THE STORY – Following the death of their father, a brother and sister are introduced to their new sibling by their foster mother, only to learn she has a terrifying secret.
THE CAST – Billy Barratt, Sora Wong, Sally Hawkins & Jonah Wren Phillips
THE TEAM – Danny Philippou (Director/Writer), Michael Philippou (Director) & Bill Hinzman (Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 109 Minutes
Sullen teenager Andy (Billy Barratt) and his legally blind half-sister Piper (Sora Wong) have a strong bond. That’s a good thing because, after their father unexpectedly dies in the shower, they’re thrust into the foster care system against their will. Andy is mere months shy of being legally able to care for Piper himself. Still, until then, the two must live with Laura (Sally Hawkins), a single mother whose own blind daughter, Cathy (Mischa Heywood), drowned some time ago and whose son Oliver (Jonah Wren Phillips) has been mute and prone to violent fits ever since his sister passed. At first, Laura seems like a lovable kook who sees Piper as a replacement for Cathy, but as time goes by, it becomes clear she means to cut Andy out of the picture by any means necessary to keep Piper for herself. What are Laura’s plans for Piper? Will Andy be able to save himself and his sister? And what’s inside that locked pool shed that Oliver seems desperate to get into?
Danny and Michael Philippou’s sophomore feature “Bring Her Back” feels like a natural next step from their debut, the thrillingly nasty and hauntingly emotional ghost story “Talk To Me.” Both films deal with overcoming impossible grief through supernatural means, but “Bring Her Back” tells its story much more obliquely. Frustratingly, while Andy and Piper are presented as the film’s main characters, the film’s actual main character is Laura, whose motives are easily understood but whose actual plans lack clarity until the film’s rushed last act. The air of mystery that pervades the film’s first half exerts an intoxicating pull, and the grainy ritualistic videos Laura desperately studies for her unknown purpose contribute greatly to that. However, so much of the story is obscured for a long time that it tries your patience, especially due to the methodical pacing of the film’s first half.
Thankfully, the actors do wonderful work papering over that storytelling lapse, turning in work rich with detail and heavy with emotion. Barratt and Wong have a natural sibling rapport complicated by their grief and parts of their history they don’t share. They’re both naturals onscreen, and Barratt does phenomenal work as Andy gets pushed to the brink of his sanity, looking like each new thing that goes wrong is making him increasingly ill. Wong, vision-impaired herself, is a wonder in her first film performance, effortlessly communicating Piper’s inner life without any dialogue. Phillips has some truly disturbing material to perform, for which he has to wear some gnarly prosthetics, and while the makeup team goes all out tracking his transformation into something unholy, the young actor’s charisma and commitment prove formidable enough all on their own.
However, at the end of the day, this is the Sally Hawkins show. The versatile actress has to call on every tool at her disposal to play Laura, and she does so easily, belying the difficulty of the role. Laura is, at bottom, a grieving mother, and Hawkins so effectively plays on the audience’s sympathy in the early going that you still feel for her despite her increasingly desperate, despicable behavior. Laura is a mess, a free spirit of a woman fighting through the incomparable grief of losing a child. Hawkins does magnificent work ensuring that all of Laura’s seeming contradictions always feel like they’re coming from the same person. She fully embraces Laura’s complexity as a grieving mother up to some nefarious actions in the name of her grief, depicting astonishing emotional clarity and daringly ugly actions.
The problem is that Laura hijacks Andy and Piper’s narrative in a way that works thematically but feels awkward. Despite being presented as our protagonists, Andy and Piper are the audience’s entry point into Laura’s world, and it’s her desires, not theirs, that truly drive the narrative. That’s a legitimate approach, especially since the story is in part about Laura slowly taking over Andy and Piper’s lives, but, in execution, it’s somewhat messy, treading water for much of the film’s middle as the Philippous try to balance Laura’s story with those of Andy and Piper.
Even though the story’s execution may leave something to be desired, the film’s technical execution shows that the Philippous aren’t resting on their laurels after “Talk to Me.” Piper describes her sight as being little more than light and shapes, and cinematographer Aaron McLisky uses that as a jumping-off point for the overall look of the film, often smudging the focus so that we can’t see clearly. It’s an effective way of putting the audience in Piper’s shoes, but it never comes across as an obvious gimmick because it’s so thoroughly woven into the film’s fabric. Leaving much of Laura’s story opaque until the film’s third act requires a steady hand, both to build tension in the build-up and to keep it from going off the rails after everything comes to a head for the jaw-dropping climax.
The brothers build tension terrifyingly well, allowing the most shocking moments of violence to linger in their most unsettling moments instead of relying on jump scares for horror. When the time comes to let loose, they do so in operatic fashion, with a massive thunderstorm, lots of broken glass and bodies, and gallons of blood. Suddenly, the film’s methodical pacing explodes, rushing through plot points and character revelations at exhilarating speed. While they weren’t exactly holding back before, the Philippous dial it all the way up for the film’s climax, mixing potent imagery with a superb sound mix to create a memorable ending as emotionally devastating as it is viscerally frightening. While their storytelling choices for the film’s first two-thirds may frustrate a bit in the moment, their patience pays off by the end. “Bring Her Back” announces the Philippous as masters of dark, twisted emotional storytelling and that they are here to stay.
