THE STORY – Jack travels to a remote region of New Zealand to attend the wake of his estranged mother Elizabeth, a troubled architect who abandoned him as a child. Jack claims he was invited to the funeral by his mother’s widow, Jill, who has no recollection of contacting him.
THE CAST – Dacre Montgomery & Vicky Krieps
THE TEAM – Samuel Van Grinsven (Director/Writer) & Jory Anast (Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 100 Minutes
A chilly, possessive ghost story inspired by an English nursery rhyme will not be for everyone. Jack and Jill is one of the many Mother Goose tales of children’s literature to be passed down over generations. Examining the nursery as an adult opens its origin to an array of perspectives, including some that are more disturbing and historically relevant than innocently imagined. Writer and director Samuel Van Grinsven applies this sentiment to “Went Up The Hill,” a nocturnal nightmare that traces a shared cycle of abuse and trauma in remote New Zealand. Van Grinsven uses the familiar horror sub-genre of possession to uniquely convey estranged family dynamics following the death of a matriarch. Haunted by the relentless spirit of the dead, the living fight to let go of their trauma and regain control of who they are. “Went Up The Hill” carries a deep, dark secret that reveals itself only upon closer look. The journey to reach this reveal can be frustrating, as the film unfolds too ambiguously. However, the atmospheric direction and committed actors cast a lyrical spell that slowly but surely hooks you into an otherworldly place.
The film begins in mourning. Jack (Dacre Montgomery) travels to a secluded part of New Zealand where the wake for his mother, Elizabeth, is being held. His presence sets off warning bells for another family member, Helen (Sarah Peirse). Visibly confused, she stresses that Jack should not be here, and his very invitation is a mystery to all. Jack claims that Elizabeth’s widow Jill (Vicky Krieps) had called and asked him to come, but Jill has no recollection of even knowing he existed, let alone inviting him. The film lingers close at hand around this uncertainty without explanation. Mysterious humming, coarsely delivered dialogue, and an ambient score take the place of clear exposition. Van Grinsven pushes the viewer to feel their way through the story in a sensory way. This allows the possession narrative to manifest like a thick fog that creeps in slowly until it envelopes everything in its path.
Jill is the first to discover that, upon falling asleep, she can channel Elizabeth’s spirit and act entirely as her. While possessed by Elizabeth, Jill calls for Jack and informs him that the two are mother and son. Initially perturbed by this encounter from beyond the grave, Jack soon accepts the possession as commonplace in his search for answers. Jill accepts it, too, though she reacts with more curiosity. Elizabeth is an entity that manifests primarily through Jack and Jill’s minds. Their voices and appearances remain unchanged, which is often not the case with typical possession horror stories.
In a screenplay co-written by Van Grinsven and Jory Anast, the ghost plays a more intriguing thematic role by infiltrating the characters’ choice of words and, ultimately, their perspectives on the past. Elizabeth’s spirit acts to stop Jack and Jill from breaking a cycle of abuse. The more she keeps their minds frozen in time, the harder it is for them to let her go. Her relentless spirit is written as a neat parallel to how intergenerational trauma gets inherited. Whether someone is physically on this earth or not, their presence makes a mark, inviting the audience to reflect on the lasting impact of trauma.
The film powerfully visualizes how troubling it can be for the living to wrestle with what the dead leave behind. Elizabeth has such a deep hold on Jack and Jill that their personalities feel stilted. Their dialogue is often coarse and lacks a natural flow of communication. This makes the story tiring to follow in the first act. But, once the concept is in full play, the film eventually finds its groove. Vicky Krieps and Dacre Montgomery share a third character between the two of them, which makes for an interesting duo of performances.
Without extensive dialogue, more attention is placed on the actors’ physicality to guide this story. The subtle shifts in their movements, intonations, and facial expressions tell the viewer precisely when Elizabeth’s presence has arrived. Both Krieps and Montgomery impressively weave between the different perspectives. Krieps, in particular, stands out with superb spontaneity and intuitiveness. She has a remarkable, curious spirit present in all of her work, and Jill is another intriguing character in her repertoire. Montgomery also holds his own alongside Krieps, especially in the final act when Jack grapples with an unbearable truth.
In addition to a great cast, the visual and sonic storytelling create an appropriately moody atmosphere. The creaky house where the wake is held has a very minimal design, the haunting score effectively incorporates ambient vocals, and the recurring humming sounds neatly indicate when the characters are in a possessed trance. The mountainous geographical isolation of New Zealand also adds to a sense of loneliness. Through strong aesthetics, the film captures a chill in the air. Also, Sherree Phillips’s production design stands out by incorporating Jill’s talents as a weaver into the film’s setting. The play on textures adds layers to the cold, subdued color palette, enhancing the film’s immersive atmosphere.
“Went Up The Hill” takes a little while to get going, and that may turn off some viewers to its unapologetically drawn-out pace. The concept gets muddled by an overtly ambiguous screenplay, and a few head-scratching choices are made on how Elizabeth’s spirit is sometimes channeled. But Van Grinsven shows a singular voice in crafting a ghost story that feels familiar in tone but captivates with its unique narrative focus. The film takes an intriguing approach to the horror sub-genre of possession stories by weaving estranged family dynamics with haunted musings on intergenerational trauma.
