‘It’s just meat…’
Talk to Me, directed by Danny and Michael Philippou, was a horror sensation and box office hit back in 2022, and now the Australian brothers and filmmaking duo are back in the world of the supernatural for Bring Her Back. While the two films are unconnected, this sophomore effort feels like a spiritual sequel to their debut film, both tonally and in terms of aesthetic and theme. The difference being that Bring Her Back is less fun-in-a-twisted-way and more fucking-bleak-in-a-twisted way…
Following the death of their father, half siblings Andy (Billy Barratt), on the verge of turning 18, and his younger, visually impaired half-sister, Piper (Sora Wong), are sent to live with grieving mother, Laura (Sally Hawkins). Oliver (Jonah Wren Phillips), a mute and seemingly troubled boy, also lives in the house. Very quickly, it becomes clear that Laura is not what she seems.
Nominally a psycho-biddy horror in the vein of What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? or The Taking of Deborah Logan, Bring Her Back explores the raw heartache of grief and the panicked confusion of childhood through the lens of body horror, occultism and psychological horror. While Talk to Me had plenty of moments of humour, particularly in the first act, Bring Her Back is pitch black in tone from the off. Andy imagines the naked and vomit-covered ghost of his father returning to haunt him in the shower. Piper is continually lied to and decieved by both Andy and Laura (a deliciously nasty use of dramatic irony that is devilishly effective). Perhaps more distressing is the treatment of Oliver. He is seen as an afterthought by Laura until he does something terrible and then both the character and the audience are forced to reckon with the truth behind the child-in-the-attic trope employed (and subverted) here.
Bring Her Back is a terrifying thrillride that contains some of the most tense moments of horror that I have witnessed for ages – particularly in the show-stopping third act. The performances of the four main cast members are genuinely pheonmenal (if this were not a horror film, Oscar nods would surely be forthcoming for both Hawkins and Wong), and this ensures that we are fully invested by the time shit really hits the fan during the unforgettable conclusion. The final shot – which I won’t spoil here – is both devastating and poignant – the kind of parting shot that stays with you long after the credits have rolled.
While it’s not a crowd-pleaser in the way that Talk to Me undoubtedly was, this is an intelligent and visceral slice of modern psychological horror that confirms that the Philippou brothers are now the most interesting new horror filmmakers on the scene. I can’t wait to see where they go from here.
