The Babadook

The Babadook has been making waves all over the place. So much so, that I feel the film has become a victim of over-hype. That's not to say The Babadook isn't any any good, but the glowing press creates expectations that can't ever be met. I even heard it said this was a top-notch possession film, which it isn't. A possession film, I mean. The Babadook is a psychological musing on grief.

Nearly seven years have passed since her husband's death, but time holds little meaning for Amelia. She lives day-to-day, nursing the raw, open wound left by Oskar's unexpected and violent passing. Her young son, Sam, reminds her too much of Oskar and Amelia has a difficult time loving her child. Into this unhappy home enters Mr. Babadook, a shadowy monster brought to life in a pop-up book. Sam insists the Babadook is real, which only angers Amelia, but even she can't explain or deny the strange voice she hears or the dread she feels at night.

The film is set mostly within the suffocating space of Amelia's house. As Sam is taken out of school, and Amelia looses her job, the movie turns inward cutting itself off from the rest of the world to focus on Sam and Amelia's growing psychosis. Journeys outside the home end badly for everyone and so the film takes on an enclosed feeling as Amelia becomes more withdrawn, shutting herself and her son inside their home.

The Babadook is a slow burn and, like Poltergeist, endings don't come easy. As a manifestation of her grief, the Babadook has power of Amelia, and she will be haunted by her husband's ghost until she can find it within herself to move on. More to the point, Amelia's tragic inability to let go is having a negative effect on Sam. If she can't get it together soon, she risks losing her son. But Amelia revels in her grief, identifies herself through her suffering, and letting go is scary for her. Scary like the Babadook.

The Babadook is more atmospheric than it is outright terrifying, although the film does reward the audience with a few glimpses of the monster. Most of the runtime is held over for exploring Amelia's and Sam's fractured psyches. Visual cues remind us of the ever-present threat of Mr. Babadook, while the look and feel of Amelia's home pays homage to the German Expressionism cinema of the early 20^th century. There's no intensified continuity here, no fast-paced editing or shakycam. The Babadook trades on stable camerawork, some clever effects, and a brooding pace that leaves time to think and worry about what will happen next.

The film's warm reception and glowing reviews earned it a special place on the Toronto After Dark programme: the closing gala. Having sold out in record time, the festival added a second late-night screening to accommodate disappointed horror fans. Most sold-out shows have one or two empty seats, but The Babadook played to a full house, which included the grandparents of Noah Wiseman, the boy who plays Sam. I hope they're proud of him.

The Babadook's praise is well-deserved but audience members should be cautioned against falling victim to the hype. I hesitate to suggest part of that hype has to do with The Babadook being helmed by a first-time female director, but the fact of the matter is there are few women out there making horror movies and so we tend to give special attention to those who are.

All caveats aside, Jennifer Kent has delivered a wonderfully crafted psychological horror movie full of atmosphere and suspense. If you're growing tired of jump scares and torture porn, have a look at The Babadook.

Horrible Art Made More Horrible

I'm no artiste, but I know what sucks. And thirft store art is pretty bad. Unless you happen to find a Jackson Pollock at the back of the pile. Then it's ugly art that's at least worth something. But enterprising artists like Chris McMahon and Thyrza Segal have found a way to jazz up boring oil landscapes and acrylic horses--by adding monsters!

Thyrza Segal

Chris McMahon

Thanks to Anonymous for first telling me about this. You can view the original blog post at Twisted Sifter.

Monsters

Movies generally aren't complicated.  A story is told, people watch, the end.  Movie advertising, one would assume, is even less complicated.  Ads are produced to get people excited, the end.

On the surface, Monsters isn't a complicated movie.  It's about a man who escorts a woman through dangerous territory.  They get to know each other over the few days it takes them to cross from one side of the danger zone to the other, and fall in love.  This blossoming love story is set against the backdrop of an alien infestation. Six years ago, a spaceship broke up over Mexico during its re-entry, infecting northern Mexico with alien life.  Now northern Mexcio is closed off and it's dangerous (and expensive) to pass through.  Due to some bad timing and an unfortunate series of events, Caulder is forced to escort Samantha through the infected zone.

Doesn't sound too bad, and Caulder and Samantha's love might be challenged and tested by the monstrous aliens all around them and the dangerous situation they're in.  It might be.  You expect that it would be because you know:

Except that it isn't. 

For all its posturing, Monsters is not a horror movie about two unlikely lovers fighting for survival in a hostile world.  Monsters is actually a movie about two unlikely lovers who encounter no obstacles on their way to recognizing and expressing their feelings for each other.

I said Monsters isn't complicated--it's a simple love story.  The film's marketing, however, is bewildering.  And frustrating.  That poster up there would have you believe Caulder and Samantha are constantly at risk of giant spider attack, poison gas attack, and possibly even an outbreak of Triffids.  Indeed, the aliens do make an appearance but their presence and behaviour only underscore the love story.  I don't mean to suggest that horror fans are incapable of appreciating love, but they're unlikely to enjoy or engage in the romantic notion of dangerous adventure when there is, in fact, little danger involved.

Monsters is one of the oldest tropes brought to life and then dressed up as a horror/sci-fi adventure.  The film is successful in telling its story, but at the expense of duping its audience.  This risky move--advertising one type of movie as another--almost always backfires.  The audience, expecting a horror movie with a love story subplot is presented with just the opposite, and duplicitous advertising will fuel the fire of viewers' disappointment. 

Word will spread like a bad rash: don't got see it, it's not what you think.

 Adapt to what?  In fact, it's like a dream come true for America because now there is a giant wall between it and Mexico.  Interpret that any way you like.