It Follows
(2015)
(SPOILERS) David Robert Mitchell’s
unstoppable horror has received rounded acclaim, even embedding itself in Sight
and Sound’s hallowed Top 20 of 2015 list. It’s certainly an effective, confidently-directed
latest incarnation of the relentless boogeyman, heavily indebted to John
Carpenter (complete with retro-synth score from Disasterpeace) but also bringing its own psychosexual
component (a bit like Cronenberg but shorn of the grue). In other words, it’s
no wonder Kim Newman loved It Follows.
To the extent that there’s nothing new
under the sun, I’m not entirely sure the kudos heaped on the picture in terms
of its exploration of sex and death are entirely deserved, however. It Follows is essentially raking over
coals. But Mitchell is so sure of himself in technique and execution, taking a
leaf out of Carpenter’s aforementioned book with his widescreen lensing and long
lingering set ups (of empty Detroit suburbs), allowing the space itself to
become threatening in its own sweet time, usually when “It” idles into frame,
or merely through someone looking for “It” to no avail, that it’s almost
impossible not to be won over.
The world Mitchell envisages is hermetic,
isolated and claustrophobic, even when its protagonist Jay (Maika Monroe,
following last year’s acclaimed genre effort The Guest, which was also indebted to ‘70s/ ‘80s cinema and synths)
isn’t stuck in a room without an easy exit. It’s the knowing exteriors that
most evoke the dream logic Mitchell’s aiming for, though, where it’s impossible
to evade your pursuer no matter how far you run. As Newman notes in his review,
It Follows is curiously absent of
adults, adding to the cumulative sense of divorce from anything approaching a
normative environment.
While much of the attention has focussed on
the means by which It gathers victims, apparently this notion came later in
Mitchell’s conception of the picture. It’s a classic horror trope, of course;
teenagers having sex spells death, so embodying that force has a certain
inspired literalness to it. With that inevitably come readings regarding STDs
and AIDS (“Someone gave it to me, and I
passed it on to you…”) complete with the fear of a faceless virus that
exists anywhere and everywhere (“It can
look like anyone, but there’s only one of it”). Then there are the
post-infection consequences belying the truth (“I don’t feel any different”, comments Paul) And eventually, no
matter what precautions you take to survive (by fucking as much as possible,
the ultimate act of feeling alive) it will encroach on you again. All potently
familiar, then, but it’s in the execution that Mitchell makes an impact.
And much of what really works here is also about
the observation of character, as opposed to the mechanics of the monster or why
the cast haven’t watched Scream and
its sequels, so continue to do really stupid things despite having clear rules
to obey (that should be a relief in a way, although those who claimed Scream was going to change the horror
map forever were mostly writing puff pieces rather than devout believers).
Mitchell makes some interesting choices
that break with the expected for such fare, some of which work and some of
which are less successful. As so often happens, Jay tells others of her waking
nightmare, and they either don’t believe her or tell her not to worry. More
surprising is that It ends up manifesting to her friends, who then no longer
doubt her delusions. On one level, this is a bold move; now the isolated teen
has friends rallying around and attempting to defend her. On another, the rules
by which this wraith operates no longer seem quite so comprehensible or
overpowering, leading to an over-stoked climax that doesn’t make much sense in
either the planning our outcome (this may be why no one actually discusses the
plan aloud; Mitchell knows it isn’t much cop, but he can’t come up with
anything better).
But the means by which archetypes are
highlighted in interesting new ways is striking. There’s pretty Jay (Gwen
Stefani-pretty; Monroe, who gives a mesmerising performance, gets that a lot)
who will have no trouble finding a guy to pass It on to. Says Jake Weary’s
Hugh, the guy who impregnates her with “It”, then drugs her and ties her up so
she can have a really close look at her ardent pursuer; one wonders how long he
spent figuring out this modus operandi. Like the classic one-night stand guy,
Hugh is only interested in his own satisfaction (she should sleep with someone
as soon as possible, as “If it kills you,
it will come for me, you understand?”)
Platonic nerd childhood best friend Paul
(Keir Gilchrist) nurses an eternal flame for Jay, and is more than prepared to be
pursued to the death if it means he can have sex with the object of his desire,
but Jay is interested in handsome Greg (Daniel Zovatto), whom Jay’s sister
Kelly (Lili Sepe) fancies. There’s also Yara (Olivia Luccardi), focussed on her
clamshell reader and seemingly not especially into anyone, so she may well
survive longest post-credits.
Jay’s congress with first Greg and then
Paul is less about passing the buck than seeking some kind of protection, but
she is nevertheless knowing about what she is doing, just less ruthlessly so
than Hugh. The closing sight of her and Paul walking hand-in-hand, having
trapped herself with someone she isn’t attracted to for the sake of peace of
mind, is revealed as a slow death itself (curiously both are wearing black and
white in the last scene); inevitably the struggle and cycle to feel alive will
have to begin again.
I liked the early scenes where Jay and her
gang decide to track down Hugh; it makes for a refreshingly pro-active
approach, one that is abandoned once the need for characters (Greg) to disbelieve
resurfaces. But the rules at points feel a little Gremlins for a picture taking itself so seriously; an interesting
moment comes when it appears Jay will swim out to a boat and have a threesome
with the men on board, but clearly she decides against it (unless It made short
work of them). Yet such conjecture raises the prospect of mockery, like that scene
in Gremlins 2; does this thing really
just walk everywhere? What if you hop on a plane and travel to the other side
of the world? Will you have respite for several years (or will It hop on a
plane too?)
And, while It’s revealing itself as
interactive with those uninfected makes for an original twist, it doesn’t
entirely make sense. Earlier we see the thing seemingly not interacting with others (in corridors, in the Jay’s house in
the form of a giant), but now It’s visible in its actions, can punch Paul and
have a rug thrown over it. Most bizarrely, it seems it can be shot.
Maybe this is Mitchell referencing the
unstoppable Carpenter “Shape”, such that it will inevitably resurface in the
final reel, but there’s a lot of difference between starting with something
supernatural and Carpenter finishing with the intimation that something may be. I wondered too at the different
approach the thing took; the attack on Greg made most sense in terms of the
kind of creature this is, an incubus/succubus that feeds on sexual activity,
and which will suck the life essence from you (most queasily while appearing as
Greg’s mother; "It looks like people you love, just to hurt you"). But this contrasts with the more typical “crazy” monster that
snaps the leg of the first victim we see backwards, or starts throwing stuff around
a swimming pool.
Inevitably, there’s talk of a sequel, in
which Jay traces the source of the curse, and Mitchell who is “personally not that interested in where it
comes from” is also open to the possibility. I tend to think he’s better treating It Follows as a one-off; once you start
unravelling or deducing, 9 times out 10 you diminish the mythology. And you
also run the risk of making it seem like just another movie series. Perhaps It will become a one-off anthology
series come the second sequel, before reverting to increasingly pedestrian follow-ups
with the third.
