'Hereditary' review

Hereditary doesn't just want to scare you. It wants to scar you.

That one letter makes all the difference. See, scaring the audience would be too easy. Anyone with a knack for making people jump and a moderate sense of atmosphere can do that. But it takes real talent to create something as disturbing, nightmarish, and flat-out traumatic as Hereditary, a film that seems destined to go down as one of the scariest of the 21st century. All of this hype feels a bit like hyperbole from the outside looking in, which is usually par for the course for these Sundance movies. I liked The Witch, but was it really the scariest movie ever? I mean, come on. This time around, I think it's best for everyone to trust the early reactions. Hereditary is not for the faint of heart, and it is not for those who wish to come out unscathed. It wants to scar you. It wants to scar you more than anything else in the world. And it succeeds. It's a gripping, haunting, and paralyzing experience.


Ari Aster has never made a full-length feature film before. This is his first movie, and it may just be the most accomplished debut by a young director in years. Hereditary is precise and confident, the work of a man with a vision who knows exactly what to do at each moment. It's an ambitious and epic horror movie, running a somewhat daunting 126 minutes and never sacrificing its grounded narrative and characters for cheap thrills. But ultimately, all of these peculiar characteristics that make Hereditary such an unconventional and challenging film are what make it special; they're the reason it feels like such a unique and bone-chilling journey. Aster has made a dark generational saga that feeds on the demons of both reality and the otherworldly, examining four deeply messed up individuals and the terrifying connection that dooms them all. Hereditary is a masterwork of horror, and you'll be thinking about it long after the credits roll. Maybe that's a bad thing in this scenario.

Here's the difficult thing- to talk about Hereditary is to spoil it. I've seen some critics and horror fans complain that A24 spoiled too much in the marketing, and I can honestly say that I don't understand the complaint. I don't know what else they could have done, save for not showing any footage at all. Aster has made a film with a seemingly endless array of surprises, and the studio did a fairly solid job of keeping the plot under wraps, even while revealing some of the imagery. This is really just a difficult movie to talk about- even an elevator pitch feels near-impossible. Basically, here's the gist. Miniature home artist Annie Graham (Toni Collette) has just lost her mother, who passed away after a prolonged illness. Annie had a difficult relationship with her "private and secretive" mother, and she's struggling to know how to feel at this time. Thankfully, she has her family- loving husband Steven (Gabriel Byrne), stoner son Peter (Alex Wolff), and lonely daughter Charlie (Milly Shapiro).


But in the weeks after the funeral, strange things start happening in the Graham household. An unusual number of unknown guests show up for her mother's funeral, prompting suspicion from Annie. Peter and Steven seem fine, but Charlie is a bit of an odd character, and things intensify as she begins to hear voices, possibly interacting with a malevolent spirit. Aster reveals information deliberately and patiently in the early goings, rarely feeling the need to get to the point of it all. As we learn in the first act, Annie's past is also fraught with tragedy, a familial cycle of pain, misery, and mental strife. But could the current disturbances in Annie's life be related to her past? Or is this something different entirely? Things really kick into high gear after an unexpected tragedy, one that threatens to turn their secluded mountainous mansion into a true house of horrors. Communication with the spirit world, a friendly neighbor (Ann Dowd), an omnipresent symbol- could it all spell trouble for the Grahams?

There's been some spirited debate over whether Hereditary is a horror movie, which is obviously a silly argument. Of course it's a horror movie- cinema doesn't get much scarier than this. But a large part of the film's charm lies in Aster's approach, a decidedly horrific treatment that is still firmly rooted in a grounded, everyday quality. It's a testament to Aster's craft that the sense of emotional realism is nearly as unnerving as the film's big scares. Hereditary is raw and gut-wrenching and difficult to watch, in ways that have little to do with satanic rituals or Charlie's creepy clucking noise. When the audience is first informed of the nature of Annie's past, Toni Collette unleashes a fierce and powerful monologue, with Aster's camera slowly zooming in on her blank expression and amplifying her matter-of-fact delivery. Another scene finds the Graham family sitting down for an intense meal, which quickly devolves into a profane verbal sparring match between Annie and Alex Wolff's Peter.


Aster and cinematographer Pawel Pogorzelski clearly enjoy torturing the audience with these scenes as much as they enjoy the bombastic terrors of the finale, lighting and framing these family conflicts to maximize the harshness and uncomfortable nature of the proceedings. The best horror typically relies on the sense that whatever is happening in the movie could happen to you, even if it's outlandish and ridiculous and probably unrealistic. Hereditary's classification as a painful family drama, set in the world of modern suburban America, makes it all the more effective as a horror movie. Just because Aster takes the material seriously doesn't diminish its placement within the horror genre- in fact, its relentless dramatic grimness makes it even scarier when things really hit the fan. Some moments are profoundly disturbing, so unbelievably tense and nerve-wracking that it can feel like you're frozen in time. And this all happens before the film reveals its true secrets, unleashing some harrowing imagery that will be etched into my brain forever.

