In the spirit of Octoberween, I'd like to spotlight a movie that features the scariest subject I could think of:
As soon as she figures out how to upload this embarrassing photo of you to Facebook, you're screwed. (Photo courtesy of Tiago Camargo)
Old people.
Naaahhh, that was a really cheap joke. I just wanted to use this adorable picture. Elderly folks shouldn't be treated as inherently frightening, but there are certain aspects of growing old that can rattle us at any age. The Taking of Deborah Logan capitalizes on these realities of aging and by doing so creates an innovative (and deeply unsettling) horror film experience. This movie delivers stellar female characters, realistic reactions to alarming situations, and one of the most terrifying shots I have ever seen in a horror movie.
"The Taking of Deborah Logan" movie poster
The movie follows a documentary team as they film the titular Deborah Logan's experience of Alzheimer's disease. This in itself is scary enough, as anyone who has seen a sufferer or is a sufferer themselves of the disease will recognize the symptoms as they're documented and discussed by the characters. The opening act of Deborah Logan explores the disease and the damage it deals not only to Deborah but to her daughter, Sarah, who is tasked with caring for her mother and preventing the house from being repossessed. The actresses who portray these characters really sell the struggle between mother and daughter with authentic emotion. My one critique of this pair is the (unconscious?) reliance on lesbian stereotypes for Sarah, but I might be picking up on that because my own queerness makes me privy to all the gay jokes.
Not pictured: her talking about a UHaul, her boyish childhood room, and her bickering about her masculine style of clothing with her mother. Give her a pet pitbull and you've got a home run. I can say this stuff because I'm gay.
Many of the early scares can be attributed to mental deterioration caused by Alzheimer's, and it truly hurts to watch Deborah lose pieces of her brilliant self as her condition worsens. Of course, the disease is pinned for some of the semi-supernatural phenomena the documentary team catches on film. As the disease ramps up and the incidents get increasingly bizarre, it becomes clear to the characters (and the audience) that there is something spookier afoot. In fact, for the first time in any horror flick I can remember, a main character decides to bail rather than continue meddling with the unholy entity that's interfering with their film-making.
If you haven't caught on, I'm not good at screenshots.
Body horror plays a big role throughout the film, which fits with the theme of fearing the things that happen naturally to our bodies over time. If you're squeamish about gore, you won't be writhing on the floor by the time the credits role, but you'll certainly get nervous about scratching an itch too hard for the next... I don't know, possibly century.
You never know when your skin is just gonna peel off like cellophane from the top of yesterday's tuna casserole.
And OH BOY those gross-outs near the end. The genre seems to shift from psychological horror with some supernatural mystery to what's essentially a monster hunt. I don't want to spoil too much because I want you to experience the revelations for yourself, but I do want to praise the finale.
By the time it's established that the possessed Deborah is definitely up to no good and is on the run with an abducted child, the only people who are left to pursue and stop her are a female police officer, Sarah, and the primary member of the film crew, Mia. A horror movie with an all-lady final confrontation. I could just pee myself.
But I won't, because I already peed myself during that final confrontation. As a found-footage film, Deborah Logan does have some shaky, frustrating shots toward the conclusion, which takes place in a tight, low-light location. It's a dizzying few minutes of shuffling and shouting through a narrow cave system, and I fear some of the intensity is lost in wild shots and cluttered voices. However, the scene is redeemed by a chilling, unexpected visual that will recur in my nightmares for decades.
*Spongebob voice* I don't need it. I DON'T NEED IT.
Really, it was worth it. This film freshened up the found-footage style for me. The characters were actual people (lesbian stereotypes aside) and I was concerned for them. Jill Larson nails the complicated role of Deborah and manages to make me sympathize with her and fear her. Eternally. I mean, my gawd. Altogether, this movie was deliciously frightening, notable more for the reality-based attributes (Alzheimer's, interesting characters) than the supernatural ones (the mythology was useful to the plot, but was nothing groundbreaking, and that's just fine).
Put this on your Halloween to-watch list. It's currently on Netflix, so hop to it. If spooky isn't your thing but you still want to support me because you love me or feel obligated or what have you, not to worry. I intend to review other movies, books, or shows in the future. Someday, I might even come up with a regular schedule for posting reviews, blog entries, and prompts. Someday.
In the meantime, snuggle up with your loved ones and a crucifix to watch the most unusual possession movie I've encountered to date.