Bring Her Back, 2025.
Directed by Danny and Michael Philippou.
Starring Sally Hawkins, Billy Barratt, Sora Wong, Jonah Wren Phillips, Olga Miller, Sally-Anne Upton, Stephen Phillips, Mischa Heywood, Liam Damons, and Alina Bellchambers.
SYNOPSIS:
A brother and sister uncover a terrifying ritual at the secluded home of their new foster mother.
The sophomore feature from YouTubers-turned-filmmakers Danny and Michael Philippou (once again with a screenplay co-written by Bill Hinzman), Bring Her Back, is about an unholy ritual. However, unlike their debut film Talk to Me, the impetus for the horror plays out in the background more, opting to put the characters front and center for something more methodically paced and psychological. That’s also not to say their first film lacked characterization (it didn’t), but more that these “ADHD Australians” are challenging themselves to put the onus of effectiveness somewhere else this time.
They still work in plenty of wince-inducing bodily harm, accentuated by top-notch practical effects and downright crunchy sound design (a specific type of harm is rendered unforgettable due to that framing and audio design). Still, there is an unexpected layer in store in that this is a sad movie by its end that, somehow, earns empathy for one psychotic person.
Bring Her Back dabbles in many familiar themes and plot points (especially for modern-day horror). However, it also has a strong understanding of its characters and how to layer their moral shadings, aware that exemplary craft will always offset and win out over tropes. This isn’t merely Danny and Michael Philippou telling a different type of horror story; it’s proof that they have evolved as filmmakers (and their first one was already pretty solid) and can likely make almost anything stand apart through distinctly upsetting visuals, simultaneously rad to take in.
There is another X factor here in the committed ensemble (put through emotional and physical hell, with the latter equally terrifying and eye-widening, fist-pumpingly awesome to behold in its graphic makeup effects) that is unquestionably on the twisted Philippou wavelength. The child performances are undeniably impressive, but star Sally Hawkins stands out in a role that is so much more than it would have been in the hands of a generic filmmaker who only sees this narrative as a means for shock value through the previously mentioned ritual rather than a vessel for a haunting, chilling, depressing, upsetting character study.
She plays Laura, still grieving the loss of her daughter in a drowning incident, now adopting early teen and partially blind Piper (Sora Wong) and her 17-year-old brother Andy (Billy Barratt). Technically, she only wants Piper, as Andy is considered a troubled child. However, he insists to his caseworker that they not be broken up and that he will stay out of trouble for the remaining three months until he can apply for guardianship over his sister. This all comes in the wake of a freak shower accident spelling the death of their father. The siblings don’t talk much about their father. It is somewhat convenient to keep some smaller character revelations under wraps for later on, which color in some lines about this family dynamic. As such, water, whether from bathtubs or pouring rainwater, makes for a stirring recurring visual motif.
Unbeknownst to the siblings, a 10-year-old child named Oliver (Jonah Wren Phillips) lives with Laura. There is also something immediately off about the situation, not necessarily due to his nonverbal condition, but his uncomfortably aggressive and feral nature. Before Laura can stress the importance of not letting the cat out the back door, it is almost strangled in Oliver’s hands, who is also creepily sitting in the drained-out pool where her daughter drowned. That so much of the story still clicks emotionally, despite how often one wants these kids to call the cops or get away from the house, is a testament to the Philippous as storytellers. Decisions and plot aspects are contorted to fit the characters, but what’s here is so compelling that there is a willingness to overlook it.
The title most likely already gives away what Laura is trying to accomplish here, which also means the first act sometimes meanders.. Wisely, the Philippou brothers don’t get caught up in ritual lore (only the bare minimum necessary information, and even that is kept at arm’s length for quite a while), exchanging that for a slower first act studying these people’s characters. Andy is highly protective of Piper due to her condition and their family’s past. However, the brothers also don’t use Piper’s disability to lower her resourcefulness. Meanwhile, Laura exists in an unsettling space of a somewhat affectionate guardian, who is also up to no good and setting Andy up for failure in staying out of trouble. As for Oliver, it’s almost unreal how much terror and feeling a first-time actor in Jonah Wren Phillips brings to a character, another one that could have ended up more clichéd than human.
There is a scene early on harkening back to Talk to Me with a party game, this time drinking one, where Laura and, yes, the foster children do some shots while warming up to another, collectively trying to process their grief. Much like how Scott Beck and Bryan Woods weaponized Hugh Grant’s charm in last year’s Heretic, Danny and Michael Philippou are up to something similar with Sally Hawkins, who hides a lot of pain and sinister mischievousness behind her smiles and warmth. There is an evil that is made increasingly apparent by the horrific transformation of Oliver (who is not himself, considering some of the film’s most disturbing scenes), but Bring Her Back refuses to play any of this out in a bland, one-note fashion. It is indisputably disturbing and devastating, more often than not driven by complex emotions.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★ ★
Robert Kojder is a member of the Chicago Film Critics Association, Critics Choice Association, and Online Film Critics Society. He is also the Flickering Myth Reviews Editor. Check here for new reviews and follow my BlueSky or Letterboxd
