course there’s my homegirl, Ann Dowd, whom we’ve all come to love…with appropriately appointed apprehension. Word is she’s one of the kindest people in Hollywood, but as sweet as she reportedly is, her characters linger on your tongue like a bad burn. From HANDMAID’S TALE, to THE LEFTOVERS, to HEREDITARY, the woman’s a damn genius, and versatile to boot. Her ability to traverse demented characters while also being endearing is impressive. What makes her such a memorable and stellar villain is that we believe her characters could exist, and that’s more terrifying than anything that goes bump in the night. Zombies are scary and demons suck, but a woman who can reel you in with her humanity and empathy and then tear you to shreds with her brutality is truly chilling.
Now for the centerpiece of our cast, 2000 Academy Award winner Toni Collette. She’s on fire in this film. Crazy, stupid, ridiculously good. I’ve always been a fan, but this placed her among my favorite actors of all time.
The film required from Toni Collette an extraordinarily wide range of emotions, all of which she delivered with such genuine truth and transparency, it took my breath away. Literally. The scenes following her daughter's death, in which Toni's character is rightfully irreparably traumatized, is shake-every-mother-to-her-core POWERFUL! Films always get it wrong. Even in the most gut-wrenching of depictions, there’s something a little too together about every bereaved character who’s lost a child in a film. But not here. Toni Collette brought the hammer down, realistically depicting how shattered a mother would be in the wake of such loss, and these scenes gripped me. I was crying, shaking. I even checked on my sleeping children.
Films don’t scare me. I know, I know. I sound like a bit of a douche. A cookie too tough to crumble. But it’s true. There was once a time when movies scared me; the OMEN did me in as a child, as did Chucky and THE WOMAN IN WHITE. I think my first viewing of THE SHINING probably raised a few hairs. But in recently history, I can’t remember being scared. Thanks to Tal Zimerman’s new documentary, WHY HORROR?, we know there’s some evidence to suggest we, the most fiendish of fans, have watched enough horror to desensitize our amygdalae (the area of our brain responsible for feeling fear), which is kind of cool. We no longer have to blame our tough skin on psychosis, which, undoubtedly, was more fun, but science is kind of cool, too.
While horror doesn’t scare me, I’ll admit to feeling a palpable unease while watching HEREDITARY, if not a twinge of what might’ve been fear, had I not bathed my brain in horror for years. HEREDITARY offers some truly horrific subject matter, and several of its scenes are downright jarring, but its real terror is found in both the intensity and realism of the characters and the tragedy they’ve found themselves swallowed by. It’s visceral and real, and despite its supernatural/demonic elements, it hits too close to home for those of us who’ve rubbed shoulders with dysfunctional families. The film’s raw and bleeding and oozing all over your hands and clothes and shoes, and all you want is a chance to catch your breath. But, as we’ve established, the film knows how to deliver a punch without letting you up for air before it wallops you with a spleen shot. And just when the emotional tension has stripped you of all your defenses, the climactic scene brutalizes you with intensely smart shots in which hidden visuals aren’t spoon-fed to you, but patiently wait for an eerie, heart-thudding discovery. It’s brilliantly shot and terribly beautiful in its pursuit for true horror, all without feeling haughty. Toni Collette head-banging into the bottom of the attic door is the stuff of true nightmares. Seriously wicked stuff. That scene will stay with me FOR-EV-ER.
As for the conclusion, many viewers were unhappy with the ending. I have to admit to not adoring the conclusion, either. Not to suggest that I hated it. Years later, I’m still deciding how much I dislike it, because it leaves room for later consideration. But I, too, wasn’t in love with the very end. Having said that, the film was too amazing not to sit at the upper echelon of the genre. I can forgive the last five minutes, because when you’ve made a film this remarkable, it stands to reason that the end might fall a bit flat, regardless.
HEREDITARY broke a glass ceiling. Horror is more than a genre, it’s a label often frowned upon, because Horror knows how to have fun with itself. It knows how to laugh, how to scare, how to entertain, and it does it unapologetically. It can be campy and goofy, and there's often no shortage of bare breasted ladies in distress. But now, horror knows how to impress, propel, and raise the bar for ALL filmmakers—not just those working in horror. It's a heavyweight contender, and one hell of a formidable force when executed intelligently.
Thank you, Ari Aster, for adding a shiny, new belt to the genre. Your mind is a playground I look forward to spending some time in.
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