Heredity lays claim to a classic horror film heritage
A popular way to market new prestige horror films is to call them “the scariest film since The Exorcist.” I use the term “prestige horror” in the same way television writers use the term “prestige television” to describe dramas on HBO and AMC like Westworld and The Terror.
Both are filled with talented, capable actors. Both have visionaries dedicated to the craft of filmmaking, in both narrative structure and cinematography. Both are generally well regarded by critics, who write think pieces about what they say about society.
For whatever reason, The Exorcist has become the measuring stick all good horror films are set against. It’s a great film, to be sure. It terrified me to no end, largely due to a pervasive religious upbringing that instilled an unconscious fear of the occult and the devil.
But when I convinced my step-daughter, who has none of those trappings, to watch it at 15, she described it as “kind of weird.” And so maybe we should judge a film by its own merits.
Hereditary is an excellent horror film. I didn’t find it scarier than The Exorcist, but then those spiritual fears don’t hold as much sway over me as they once did. In fact, the film could have left the supernatural aspects out of the story entirely and it wouldn’t have been any less unsettling.
Like most horror movies, Hereditary is a film about family. For many, family is a haven of safety, a place to turn when there is nowhere else to go, a place of love and protection and security. This is a myth, of course. Even in the most stable families, insidious things can linger.
Horror films are constantly forcing audiences to look the darkest part of humanity. Nothing is darker than the danger that might lurk in the hearts of those we love the most. Annie’s (Toni Collette) family has never been happy. As Tolstoy tells us, all unhappy families are unhappy in their own way.
Annie’s family has been controlled by a manipulative and secretive mother, whose behavior is rooted in apparent mental illness. Her mother has died at the beginning of the film and Annie seeks closure after a lifetime of abuse.
She visits a group therapy session on grief, where she slowly allows us into to her history. The camera closes in on Annie, bringing us into her pain, forcing us to empathize with her past.
We learn about the various bouts of madness that haunt her family tree, about how she shielded her son from her mother but gave her daughter over to her out of guilt. Annie takes responsibility for things that are not her fault but never addresses the things that are. So do we all. However, an unspeakable tragedy occurs soon after this meeting and everything begins to fall apart.
If there is a reason to see this film in the theater, it rests with the brilliance of the sound design. As beautiful and stark as the cinematography for Hereditary is, the sound creates a disquieting atmosphere that exists in every corner of the theater.
Knocks and creaks and clicks bounce around the room, pulling the audience into the story is a way that isn’t found in most horror films.
There’s nothing like staring at the dark corner of a room with a character only to hear a familiar noise over your right shoulder, causing the character on screen to look behind you. Hereditary blurs the line between the real and unreal. Even with a top of the line home surround sound system, something would be lost viewing the film from your couch.
Of course, Toni Collette is a treasure in her role. She unravels so beautifully. In the hands of a lesser actor, her character might come across as histrionic and laughable. Collette, however, is a master of her craft. She should be nominated for any of the awards Hollywood has to offer.
She won’t be, of course. The Academy has backed away from rewarding films like these in favor of “meaningful” dramas about social issues.
While those films tend to be wonderful in their own right, Hereditary deserves recognition for the achievement it is. It’s a summer movie like no other.