Talk to Me reaches for the unknown
The supernatural horror film sticks with you well after leaving the theater
On July 13th, 2023, the Screen Actors Guild went on strike against the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers, the trade association that represents over 350 American television and film production companies. Members of this union are demanding their fair share of the profits that their hard work and dedication produces for these multinational media conglomerates and their overpaid CEOs.
There has been conflicting information on what does and does not count as crossing the picket line, and questions were raised if reviewing new films acted as promotion, a prohibited act under the strike rules. However, after reviewing all of the information available, movie reviews seem to be permissible for non-union members, and we’ve decided to continue reviewing new films in theaters and on streaming services as planned.
That being said, CineMancuso and The New Artist Workshop unequivocally stand with workers - above and below the line, striking or not, unionized or not - and we’re not going to remove this disclaimer from our reviews until the studios satisfy the union’s demands.
If you want to help the cause, post about it on social media, or donate to each union’s respective strike funds. Alone, we can’t do anything. Together, we can change everything.
When I was a teenager, an adult that I knew told us a story: when she was a teenager, a close friend of hers died in a tragic car accident. Some time later, screwing around with a Ouija board, she and her friends became convinced that their friend was trying to communicate with them beyond the grave. They sought the guidance of a priest, who said to be wary: demons and other supernatural forces can and do pretend to be deceased loved ones in order to gain your trust. Whether or not they were actually communicating to someone (or something) supernatural, I always found the anecdote chilling; regardless of your belief in the afterlife and its mechanics, the idea of our grief being exploited by a pure (almost incomprehensible) evil proves more terrifying than the most horrific imagery we can put to screen. It’s part of our evolutionary development, an acute fear of the unknown, leveraged by filmmakers for generations - as the monster lurks in the shadows, whatever unknowable horror that our brains conjure up supersede whatever a filmmaker thinks will scare us the most. But that idea - unknowingly giving yourself over to the dark forces of the universe - has always rattled me. With my interest in the narrative idea (potentially one day pursuing it in a screenplay of my own), I was intrigued by the premise of Talk to Me, featuring reckless teenagers contacting spirits using a mysterious embalmed hand. While my own artistic inclinations would have pushed the idea further, this directorial debut from Danny and Michael Philippou makes for a solid summer horror flick that roots its horrors in its characters.
The horror film genre has always struggled with how to scare its audience. There are obviously a plethora of options, but they can all be represented by two different approaches- the physiological and the psychological. The physiological approach relies on human reflex and involuntary reaction. Think of a cheap jump scare - our brains are hardwired to respond quickly to potential, sudden threats. A loud bang breaking a deafening silence, or a sudden figure appearing where there was none, even if we consciously know it is not an actual threat, triggers the amygdala, which in turn increases adrenaline. But the feeling doesn’t last - give it a few seconds, and your body will return to its normal state. The scare is evanescent, leaving little to no impact. Such tactics work well on gaggles of teens, using the opportunity in the cinema more as a way to hang out with friends, but for a jaded adult film critic, they grate on my patience rather quickly. The trailers before this film featured so many jump scares that I would audibly yell “oh, for God’s sake!” masked only by the deafeningly loud sound levels. Contrast that with the psychological approach, which makes you want to crawl out of your skin more than it makes you jump out of your seat. These films sit with you, fester and stew as you try to fall asleep that night, replaying those terrible scenarios over and over in your head. The twin Philippou brothers take the latter approach, with few jump scares to speak of. They instead opt for uncomfortable and unsettling moments, disgusting in their presentation and awful in their implications. But oftentimes, the deepest horror is in what we don’t see - a world beyond our comprehension that threatens to take advantage of a disillusioned generation.
The social commentary here is compelling and organic; despite the value in new technology, we’ve inevitably become more and more isolated, siloed into closed systems that reinforce our worst insecurities and deepest fears. Today’s teenagers are more connected and more alone than ever before, exacerbated by radical social transformations caused by the pandemic. These are people desperately seeking connection, to know and be known. Characters in the film reflect this reality - best friends in the same room ignore one another to scroll on their phones. The human brain will never give them the same satisfaction from digital communication that direct communication provides, so they turn to things like drugs - or, in this case, a demonic embalmed hand - to feel alive, to feel free, to feel something. One wonders why these characters would not be more cautious with such a dangerous activity, but they’re willing to forego those risks in pursuit of that elusive reward. It doesn’t help that they exhibit an egregious lack of empathy or compassion for one another, pressuring their friends to partake in this dangerous ritual. As they colvuse and struggle, their “friends” film these episodes on their phones, creating a digital partition between the safety of entertainment and the gravity of the real world. I was not a teenager all that long ago, so I don’t mean to condescend down to today’s youth, but the Philippou brothers take what were concerns when I was in high school and extrapolate them to horrific heights.
But the film, at a lean 95 minutes, is not a thorough examination of teenage sociology or our relationship to the demonic. These ideas are explored, but only superficially. While a great feature directorial debut, it is still a debut, and on its own merits, it’s a solid, if conventional, horror film. The premise is fairly straightforward, but this lets us jump right into the action without clumsy exposition. The embalmed hand is a fantastic horror film device - tactile, simple to use, easy to understand, and, above all else, consistent. Understanding the rules of the hand helps give shape to the character’s decision-making process. However, characters aren’t always as active as they could be; protagonist Mia has an interesting arc, but she’s fairly passive throughout the story, and minor enhancements to her agency could have deepened the tragedy of her character. But Mia reflects a scattershot plot, linked together by compelling set pieces and scenarios. Pacing is elastic, oftentimes feeling either rushed or sluggish. But this problem is not unique to this film, as horror films tend to suffer from such narrative issues. Above all else, the script exists mainly to serve the scares, further aided by competent performances from the entire cast.
Horror films have always been a bit opportunistic - with high concept loglines oftentimes reflecting cultural anxieties of the time, such films tend to succeed at the box office due to small budgets that have only shrunk over the years. But because they’re cheap and “easy” to make, the market gets flooded with a deluge of bargain bin B-movies. But Danny and Michael Philippou have taken the road less traveled, crafting an effective, if perhaps simple, supernatural horror film that does more than activate our amygdalas. Talk to Me scratches an itch that audiences are rarely able to satisfy, and the film’s box office success speaks to that satisfaction. While perhaps overpraised, the film represents a wonderful dress rehearsal for whatever the Philippou brothers are cooking up next.