Notable Cast: Rebecca Hall, Tim Roth, Grace Kaufman,
Michael Esper, Angela Wong Carbone
At this point, is there any performer in cinema that
exemplifies the horrors of trauma seeping to the surface of one’s cracking
psyche like Rebecca Hall? It was only last year that Hall partnered up with
horror maestro David Bruckner for the supernatural holds of depression and
ripples of suicide in The Night House. That was a film that lingered
with me for months afterward in a way that tickled the membrane under my
skin.
When Resurrection was announced, bringing Hall back
to tackle another round about the effects of a problematic relationship that
unravels in the wake of its demise, naturally, the film was immediately put
onto the viewing queue. You should too. Resurrection, despite its
bland title and an overall synopsis that feels more mundane than it is, marks
another descent into a psychological terror that is worthy of discussion and
dissection. A blend of classic themes around “are they are they not insane”
with sharp writing that benefits the strength of its cast, Resurrection
is a film seething in its own frames and will leave its audience doing the
same.
It is difficult to not simply give Rebecca Hall all of the
credit for the success of Resurrection. As noted above, she’s the kind
of acting powerhouse that all atmospheric and character-driven genre cinema
aims to use. Naturally, she gets to strut out the award-winning moments in the
film, including whiplash-inducing changes of emotional presence in the more
tense and horrific moments, but it’s her ability to showcase the “work” that
people do in holding back those kinds of emotional outbursts that defines what Resurrection
is doing on a character and thematic level.
When the film eventually adds in Tim Roth, a dynamic and
enigmatic actor in his own right, as the film’s main antagonist, Resurrection
is able to give Hall a screen presence and effective counter to build on her
own work.
One monologue, delivered in a staggering one-take moment
that never leaves Hall’s face, exposits all of the information necessary for
the rest of the film to work. It is the kind of clip shown at the Oscars
telecast. She is not only able to navigate the complexity of her character, but
she is able to embody all the themes in a way that never feels expository or
self-indulgent. It’s the kind of work that uplift the quality of an entire
film.
Naturally, there is a strong script underneath it all too.
An artistic hand from writer/director Andrew Semans creates a meticulous
narrative and tone that Hall can feed into both thematically and stylistically.
Resurrection is a film that is a slave to its own details, even when
intentionally left vague or up for interpretation by its audience, and it’s
impactful in its small moments. The questions it asks around control, or the
loss of it, regarding trauma, love, and family are often left lingering in the
air and it will either frustrate the living hell out of the viewer or delight
them. As the film increasingly becomes more extreme in its manic paranoia
eventually leading to a shock-to-the-system finale, I found myself delighting
in its often-horrifying questions in a way that left me unnerved. This is the
kind of postmodern punch that horror is brilliantly effective at
delivering.
Resurrection is one of those atmospheric and darkly
dramatic films that plays in the horror landscape but will be far more divisive
than it should be due to its heavy pacing and loose narrative that toys with
the audience as much as it does with Hall’s protagonist. It’s intentional
vagueness in its themes and character beats, which leaves a lot of questions by
the time the credits roll, is distinctive in its flavor and it’s not one that
more casual viewers may find as deliciously anxious as I did. However, Resurrection
is not to be missed for its incredible performances and a final act that goes
admirably off the rails without losing sight of its purpose.
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