You know, I think I've put my finger even harder on the true reason that modern horror films have been so stodgy. Now, for the record, I do feel that horror films have seen a minor shift of improvement, particularly with films such as Don't Breathe and Get Out. However, the positive reception of these films, in retrospect, seems less like mere surprise for such solid pieces of filmmaking and more like a desperately relieved expression of gratitude. It's as if one were trapped on a desert island for weeks and starving, then some random deus-ex-machina arrived with three years worth of Thanksgiving dinners, complete with apple pies.
However, to me, there is one element crucial to a strong, effective, palpable horror film: surprise. Now, this sounds relatively basic, but think about it. The feeling of horror stems from uncertainty, the unknown. Yes, shock can play into a horror film's appeal and strengths and it often does, but what filmmakers forget is that the shock is the aftermath, never the forethought. When a victim is about to be killed in a slasher film, the horror lies not particularly in the killing, but the lack of knowing beforehand as to whether they will be OK or not. The best supernatural horror films worked because (a) the uncertainty of the supernatural force or its source and (b) whether or not anyone will survive. Hell, even jump scares, at their core, can be scary because they deceived you into a false sense of comfort. You surrendered your conflicting thoughts of uncertainty and built a trust in the moment, only to have it be bludgeoned directly after.
The problem is that Hollywood typically thinks, plans, and executes according to trends. So, once a trend is spotted, there goes the surprise. So long were the days of shocking slasher films, because once it was all about being shocking, there went the initial, identifiable appeal that made them stand out. Gone were the days of scary supernatural horror films of the unknown because...shit, it wasn't unknown anymore! Everything was telegraphed and as easily marketable as possible.
And with A Quiet Place, it does seem to have an aura in the advertisements as a more marketable version of Don't Breathe. This could, possibly, be in part due to it being centered around a family, having slightly more prominent actors, and it seems to use word-of-mouth more to its cunning avail. So, seeing how it comes across as a more marketable version of one of the most unique, tense horror films of this decade, surely there's nothing more that could be added to a film with a similar premise, right?
Well...all I'll say is that A Quiet Place is actually quite an uncomfortable place, in ways better than its competition.
The films begins in a quasi-I Am Legend fashion. The year is 2020 and many places have been virtually evacuated. Stores are derelict and practically overturned and there's an unsettling serenity that lingers over these areas. Well, that's because sightless creatures are lurking about and when they detect a noise, they're ready to kill. In one town, Lee and Evelyn are married with three children and one on the way, trying to survive from these creatures. It's made harder on them when one of their three children, the youngest of the three, is killed by one of these creatures. Through it all, they valiantly do everything in their power to survive, with Lee trying to send a distress signal for them to be rescued.
I think it's revealing that Don't Breathe is a really good film and yet, this film manages to be 10 times better, specifically for two reasons. One: the situation and atmosphere are more dire. In Don't Breathe, there were brief pauses in the suspense to whisper and formulate. Plus, the last third kinda turned into a Human Centipede-esque, quasi-gross out film, albeit very muted and very well-done. Here, sound is virtually abolished and the creatures aren't some manipulative, cunning creeps. They're spry, bloodthirsty monsters, who will strike at even an ioda of recognizable sound. So, there is very sparse time to regroup and out-think them. If they catch you, there's no turning back.
This film really is scarier than Don't Breathe. It is the first horror film where I actually had to cover my eyes, because I was that horrified for these characters. Director/co-writer John Krasinski (yes, "Jim from The Office" John Krasinski) plays around so much more with the idea of sound being your worst enemy. In this film, though, it seems to dive into more about the need for liberation; the need for release. You pray for sound, just so they don't have to feel confined, yet you dread any sound because it could indicate their swift, fatal downfall.
And that need for liberation slightly plays into the other reason why this film is better than Don't Breathe: the emotional investment. In Don't Breathe, there was some substantial, shrewd character development, but it wasn't exactly bloated with transcendent, heartfelt emotion. Now, this isn't a disadvantage on Don't Breathe's side. It probably wouldn't have been as good if it did try to be heartfelt or emotionally raw. This film tries for that and it works extraordinarily well to its advantage. Not only are the characters adequately developed, but they all have a sweet, damaged core to them, seeing how they are all reeling from the loss of a family member.
The emotion of the film is firmly established and explored with before the tense scenes, making the characters more identifiable. The most gripping scenes were, obviously, the horror scenes. However, the most powerful scenes, the ones that lingered the heaviest, were the emotional scenes. One specific scene is straightforward in execution, oblique in meaning, and poignant in feeling. It's a scene that occurs between Lee and his son. They have experienced some liberation, as they are able to talk and yell at a waterfall where the creatures can't hear them. Eventually, they have a talk relating to the events that killed his younger brother. Lee says, "It's no one's fault," then it immediately cuts to Evelyn back at the house, crying.
