I got into this when I looked at Arctic a few years back, but now more than ever, it has been cool to see so many YouTubers making it in the film business. Joe Penna went from MysteryGuitarMan to delivering the kind of survival thrillers that even I can get into; Radio Silence, the guys who pioneered the ‘Choose Your Own Adventure’ format on YT, not only have been contributing to and are now producing the V/H/S anthology series, but now have the keys to one of the most beloved slasher franchises ever in the new Scream movies; and the Martial Club stunt team got to work on last year’s runaway success Everything Everywhere All At Once.
Before this blog even existed, I was one of many who thoughtthey could turn YouTube into their career (before realising that going into video-making with that mindset is, to put it simply, a terrible idea), and while I realised that it wasn’t the way for me, it’s still quite nice to see so many others turn that passion into something viable.
And this time around, we have a success story from my neck of the woods (kind of), with the Adelaide-based team of brothers Danny and Michael Philippou, AKA RackaRacka. It was quite surreal to see their production logo next to national grant Screen Australia and A2-bloody-4 in the opening credits, and that’s only the beginning of it where this film is concerned.
The Philippous got their start in the industry by doing work experience on the set of The Babadook, and man, they took some lessons from there because this is also incredibly creepy as a horror film… but not in the way that most other modern horror films are. From the icy and washed-out colour palette, to the incredibly satisfying sound design (everything down to the sound of matches being struck just sounds good, I don’t know how else to put it), to this being a horror flick involving teenagers that feels like the filmmakers have actually encountered teenagers before and understand them, this sticks out in the best way possible.
Same goes for its approach to scares, with a refreshing lack of jump scares (there’s maybe one or two in the entire film) and an emphasis on grounded yet suffocating atmosphere to bring the supernatural threat right into the ordinary world. The film opens with a glorious one-er of a guy making his way through a raucous house party to find his brother, and on top of being quite recognisable (for both good and highly depressing reasons), it also shows that the Philippous and DP Aaron McLisky know their shit, an impression that never lets up for the rest of the film.
As for the story, it’s like a cross between Flatliners and the 2013 remake of Evil Dead. It involves an embalmed and severed hand (a left one, because Latin pun) which, when grasped while someone says “Talk to me”, allows the user contact with ghosts. And, if they follow that with “I let you in”, even possession. Like Flatliners, it focuses on a small group of thrill-seekers who get a kick from reaching out to the Other Side, and like Evil Dead, that kick is treated as something quite addictive, giving a euphoric experience to those who do it… provided they follow the rules, of course.
While that easily could have just kept this story stuck in the mires of “Just Say No” allegory, which admittedly is part of the thematic texture here, the way it’s dealt with on-screen thankfully avoids the more blunt-force ‘stay away from the devil’s lettuce’ kind of moral panic. For one, as mentioned above, the teenagers here act and react like actual teenagers, not just the idealised form that regularly pops up in films, so their attraction and later repulsion to the practice rings true. It helps that Miranda Otto is basically perfect as the mother trying to find out if her kids are getting involved in something; both sides are shown naturally. For another, that allegory intermingles with other ideas to do with the literal aspect of the plot (shaking hands with the dead) and the way we deal with (or don’t deal with) grief to reinforce it into something more substantial.
And for a third… well, there’s really no other way to put it: This is what watching a horror movie feels like. I’ve talked before about my connection to films like Where The Dead Go To Die, which I rank as one of the more scarring experiences I’ve had with a piece of media, and yet I not only highly rate said film because of that experience, but have willing going back and revisited it just to get another hit of it. Reaching out and touching something dark, something morbid, something… wrong; there’s a certain thrill to it. And indeed, with the initial depictions of main character Mia (Sophie Wilde) talking to the hand… I mean, I honestly can’t say I wouldn’t try it out for myself, just once.
But that’s the rub, isn’t it? Wanting to get an experience like that, to clasp hands on something unspeakable, just for the perverse rush that comes with it, never really stops at just the one time. Either you keep going, keep itching for that next fix, or that first hit does something major to your equilibrium, keeping you stuck in that down-space. Within the context of movies, I’ve been met with bad trips before; just look at my journey with Lights Out. That film pulled me in for that taste of darkness, but then left me so shaken that I basically rejected going near it, or anything from the guy who made it, again. Hell, that’s basically the deal I make when I watch any movie: I could be in for another glorious hit, one that could take me beyond the reaches of this plane of existence… or I could end up taking in something that my brain, maybe even my soul, just rejects in a violent fashion.
This is all my interpretation of things though, as I tend to examine films within the context of films because I find that interesting. Either that, or I’m just using all this page space to feed my Naked Lunch style writing addiction. But even when taken at face value, to do with death and messing around with dark rituals as an addictive prospect, the film still hits with some serious oomph. It’s kind of interesting to read this as the antithesis of the usual “I don’t do drugs, I get high on life” pretence (basically getting high on death), between the connections made on-screen between drugs and ill health, the role that social media plays in sharing not just experiences with the hand but all manner of bad shit for the sake of spectacle (it’s like a small-scale version of Jordan Peele’s Nope in that regard), and just the aching tragedy of a girl willing to do anything just to see her dead mother again. Another instance where I find myself struggling to condemn someone else for making that choice, knowing I would struggle with it just as much. Same goes for the film’s understanding of suicide, which is introduced through a combination of an injured kangaroo found on the road… and Sia’s Chandelier. Bit of a toss-up on which one would instil more dread in me these days, frankly.
That’s where the real horror for this came from for me. For as impressive as the film craft is, and as intense the atmosphere is throughout, it only started getting really confronting when I left the cinema, had a good think about it, and tried to give an honest answer about what I would do in a similar situation. I have something of an addictive personality by nature, so whether I’m taking this film at face value as a ghost story by way of a Monkey’s Paw, as allegory for drug use, or as personal hyperfixation about the darker corners of cinema and media in general… yeah, I genuinely wonder if I could stop myself either.
I believe in the freedom to engage with that which creates a pleasurable response, so long as it doesn’t fuck with one’s ability to derive pleasure by other means or interfere with the pleasure of others. But I recognise that my willingness to seek new and fresh experiences combined with my insistence on finishing what I start (just look at how many bad films I’ve sat all the way through over the years) could easily turn sour. This is why I’ve been making more of an effort recently not to spiral down whenever I’m met with undesirable sensations, no matter where they originate from; I was blasting The Avalanches’ Since I Left You all the way home from the cinema, because that album is a solid hour of all of the best feelings. All good things in moderation.
Like Smile last year, it’s another hybrid of old-school horror tropes and framing, right down to the ‘play stupid games’ Bloody Mary-esque conceit of the hand itself, with modern sensibilities and ‘elevated horror’ (and I mean that in terms of function, not in the sense that this is inherently elevated from ‘other’ horror) techniques. Also like Smile, it works because it hit something deep inside of me and properly had me on edge as I thought back over it, to say nothing of the harrowing experience I had in the moment.
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