Talking a Big Game
Australian twins the Brothers Philippou channel more than spirits in their imperfect but watchable debut.
Talk to Me
Director: Danny Philippou, Michael Philippou • Writers: Danny Philippou, Bill Hinzman
Starring: Sophie Wilde, Alexandra Jensen, Joe Bird, Miranda Otto, Zoe Terakes, Ari McCarthy, Marcus Johnson
Australia • 1hr 35mins
Opens Hong Kong September 14 • IIB
Grade: B-
Mia (Sophie Wilde) is a needy, slightly unpopular teenager, living with her bestie Jade (Alexandra Jensen), Jade’s little brother Riley (Joe Bird), and their mother Sue (Eowyn herself, Miranda Otto stealing every scene as the protective, way wiser than she’s given credit for mother) because life with her dad Max (Marcus Johnson) has become insufferable in the wake of her mother Rhea’s (Alexandria Steffensen) suicide. She’s demanding of Jade’s time, and possibly muscling in on her boyfriend Daniel (Otis Dhanji), who she also dated once. When Jade pushes back, Mia pulls the dead mother card.
Thus begins Talk to Me, yet another horror thriller about a kid who can’t seem to get over their grief about a dead parent (or other relative) and who subjects everyone around them to their occasionally hideous behaviour. This is not to say grief is bad or wrong or unjustified. It’s also not to say films that explore this grief via genre conventions are bad or wrong or unjustified. But can we please, please, please have something else to explore through these genres some time soon? Hereditary, Men, The Flash, Relic, The Night House, every Spider-Man movie ever… It’s kind of a lot, and it’s getting wearisome. Talk to Me has the stink (not a bad thing) of Jennifer Kent’s The Babadook (another one!) all over it, but YouTube creators (RackaRacka) and first time directors Danny and Michael Philippou don’t quite have Kent’s clarity of purpose or confident POV to match their lofty ambitions. They have quite a bit, and a ton of energy, but they too often get lost in their own maze, as if they were giddy kids in a candy store.
That’s just nasty
Talk to Me actually begins with a frantic oner, with the clearly squirrelly Duckett (Sunny Johnson) locked in a bedroom at a rager of a house party. His brother Cole (Ari McCarthy) races through the house looking for him, and when he finally finds him, they appear to be on the way out, all in front of an ocean of phones. But Duckett suddenly pulls up and unleashes some violence in spectacular fashion, again for the phones. It’s then we meet Mia and Jade as they makes plans to sneak out and hit yet another rager (evidently the Australian suburbs are maggoty with raging house parties), even though no one wants Mia, drag that she is, there: it’s the second anniversary of her mom’s death and she makes sure everyone knows it. But the life of the party is not sex, drugs and loud music (ah, the good old days) but a petrified hand that summons spirits when someone grabs it and utters a very simple combo of “Talk to me” and “I let you in”. Classic dumb teen move, and one of the film’s more interesting thematic threads; it’s treated like the latest party drug. Mia loves the rush and soon she, Jade and hosts Joss and Hayley (Chris Alosio and Zoe Terakes) are doing it again. When little Riley gets the attention of a malevolent spirit shit goes sideways.
Talk to Me is a classic example of gung-ho directors armed with a sky-high concept (co-written by Bill Hinzman), a stellar opening frame and an ingenious finish – and no idea what to do with the concept between those ends. A huge chunk of the second act (in a 90-minute movie) is spent, quite laboriously, watching Mia commune with the spirit of her mother. But… those who hold The Hand don’t get to choose the spirits, right? It’s not a telephone to the afterlife. The spirits can only “possess” The Hand holder, right? So how is it they start jumping into other bodies willy-nilly (okay, just one, but still)? After a great start and some believable, imperfect, bored characters, Talk to Me loses track of its own mythology and starts improvising. That just makes things confusing and saps any sympathy we may have found for Mia.
That said, to make up for the illogic the Philippous work hard to build a persistent sense of unease and an atmosphere where gnarly violence can erupt on a dime – all ready to be Instagrammed – and there’s no denying they do that briliantly, all whip pans and hallucinogenic, garbled memories bathed in hard primary colours. Even then, by the time the Philippous right the ship and get back on track to a great finale, Talk to Me has gone too far off the rails to head back towards greatness. It’s solid, really good in parts, but not consistently so. But, and this is a huge but, there’s a dollop of early, anarchic Sam Raimi in here, and that bodes well for the Philippous down the road. Here’s to them finding their Dead By Dawn. — DEK