In this scene, Lee and the son are able to relieve some stress and anguish, but she is unable to. She needed to hear that, too, to feel, again, some liberation, but in that moment, she is still carrying that pain, that emotional baggage, in addition to the horror of anybody leaving the house not returning. The potency of this scene makes it one of the strongest emotional moments of this or any other horror film. Another scene that stood out in the emotional department is during the morning after Evelyn gives birth. They both say, "It's a boy," but monotonously, with no joy, no verve, and undistracted by the situation at hand. They have not been put in any position to revel in this moment or enjoy it and given their environment, you can hear the mature, controlled level of not guilt, but moreso fear that strikes them in the soul. They have another body that could be gone as swiftly as it came. It's astounding how a horror film can pack an emotional punch on a human level, not just a visceral, self-inserting level.
On a technical level, this film excels at well. In a film focused on sound, they certainly use it in hauntingly effective ways. When any mere sound occurs, it's punctuated with all the bombast of a Transformers battle. To be fair, it could've just been me seeing it in Dolby in a reverberant, interactive chair, but given how the sound editors also worked on Transformers films, I'm going to just assume they know what they're doing. Even further, specific moments have no diagenic sound at all, in order to reflect the perspective of the daughter, who is deaf. A certain sound from hers does play into the climax and while I did go back and forth on whether I thought it was satisfactory or too simplistic, I feel that, in the end, it's clever how it's utilized.
The score, composed by former Wes Craven collaborator Marco Beltrami, has a specific motif to it, which adds to the ambiance. It's as if he, too, is aware of the character's limitations of sounds and uses the repetitiveness of the music as a way to keep everything in balance and safe. Wise work, Mr. Beltrami. The cinematography by Charlotte Bruus Christensen is beautifully brutal and dour. What's surprising is that for a film based on taut limitations, the shots are vast and wide and aren't claustrophobic in the slightest, which adds more seclusion and pain. Sure, the shots of the forest look gorgeous, but it is all imbued with that debasing feeling of separation and loneliness. Granted, there are some tight shots, but only when the tensions mounts up. Whatever the tone, Christensen uses the camera deftly and impeccably. The creatures themselves, while CGI, are actually some of the most realistic creatures I've seen in a horror film. They are actually crafted with a lot of detail and grotesque personality, particularly when the film hones it on the creatures' ear canals.
And of course, seeing how the emotion of the film is so powerful, the performances are all excellent. John Krasinski and Emily Blunt are married in real life, so it makes the chemistry and closeness of their characters of Lee and Evelyn all the more tangible, believable, and moving. Krasinski has a contemplative, emotionally intuitive, warmly thoughtful vibe that I've ever seen from him and Emily Blunt probably gives her best performance yet, being naturally sycophantic to fit the moment, which seeing how the director's her husband...yeah, I guess that's kind of a given. Her performance balances a humble pluckiness and a searing vulnerability, particularly in a scene where she has to hide from the creatures, all the while struggling with an injury. Oh, and while giving birth, too.
The performances are all great because they don't exaggerate or indicate the emotions. To complement the minimal audio, they play their characters simply and gently, only ratcheting up the emotion when it's fitting. The best student of this technique of raw naturalism is young up-and-comer Millicent Simmonds, playing the deaf daughter (while being deaf in real life) with a relatable defiance, a controlled sense of pathos, and a mild sneer.
You know, in an era where most, if not all forms of entertainment, are fighting to be symbolic, or outspoken, or trying to be complimentary with current, topical issues and climates, it's refreshing to see a film that's just a straightforward, scary film with a mildly subversive twist. I hear John Kransinski himself trying to preach that this film is supposed to be both a metaphor for parenthood and for our political situation. While I understand what he's trying to say, can't we all just enjoy entertainment for being entertainment, like we used to, every now and then? Just this once? However, I'm not upset or mad at him for this. I think this stems from something that actually is an enlightening thing to witness: we're getting bored with merely entertainment. Millennials, Generation Z, whomever you want to label, we want to progress, we're working towards progression, and we want our entertainment to reflect that. While I'm pleased to see creators of any form of media play around with satire or with complex social commentary, I choose to view this film as entertainment that manages to be horrifying, heartfelt, and technically adroit.
Wow, Michael Bay! You actually can be subtle. All you need is to keep letting other people direct movies for you. Sounds like a plan to me!
RATING: Three-and-three-quarters stars out of four
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