CW: discussions of drug abuse, self harm, and suicide
Summer movie season is starting, and I’m interested in the horror films that are on the horizon. As I await scaring myself in the dark auditoriums with fellow fans (there’s a special energy to watching a horror film with a crowd), I’m reminded of my favorite horror film from last year, which came out during the summer in the United States and which I’ve ranked as among my top ten overall films of 2023: Talk to Me, directed by Danny Philippou & Michael Philippou, screenplay by Danny Philippou and Bill Hinzman, based on a concept by Daley Pearson.
I highly recommend this film to anyone who hasn’t seen it yet. I’ll briefly describe the premise and share my praise of the film before I dive into spoilers and meditate on some themes.
The premise is a fascinating spin on the possession story. The film focuses on a group of teenage friends who mess around with a haunted, embalmed hand. They perform rituals in which they become temporarily possessed, with the hand serving as a conduit for spirits to enter their bodies. Each possession is filmed and shared on social media. In this way, the film places spirit possession in the category of party trick or dangerous viral trend, illustrating how the genre of horror can expertly morph to address different social phenomena when handled with care by skillful storytellers.
The direction is incredible, blending the fear and danger of the premise with its more lighthearted dimension: youthful thrill seeking. The moments of the teenage characters goofing around with this haunted object are filmed with dynamic, kinetic shots and are set to upbeat music. The tone here allows the darker and more dreadful moments to land even harder elsewhere. When the fun stops and the danger emerges, these frightening moments are filmed with slower camera movements and goosebump-inducing music. I also adore the film’s use of shadow. So many times as I watched, I had to lean forward even as I felt my heart racing, trying to look closer into the shadows while dreading what I might end up seeing.
On the topic of execution, the opening scene of this film is masterfully done. It’s a single long take that follows a character as he navigates a nighttime house party, searching for someone. The scene is energetic, tense, sorrowful, and shocking; it brilliantly sets the stage for the whole film.
Just as the directors and writers do incredible work, so too do the performers. The entire cast is magnificent. Each character feels layered and has a range of feelings, depending on the circumstances. The central character is Mia (Sophie Wilde), who begins the film at a ceremony in remembrance of her mother’s (Alexandria Steffensen) recent death. She bottles conflicted, heavy emotions as she carries the weight of the tragedy and loss while trying to maintain her relationships with her father and her friends. Of course, these relationships are fraught. She keeps herself closed off from her father (Marcus Johnson) and spends most of her time at the house of her friend Jade (Alexandra Jensen). The friendship is bumpy, since Jade does as much as she can for Mia even though helping hasn’t been easy. Of course, no one can blame Mia, but this doesn’t change the difficult reality. The actors convey this knotty blend of care and friction so skillfully. A simple gesture or a look is enough to convey uneasiness or warmth.
Adding complications to the state of things are the fact that Mia is much more overtly friendly toward Jade’s younger brother Riley (Joe Bird), who butts heads with Jade as part of typical teenage clashing. The sheer range that both of these actors display based on who they’re talking to feels so real. Another wrinkle in the fold: Jade is also dating Daniel (Otis Dhanji), whom Mia had a crush on in the past. An undercurrent of awkwardness emerges when he appears or when he’s the subject of conversation.
This movie is one of those horror movies in which much of the terror and dread comes through the experiences of the characters. If audiences don’t care about the characters, this film falls apart. Because the actors do such incredible work bringing their characters to life, and because the script and layered performances make them feel so real, we as viewers are deeply invested in them. When horrible things happen, we feel the characters’ fear and sadness.
I also want to commend two additional actors, Zoe Terakes and Chris Alosio, who play Hayley and Joss, respectively. The two are the current owners of the haunted hand, and they host parties where the teenagers play the possession game. Hayley and Joss possess the cocky confidence of the cool kids who gain school cred from their proximity to danger. They’re an amazing balance against the less daring Jade. Plus, when the circumstances grow more dire, their confidence crumples, and seeing two characters who used to be carefree devolve into anxiety heightens the horror.
