With Bong Joon-ho's Parasite (2019) winning the Oscar for Best Picture, and what seems to be a steady stream of films from directors like Jordan Peele (Get Out, 2017; Us, 2019), Ari Aster (Hereditary, 2018; Midsommar, 2019), and Robert Eggers (The Witch, 2015; The Lighthouse, 2019); it seems we've entered into a golden age of arthouse horror films that use the genre to tackle social issues, explore the human condition, and study characters.
Natalie Erika James's debut Relic, released July 3rd by IFC Films, seems to be the latest in this vein; and like those other movies, it succeeds.
Relic transcends the genre: it's the kind of horror movie I would tell people who don't typically like horror movies to watch. It's not because of the acting (though I loved the performances, and Robyn Nevin's facial expressions alone make it worth the watch). It's not because of the imagery (though I wondered at the surreal dimensions of the house, particularly in the second half).
It's because of the subject. Like Parasite does for social class, Get Out does for micro- and macro- aggression, and Hereditary does for mental illness, Relic exposes the horror of old age, dementia, and the experiences of family members who are trying to provide care for their loved ones while also respecting their independence.
For that, the film is worth watching, and anyone who has experiences with these issues will see themselves in this movie from the very beginning.
Spoilers Beyond This Point. You've Been Warned.
Relic opens with a staple of horror imagery: an overflowing tub. The water moves almost like a character, through thresholds and down the stairs, and it's beautifully shot; but if you've watched the trailer (as I had) before viewing the film, you have a different horror on your mind Grandma has forgotten the tub is filling.
This kind of interplay, between classic horror imagery and an allegory for old age and dementia, weaves its way throughout the film.
Whether it is Edna's (the grandmother played by Robyn Nevin) disappearance that brings her daughter (Emily Mortimer) and granddaughter (Bella Heathcote) to the house, or her paranoia that her relatives are there to take advantage of her, there are several scenes that both horror fans and families dealing with dementia will recognize.
But the film doesn't stop there, it also looks at the complex relationships between mothers, daughters, and granddaughters, particularly when it comes to the disagreements that arise over how best to care for Edna as her dementia worsens. Kay (Mortimer's character) plays the role of mid-career, successful daughter, so busy she has not had time to accurately keep track of her mother's illness. On one hand, she enables her mother by using understatements like "she forgets things," while on the other, she fights to convince her own daughter (Heathcote) her mother needs a nursing home. Also included in the film is the guilt and defensiveness that comes with feeling you're not doing enough (and that the care you're providing is being judged by others). Both very real, relatable feelings. There is more, too, and I'm not going to get into everything, but suffice to say that most (if not all) moments in this film that refer to caring for someone with dementia is something I've experienced personally.
Meanwhile, Sam (the granddaughter) struggles to reconcile her own experiences and memories with her grandma, which are more positive and speak to the spoiling that happens to grandchildren, with (what is for her) the burgeoning horror of what her grandmother has become. This brings us to something else worth discussing: the visual metaphors in the film and how they come in.
We Built This House on Memories
One of the most important (and most disturbing) metaphors in this movie is the one used for dementia, which is shown to be a sort of internal bruising that takes over the entire body until the person is nigh unrecognizable, a metaphor that is driven home with dialogue like, "It's not her anymore" or "It's not gran." This metaphor was the only piece that was disappointing for me because of how it used darkness (represented by the bruises) as a stand-in for the evil of the film. Though it is well-used for showing the way dementia is carried through generations.
For me, the most interesting imagery came in the second half, when Sam explores a passageway she finds in her grandmother's closet. It's in this moment that an earlier line of seemingly innocuous dialogue (something along the lines of, "This house has all my memories") becomes literal, and we can see the surreal passageways and degradation of the rooms within which Sam is trapped as representing the degradation of her grandmother's memory.
And there are enough other interesting visuals throughout to supply viewers with plenty to think about and question. Talking about them wouldn't do them justice; you should really just watch the film.
Conclusion
Which brings me to my last point: should you watch this movie? In short, yes. Yes, because it is a thoughtful, modern, classic horror film in the same category of Get Out. Yes, because it gives the audience an complex, relatable view of a family dealing with dementia. Yes, because I want to see more movies like this on a whole range of topics: movies that show us the horror of our lives in beautiful, solvable, 90-minute ways.
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