The family drama aspects also mean that Hereditary is a movie about how families can self-destruct, and more specifically, about the negative generational ripple effects that we might not even fully understand. There's a rather evocative image that caught my eye during the middle section of the film, one that features a miniature house stacked on top of another house, which is stacked on top of another house, and so on. The idea that we're forever influenced by those who came before us is a scary one, and Aster clearly loves to explore what that could possibly mean. There's almost always a sense of security in family, even in the world of horror (think the close-knit clans of the Conjuring movies). But in Hereditary's world, family is cruel and unforgiving, full of secrets that you'll wish you never heard. Of course, the traumas and hardships of the Graham family are exaggerated by their....unsavory connections. Yet there's something about this approach to family that is so vicious and grisly, a tangled web of betrayals and bad decisions that will haunt you forever.


Beyond that, Aster seems to be scared by what is hidden in plain sight, the little things that we've excused and accepted without really questioning why. That's a motif that I didn't even catch the first time, mostly because, well, I couldn't see what was right in front of me. If Hereditary's themes of grief and family and self-destruction feel slightly enigmatic, it's often due to Aster's emphasis on the mystery at hand. On a first viewing, it's delightfully spooky to watch the film slowly reveal its cards, pulling back the curtain at a torturous, almost unbearably precise rate. Aster puts all of the pieces on the table in the first act, then puts the puzzle together as the film reaches its climax. Much of it is incredibly shocking, to the point that it felt like I couldn't move a muscle. As the story unfolded, every twist and turn made my heart pound a little bit faster, sinking deep into the darkest corners of my imagination and settling there.

But on a second viewing, with the knowledge of where this story is going, it's perhaps even scarier to watch. Each line of dialogue, each minor plot development, every look and glance made by the characters- it's all building to what goes down in the finale. And it's just flat-out terrifying. Aster's direction is never showy or gimmicky. His writing never goes for cheap tricks or easy twists. Everything he does is in service of an elaborate structure that culminates in something that is beyond frightening. His bluntness with the camera is effective, his ability to know when to go for a wide shot and when to zoom in on a character's face is impeccable, and his knack for perfectly placed shocks is jaw-dropping. Aster directs the hell out of this movie, literally and figuratively. Hereditary is old-school horror that feels Shining-esque in its ghastly brilliance, the kind of film that will give you nightmares for days.


Aster also clearly has an ability with actors, as he coaxes five astounding performances out of his main ensemble. Some serve a specific purpose in the balance of the endeavor, while others deliver something much more complex. Young Milly Shapiro is a thoroughly creepy screen presence, somehow making Charlie feel both unnerving and sympathetic. Gabriel Byrne is perhaps the opposite as Steven, who is seemingly the only normal character in the entire film. Byrne's gentleness and understanding adds another layer to a story that is fraught with agony, further balancing this sinister experience with a much-needed dose of normalcy and kindness. And then there's Ann Dowd, whose performance takes on a whole new meaning when you watch it again. Dowd's Joan is such an alarmingly kind individual, but she also conveys so much with just the briefest of looks. If you watch her carefully, Dowd does some masterful work.

But of course, the standouts are Toni Collette and Alex Wolff, two actors bound to be in the Oscar conversation should this film catch on. Wolff does marvelous work with a character in desperate need of emotional assistance, struggling to free himself from a megaton bomb of anguish and pain. It's fascinating to watch Wolff process these silent wounds, and it's clear that Aster thinks so too. He finds his most intriguing subject in Wolff's face, often linking the audience to the young teen's perspective through shots that are either unfathomably tragic or quietly empathetic. But there's no denying that Collette is the film's anchor, the unpredictable emotional core who could erupt or retreat at any moment. Aster's material is rich and complex, and Collette digs in without hesitation. You never really know where Annie's emotions and loyalties lie, and that ambiguity is so unbelievably crucial to this experience.

As I noted before, Hereditary is full of spoilers, some taking place as early as the first act. I've tried to keep this review as vague as possible, mainly because I believe that this is how the film should be seen. While I'd like to dig into the full ramifications and implications of this deeply effective cinematic nightmare, I shall say no more for the purpose of preserving the experience. Hereditary will leave a mark on you, as it probably should. It's a true achievement in horror craftsmanship, the likes of which I haven't seen in years. Most of all, it's a calculated, complex, and unhurried horror film, one that explodes into something staggering and hellish. Its psychological and physical impact is undeniable.

THE FINAL GRADE:  A                                              (9.6/10)


Images courtesy of A24

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