Oddity: Objects and Space

The dread was concrete

I believe that places can be haunted. Whether or not ghosts wander through those places isn’t the determining factor, in my view. If something terrible has happened somewhere, I think the effects of the event linger in that location in an immaterial way. I of course cannot prove this belief, nor do I want to. It’s just something I feel in my gut. It’s why I hesitate to visit places with dark histories. There’s an oppressive feeling in the air.

Of course, objects have histories, too. Old things have passed through who knows how many hands. That used book you found on the shelf, who owned it before you? Who owned it before them? 

Some histories are pleasant, some not at all. And, if my belief about places makes sense to me, it’s fitting that I extend that belief to objects, too.

I try not to think about cursed objects, though. Maybe because the idea of something having so much concentrated energy freaks me out. I can always walk away from a haunted place. But, how does one remove a cursed object? The trash can cannot be enough if it has so much power in it.

I think cursed objects tap into my greater dread regarding the inescapability of the past. As much as they unnerve me, I had to meditate on them recently. They are the central storytelling devices in a horror film I watched, which I’d heard about but hadn’t had a chance to check out until now: Oddity (written and directed by Damian McCarthy). 

At first, I had no idea what to make of the title, but soon understood. The protagonist is Darcy (Carolyn Bracken), a psychic who cannot see but who still has the ability to conjure visions. She owns a shop of cursed objects called Odello’s Oddities. Her visions occur when she touches objects that have belonged to people. When she touches them, she witnesses their lives. Her twin sister Dani (also played by Bracken) was murdered a year ago as she was renovating a large, remote estate that she had moved into with her husband Ted (Gwilym Lee), who works as a psychiatrist. The man deemed responsible for her murder was a former patient of Ted’s at his hospital, a man named Olin Boole (Tadhg Murphy). Darcy acquires Olin’s glass eye after Olin’s death, and her visions reveal that Olin was innocent.

What follows is one of the spookiest and most dread-inducing mysteries I’ve watched in a while.

The film achieves its sense of heavy unease through locations and objects. The central location is the large estate that Ted owns, which he moves into with his girlfriend Yana (Caroline Menton) after his wife’s death. The opening scene as well as a flashback later depict Dani at the house, and its hallways, doors, and shadows are goosebump inducing. The precise cinematography by Colm Hogan emphasizes how the house is so large and blocks so much of itself out of sight. There’s no way anyone can get their bearings in that place. Line of sight is blocked by a doorway or staircase or some other architectural feature. When strange sounds occur, Dani has no way of knowing where they’re coming from. This is true throughout the film, as characters enter and exit the house.

The film also understands the power of objects. These become essential storytelling devices because they are introduced and later developed. Even objects that seem to be just minor details, little more than set decorations, have immense impacts on events that follow. I wish I could give examples here, but I don’t want to spoil anything. 

Though some objects gain importance later, some announce their significance immediately. The central object in the story is a large wooden mannequin that appears to depict a man screaming. Darcy brings it with her when she comes to Ted’s house unannounced on the exact one-year anniversary of Dani’s death. Escaping to work, Ted leaves Yana alone with Darcy and the freaky mannequin. 

It is truly the stuff of nightmares, the wooden man. Long ago, I had learned about the concept of the uncanny: the designation for things that combine the familiar and unfamiliar and often produce terror as a result. The wooden man is the very definition of uncanny. Its gaping mouth, wide eyes, and outstretched hands are so life-like that they carry the potential for violence. It’s a vessel for rage and aggression. 

The wooden man is often shown out of focus or at the edge of the frame, as if to suggest that looking at it directly might be unwise for the film viewer. Its constant presence thickens the atmosphere with dread.

The events in this film involving the central objects, in my mind, fall into two categories. Some are expected, but satisfying. Again, no spoilers, but there are objects set up in certain ways that allow you to predict what might end up happening. There is satisfaction in witnessing your prediction come true.

The second category covers knock-you-to-the-ground surprises. I had no idea that certain things would end up functioning in the ways they do.

On the topic of surprises, the editing is skillfully done by Brian Philip Davis to keep viewers on edge. A scene would frequently cut to a shot or image that would make my heart leap in my chest. As the film reached its final moments, I mentally told myself at several instances, “Oh my goodness, what the heck is going to happen next?” 

The scares wouldn’t be nearly as impactful if the story and characters weren’t compelling. At the heart of the film are Dani and Darcy. I commend Carolyn Bracken’s dual performance. In the few scenes she’s in, Dani’s warmth and love are evident. She cares about her sister and adores her husband. Darcy is an enigma. Her grief is palpable, but there is also so much else on her mind that she keeps to herself and only reveals at the instances she chooses. She is also burdened by the misunderstandings and skeptical responses of people who doubt her psychic abilities.  

One more aspect of the film that I applaud is its emphasis on real-world horrors. As much as it derives its power from spooky phenomena and things that go bump in the dark, it still pays attention to non-supernatural horrors through what might be considered its second major setting: the psychiatric hospital. Historically and today, psychiatric hospitals have been the sites for immense suffering, due to negligence, misunderstanding, lack of resources, or abuse. I’ve learned of brutal and inhumane acts that happened at psychiatric hospitals in the past because they were considered effective treatments. I’m not saying psychiatric hospitals are all bad. Not at all. As someone with psychological hardships, I understand the vital importance that people get the care they need. The tragic reality though is that places meant to heal and restore people sometimes do the exact opposite. This is the extension of the faults of society when it doesn’t do enough to protect its most vulnerable. 

Oddity is aware of this fact. It doesn’t dwell in the horrible occurrences at the hospital in a gratuitous way. Instead, it hints at them through specific details, lines of dialogue, and brief shots. Also, I think the film carries its message about how society doesn’t do enough to care for its most vulnerable members through the character of Olin, who becomes a tragic character. He is wrongfully punished for Dani’s murder, though he is innocent. 

Overall, this is an effective horror film. It builds tension to almost unbearable degrees, before bursting into a shocking moment. It also tells a powerful story about grief and pays attention to real-life tragedies. On top of all of this, its central objects, especially the wooden man, are going to stay with me for a long time. I can’t just get rid of them; they possess too much power.

I highly recommend this film to any horror fan who wants a great mystery. Plus, its atmosphere is perfect for this time of year, when the chill in the air is the reason, you tell yourself, that you have goosebumps.