As the average age of the population continues to rise—and the future looks increasingly dangerous for all age groups—more and more films are addressing senility, dementia, elder abuse, and other themes that until recently were rarely portrayed on screen. This includes the horror genre, which has typically focused on terrifying young teenagers. Joining recent films like "The Taking of Deborah Logan," "The Manor," and "The Rule of Jenny Pen" is "The Home," a Swedish-language thriller in which a stroke victim moves into a care facility. But it's not the only one, as, sadly, the few moments she spent clinically "dead" allowed an evil spirit to return to her from "the other side."
This SXSW premiere, "Midnighter," is likely to attract remake offers, though the intense scares and violence they're likely to add would only dilute what makes Mattias J. Skoglund's second film so effective. Its eerily quiet approach to a fantastical story casts a much more potent spell than many larger, louder "possession" tales replete with terrifying effects and other hyperbolic elements. Less is definitely more in this modestly scaled, eerily realistic horror spectacle.
Director: James DeMonaco
Writers: James DeMonaco, Adam Cantor
Stars: Pete Davidson, John Glover, Ethan Phillips
Monika (Anki Liden), a small-town pensioner, is busy doing things in her kitchen when she falls to the floor, out of camera range, and although physically incapacitated, she can be heard shouting "No! Go away!" to an unseen presence. Her son Joel (Philip Oros) arrives shortly afterward from Stockholm to put her affairs in order; it is clear to everyone except herself that she cannot continue living alone, even with occasional visits from in-home caregivers. However, moving into the nearby Ekskuggan residence proves very unsettling for Monika, especially since she constantly forgets that the matter has been discussed with her many times before.
Her other son, Bjorn, doesn't offer much help, apparently too busy with his expanding business and family to devote time to her. So managing his mother's transition falls to Joel, who's used to bearing the brunt. A struggling musician who has struggled with addiction and other issues (he still drinks like a fish), his distant background is reinforced when a dazed, bedridden Monika initially mistakes him for Bjorn. But the root of her insecurities runs deeper: her late father (Peter Jankert as Bengt), who was an outright abuser, especially toward his wife and their "weaker," gay son.
Therefore, Joel finds it very disturbing when his frail mother announces, "Bengt was waiting for me," after her brush with death, and then suffers physical injuries—a fall from bed, a broken arm—while alone in her nursing home room. These ailments are assumed to be self-inflicted, but other, admittedly confused, residents also begin reporting strange occurrences.
One night, an orderly (Lily Wahlsteen) witnesses something in Monika's room that forces her to quit her job immediately. While vacating his parents' house in broad daylight, Joel is abruptly threatened by his father—or some similar vision—before vanishing as inexplicably as he appeared. His only ally in what begins to seem like a supernatural predicament is his childhood best friend, Nina (Gizem Erdogan), who also works at Ekskuggan. The situation escalates when she works the night shift there alone, inviting him to investigate whatever phenomenon is occurring.
As is often the case with slow-burn horror built on cautious restraint, these climactic events are arguably less effective in their relative explicitness than the preceding unease. But the final stretch of "The Home" is still quite satisfying, leaving the viewer with the uneasy feeling that the threat has by no means been vanquished. In fact, a strong point of the narrative is that we are never entirely clear what that threat is: Bengt himself, back from the grave? Or some evil entity capable of assuming whatever form most disturbs its prey?
There is nothing exaggerated or over-the-top about the lead actors' sudden predatory stare, which inevitably precedes something horrific coming out of their mouths. Unlike films where the "demon" or whatever it is spouts a torrent of profanity and blasphemy, Skoglund's script (co-written with Mats Strandberg, author of the original novel) features cruelly precise, personal commentary designed to inflict maximum psychological pain. That includes the despicable Bengt mocking his petrified son: "I always thought you'd die first, of AIDS."
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