I think I ground down a couple of teeth in my attempts to keep out The Babadook. But, as you’ll all soon learn… you can’t get rid of The Babadook.
It is a rare horror film that succeeds with its ideas as fully as it succeeds in its scares. Australian horror film The Babadook not only weighs those often competing priorities equally, but knocks them both out of the park.
The core of the success of the dramatic elements come directly from the deft screenplay and direction from writer/director Jennifer Kent, paired with the lead performance from Essie Davis as Amelia, which is amongst the most stunning and complex performances in horror cinema history. Amelia is trying to raise her young son Sam (Noah Wiseman) amidst a number of perfectly layered challenges to their day to day lives. Sam has significant behavioral issues, and there is tragedy in their past involving Sam’s father which neither of them have healed from. Scene after scene piles on the mundane struggles that Amelia is dealing with in such a way that we can’t help but empathize with her, as well as become increasingly tense. Our journey with Sam, who is wonderfully portrayed by child actor Wiseman (even opposite Davis’ all-timer performance) is more complicated. Sam can be annoying; he’s often the source of his mothers’ stress. His behavioral problems throughout the film seem to increase exponentially. The bond between mother and son feels as real as any I’ve ever seen in a horror film. These two feel like they deeply love and rely on one another, but the tension between them is palpable. And keep in mind, Sam is a 6 year old. By the climax of the film, their bond was so potent that I found myself in tears amidst my mounting terror.
Speaking of terror, the film succeeds wildly as a horror film in a number of ways. The Babadook creature is introduced to the narrative through a mysterious pop-up book that Sam pulls off the bookshelf one night at story time. The creature’s aesthetic remains influenced by pop-up book artwork, but his iconic “movie monster” look is terrifying and creatively realized. You can’t quite pin down The Babadook, but his top hat and spiky fingers always seem present, and his movements and vocalizations made my blood curdle. “Baba Dook Dook Dook”. He first appears in visions to Sam as he creeps like an infection into their lives, then eventually Amelia starts to experience him as well. All of Amelia’s outside connections are slowly stripped away by the mounting neediness and instability of her life until ultimately Sam and Amelia are cooped up alone in their house, terribly sleep deprived and increasingly haunted by the knocking, creaking, stalking Babadook.
There’s a lot of talk about “strong female characters” in cinema these days. With movies like Lucy and The Hunger Games signaling a potential new era for female led action vehicles that thrive at the box office, Hollywood wants to capitalize on what it perceives as a trend, yet often seems to get the whole thing wrong. Often female characters end up objectified, stuffed into over-sexualized costumes, or repeatedly taking supporting roles in otherwise male-dominated stories. The Babadook is a film written and directed by a woman, and starring a remarkably complex strong female character who isn’t oversexualized or playing second fiddle. Amelia is front and center, and is pushed to the limits; sometimes cracking. But even in the most terrifying moments or under relentless pressures from work to family to the supernatural, her resourcefulness and commitment to her child are powerful and steadfast. And Sam rises to the occasion as well, when Amelia is at her lowest. The aforementioned final confrontation between Amelia, Sam, and The Babadook was visually spectacular, terrifying, and emotionally resonant. Jennifer Kent and Essie Davis have crafted a legitimate strong female character in Amelia that stands among the great horror performances.
With an expert sense of tension building and dread, The Babadook tells a unique, visually inventive ghost/possession/dream monster story with such a relatable human core that I will be simultaneously haunted by the imagery and processing through the ideas it deftly explores for weeks to come. Amelia’s resentment and even occasional bouts of hopelessness towards Sam, that tension between endlessly loving a child but needing space to have your own personal life, is meaningfully explored here. Certainly anyone willing to engage thoughtfully and honestly about child rearing will resonate with the themes of resentment versus commitment found here. And Amelia’s strength is proven as she pushes against that resentment and tries like mad to choose love over hopelessness. Sam’s future and the fate of The Babadook all have to do with how much Amelia will sacrifice to protect her home and her family.
I’ve focused much of this review on the film’s meaning and character work, and rightly so because it sets this film a cut above most horror cinema. But it can’t be ignored that the mounting terror of The Babadook was not for the faint of heart. I was physically and emotionally exhausted by The Babadook after having cowered for most of the run time. Not since The Orphanage have I experienced such beauty and profundity mixed with such terror.
And I’m Out.
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