THE STORY – The host of a popular paranormal podcast becomes haunted by terrifying recordings mysteriously sent her way.
THE CAST – Nina Kiri, Adam DiMarco, Michèle Duquet, Keana Lyn Bastidas & Jeff Yung
THE TEAM – Ian Tuason (Director/Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 93 Minutes
Ghosts and technology always mix. Ever since humans started harnessing electricity for our personal convenience, we’ve told stories about spirits of the dead messing with our lights, phones, appliances, and anything else that can be plugged into a wall. It was only a matter of time before they started infecting podcasts. The popular method of internet broadcasting has seemingly reached a zenith of cultural dominance (just ask the Golden Globes), which means that it’s finally time for horror to ruin the fun of podcasting for everyone in the most wicked of ways. Ian Tuason, making his feature debut as both writer and director, has crafted an incredibly impressive film that uses minimal resources for maximum scares.
Our main heroine (and the film’s only on-screen speaking character) is Evy (Nina Kiri), a young woman who spends her days caring for her dying, unresponsive mother (Michèle Duquet) and her nights recording a podcast with her co-host Justin (Adam DiMarco). All this takes place in her childhood home, which we never leave for the entire duration of the film. Justin calls in to record remotely from London, necessitating recordings to take place in the wee hours of the very early morning. Their podcast is called “The Undertone,” where they talk about “all things creepy.” The pair of friends has very defined roles: Justin is the believer, and Evy is the skeptic. They lean into this dynamic, talking about having to “get into character.” As our story begins, Justin receives a mysterious email from an unknown address containing a cryptic message and 10 audio files. They decide to listen to the files in order as they’re recorded to elicit an authentic reaction, knowing their listeners will eat it up. The files contain audio of what sounds like a married couple (Keana Lyn Bastidas and Jeff Yung), with the wife beginning to talk and perform unsettling actions in her sleep. Unsurprisingly, the recordings grow increasingly disturbing as they continue, and Evy also begins to notice strange occurrences around her home, with a similar increase in aggressiveness. She struggles to balance caring for her mother, hosting her podcast, and maintaining her own sanity in the face of what may be otherworldly forces.
The self-contained nature of the story gives the film an overwhelming sense of claustrophobia. We never see the sky or hear the rustle of the breeze; we’re simply trapped in Evy’s mother’s house, filled with dark corners, harsh artificial lighting, and creepy religious art and figurines. Adding to this sense of haunted isolation is the complete absence of any active physical characters besides Evy. Yes, we see her mother lying motionless and silent in bed, but every other voice we hear (Justin, a hospice nurse, the married couple in the audio recordings) comes from an unseen source. Evy is alone and, judging by a tense phone call with her boyfriend, lonely. The film’s bleak, colorless aesthetic only adds to the depressing, dreadful feeling that hangs over the entire movie.
Obviously, this film relies heavily on its sound work. And thankfully, it’s uniformly excellent, both technically and creatively. The mix is perfect; most effectively, whenever Evy puts on her noise-cancelling headphones during a recording, all the subtle, extraneous sounds from the room go away. We only hear exactly what Evy hears – Justin’s voice and the terrifying audio recordings – and they’re as clear and loud as if we were sharing her headphones (not to detract from the power of the theatrical experience, because the sound is overwhelming and terrifying in a theater, but the film might be just as scary if watched while wearing headphones). Differences in volume are used perfectly. In one scene, Evy turns the sound all the way up in order to try to catch a quiet, frightening piece of audio, which immediately puts viewers on edge. And the construction of the creepy audio files is both terrifying in its own right and sounds exactly like an unnerving piece of supposedly haunted media you might find on the Internet. The sound work in “Undertone” is perfect and absolutely deserving of awards recognition.
Like most horror movies, the film’s haunted happenings increase in ferocity as it races toward the end credits. And the payoff is incredible. The film’s final sequence is heart-racingly scary. This critic is a pretty tough cookie, and I could barely hold my note-taking pen by the end of the film because my palms were so sweaty. And like the best horror movies, “Undertone” is not only frightening, it’s upsetting. Evy’s situation is unusual for obvious reasons, but it’s absolutely truthful in its depiction of the stresses and heartbreak of caring for an ailing family member. Tuason never lets us forget that, for all the otherworldly talk of demons and possession, there’s a very real, relatable family tragedy happening at the same time.
Since sound first became a tool filmmakers could use, directors have used the aural arts as one of the most essential elements when it comes to crafting a good fright. “Undertone” features one of the most innovative and effective uses of sound as a scare tactic in recent memory. Great news for my fellow sick freaks who like to feel their hearts racing: the film announces the arrival of an exceptional new creative force in horror. Ian Tuason has created a well-shot, unrelentingly scary time at the movies, and horror fans should listen up.