This is a well-directed film with an inventive and compelling script, along with phenomenal actors. I’m moving on to spoilers now, so please go ahead and watch the film if you haven’t yet!
The film has lingered in my mind because, to me, it also functions as a tragedy. The relationship between the feeling of sorrow and the horror genre has deeply intrigued me. This idea is something I might have brought up in earlier conversations. Some of my favorite works of horror, including The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson and Hereditary directed by Ari Aster, are soaked in sadness. The same is true of Talk to Me. Even before supernatural events happen to her, Mia is haunted by the death of her mother. This loss isolates her, and she therefore becomes more vulnerable to the supernatural beings that emerge as the plot progresses.
At the party where Mia first goes under possession through the hand, she is compelled to do so because she overhears peers whispering hurtful things about her, calling her weird and a downer. Of course, her behavior is understandably the result of her grief, but the teenagers are still cruel and unempathetic, the way they can be at that age. After her first use of the hand, she wants to use it more and more.
This leads to the central crisis of the film. At a later party, Riley wants to use the hand himself. Jade refuses to let him, but when she leaves the room, Mia allows Riley to use the hand in an effort to endear herself to him, so important to her is her bond with him. The ritual is meant to be brief; otherwise, if the possession lasts for too long, the consequences can be dire.
When Riley performs the ritual, the spirit who possesses him claims to be Mia’s mom. In her desperate and futile attempt to find closure and healing, Mia allows the ritual to continue. Additional spirits possess Riley, causing him to brutalize himself. He is sent to the hospital, and whenever he wakes up, he attempts suicide.
In the midst of this tragedy, Mia is further isolated. Jade blames her for what happened to Riley. His and Jade’s mom (Miranda Otto) tells Mia to stay away from her family. As the teenagers try to figure out what to do, Jade tells Mia that she wishes Mia didn’t insert herself into her family.
In her compounded sorrow and loneliness, Mia continues to use the hand to communicate with the spirit that has taken on the appearance of her mother. One of the most heartbreaking scenes I have ever seen in a horror movie is from this one. There is a shot of Mia curled up in bend clutching the haunted hand while the ghost holds her. I shake right now just thinking about that.
The ghosts of the hand convince Mia that Riley has become the host of legions of spirits, who are torturing his soul. The only way to save him, according to the apparition appearing as her mother, is to kill him.
The final scenes of the film are gut-wrenching, as Mia, the life drained of her eyes, takes steps toward her grisly goal. She runs into Jade and Riley’s mother at the hospital, who forgives her and offers love. It’s too late, though. Mia is already lost.
At the film’s end, Mia dies when she is trying to kill Riley at the side of a highway. Whether she takes her own life or is pushed into traffic by Jade trying to save Riley is unclear. What is clear is that Riley recovers, and Mia is dead, her soul trapped in the haunted hand.
The way this film dramatically illustrates how grief can isolate someone from sources of support and leave them vulnerable to greater suffering pulls at my heart. Viewers of this film have seen the possession ritual as a metaphor for taking drugs that conjure altered states. This connection is clear through lines of dialogue and through how some of the rituals are filmed. On a purely metaphorical level, one can read this film as the story of a teenager whose grief causes her to lose her life to substance abuse. Even without this metaphorical layer, the film clearly depicts how the people around Mia don’t support her when she is at her most pained and vulnerable.
A whole year later, I still think about Mia’s horrible fate. I wonder if she could have been saved if her father, her friends, or even her peers or friends’ mother could have done something else. Or maybe, there was nothing anyone could have done. Maybe she was doomed ever since her mother died.
I don’t know, and this is one reason among many that Talk to Me haunts me even now. This is an amazing horror film.
Great insights, as always :) I love this film
Very detailed narration. Felt like I was experiencing the movie.