THE BABADOOK
by Eric Lindbom
Five Out of Five Snakes
THE BABADOOK (in theaters) returns to scald audiences on September 19th on 500 movie screens 10 years after its initial release in but two theaters. Eventual word of mouth turned it into a sensation but many fans never got the chance to see it with a crowd.
Australian writer/director Jennifer Kent’s first feature is like an amalgam of a Grimm Fairy Tale and the corrosive, inner family warfare on display in Edward Albee’s WHO’S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF?
Bedraggled widow Amelia (an astonishing, go for broke Essie Davis) tries to calm her six-year old-son Sam (Noah Wiseman) who’s acting out in school. He’s obsessed with Mister Babadook a devilishly sadistic top-hat wearing character from a pop-up book. He believes the character exists and blames it for a series of eerie occurrences on the home front like the gnarly hunks of glass that turn up in his mother’s food.
Is the fiend responsible or Sam? Or what about Amelia whose husband was killed on the way to the hospital to deliver their son assuring her a whale of a case of post-partum depression that she may have repressed for years?
Besides Kent’s creation of a memorable monster, it’s the utter intensity of Amelia’s downward spiral into madness that turns THE BABADOOK into such a harrowing, unforgettable experience.
A parent turning into a monster inevitably draws comparisons to THE SHINING but here’s a minority opinion. Before you poke my eyes out with pitchforks, yes, Stanley Kubrick’s unparalleled visual brilliance, eye popping set pieces and icy reserve encourages and rewards multiple re-watches. However, on a purely emotional level THE BABADOOK is more effective only because (as Stephen King pointed out), Jack Nicholson’s Jack Torrance appears to be circling the sanity drain from the first reel while Davis’ Amelia disintegrates with the incremental drip, drip, drip of a leaky faucet. While Torrance’s “Here’s Johnny” line brings applause and giddiness, no one is laughing when Amelia turns the corner and tells her food-deprived son “if you’re that hungry, why don’t you go and eat shit?”
What is it about Australian filmmakers who live in a sun dappled country with wide open frontiers that causes them to churn out say their versions of westerns (like John Hillcoat’s THE PROPOSITION written by Nick Cave) that are far bloodier and rougher than ours? In Jennifer Kent’s case, she followed up THE BABADOOK with THE NIGHTINGALE, a 19th Century, rape revenge drama that examined Colonial racism against Tasmania’s aboriginals that’s so grueling even strong stomached filmgoers fled the theater scarred if not livid.
Today, THE BABADOOK is hailed as a pioneering work in the era of so-called ‘elevated horror.’ The term, beloved by critics, denotes scary works, supernatural or not, that usually deal with mature themes, take a slow burn route and ratchet up tension before stunning often divisive finales. Elevated horror has proved a fertile route for shrewd indie filmmakers to make a name for themselves with smart scripts and inspired direction vs. taking a slumming approach to the genre. Using horror as a metaphor to examine larger social issues, these creators have found a work around to be heard in an era when Hollywood bean counters sign off on little more than regurgitated IP franchise fodder.
Less jump scare, spook house rides than lingering nightmares, elevated horror works are often serious in tone with low body counts and are hardly indebted to fan service tropes. Some gorehounds scoff at the genre as ‘horror for those who don’t like real horror.’ Still, it’s hard to argue with imaginative, disturbing examples like THE LODGE, THE WITCH, HEREDITARY, MIDSOMMAR and even adjacent titles like THE LIGHTHOUSE and MOTHER. Among such rarified company, THE BABADOOK holds an exalted position.’
If you’re among the crowd that somehow finds Roman Polanski’s ROSEMARY’S BABY (arguably the first elevated horror film) boring, take my rave of this intentionally claustrophobic work lightly. Not an easy sit, THE BABADOOK is instead an uneasy achievement for brave viewers.
Eric Lindbom is a hardcore horror buff with a strong stomach, weaned on the Universal classics from the ’30s and ’40s. He’s written film and/or music reviews for City Pages, Twin Cities Reader, LA WEEKLY, Request magazine and Netflix. He co-edits triggerwarningshortfiction.com, a site specializing in horror, fantasy and crime short stories with illustrations by co-editor John Skewes. He lives in Los Angeles.
