11/12 ForReel Score | 4.5/5 Stars

Assuming you've been on the internet for as long as I have, there's a chance you've seen one of Danny and Michael Philippou (otherwise known as RackaRacka)’s legendarily viral fight videos, like the horror-comedy classic “Ronald McDonald Playground Slaughter” or the superhero spoof “Marvel vs. DC”. Almost two years after Talk to Me, an unyieldingly grisly teen horror nightmare which prompted an all-out bidding war after its Sundance 2023 midnight premiere, the Philippou twins return with their latest skin-crawler, Bring Her Back. Starring Sally Hawkins in a career-defying turn as a deceptively charming foster mother with something to hide, Bring Her Back is a spine-chillingly vile downer that only proves that the RackaRacka twins are a bona fide dynamic duo to keep an eye on in the indie horror scene.

After the sudden death of their father, brother and sister Andy (Billy Barratt) and Piper (Sora Wong) are placed in the care of Laura (Hawkins), a grieving mother whose adopted son, Oliver (Jonah Wren Phillips), may or may not have some serious issues. Given the horror genre’s recent oversaturation with grief-oriented storytelling, I was quite worried about the themes of grief feeling trite or overbearing, as Talk to Me suffered from that quite a bit. Conversely, the Philippou’s use grief as a vehicle for the horror to unfold, rather than being the meat and potatoes of the text. Bring Her Back isn't so much about grief as it is about the destruction grief causes in the pursuit of catharsis, and the emotional decay that comes with holding on for too long.

As with Talk to Me, the twins upgrade their signature over-the-top sadism in ways so sickening that I couldn't help but convulse in my chair along with everyone else in the theater. RackaRacka leaves nothing off the table, opening doors for violence against any poor soul who may or may not deserve it, particularly younger characters. Calling Bring Her Back “fucked up” would only be a disservice to its nauseating depravity, which in turn bolsters the sinking feeling of desperation and malaise until all hell breaks loose in act three. The film gets so viscerally sickening at points that it’ll make the strongest gorehounds thankful to have all ten fingers, all ten toes, and all thirty-two teeth. It’s about as enjoyable as a closed-casket funeral, and has the overall atmosphere of a clogged drainpipe after a thunderstorm. And yet, I found it to be one of the most moving horror films I’ve watched in a long time.

The problem with many modern horror films, from “elevated horror” psychological explorations like It Comes at Night to hyperviolent gorefests like Terrifier, is that they become so focused on their respective gimmicks that they forget to craft strong characters and tell an emotionally gripping story. Conversely, Bring Her Back’s narrative is endlessly compelling without compromising on the scares or gore whatsoever. I found the film’s exploration of how trauma manifests itself within the mundane, even in things as simple as taking a shower, to be an excellent depiction of post-traumatic stress disorder and its effect on younger people. Trauma rooted that deep tends not to make sense to the outside observer, and when our fears are the most irrational parts of ourselves, it’s hard for anybody to understand what’s going on inside.

Not since Ari Aster’s Hereditary have I seen a horror film tackle uncomfortable family dynamics so well, with the family drama being just as unpleasant as all the blood and sinew. Like all good family dramas and all good horror films, Bring Her Back hinges on its impeccable cast reacting to each other and the environment around them. Billy Barratt is given a lot of the heavy lifting as the older brother with a chip on his shoulder, and he and Sally Hawkins go back and forth like they’re playing world-class tennis. The variables for the collision course of personalities are set up so early on that all you can do is watch them slowly unfold from slightly disconcerting mannerisms to outright carnage and bloodshed. As the tension builds between Andy and Laura, coupled with the disconcertingly intimidating presence of Oliver, it leads to a sense of danger lurking in every corner.

What I love about RackaRacka’s direction is how they tiptoe the razor’s edge of things being “too much”. Most filmmakers in their early days could get too excited to have a camera and a boatload of money, but RackaRacka have exhibited an immeasurable amount of restraint that only indicates the twins’ artistic maturity. They could’ve gone balls-to-the-wall in either this or Talk to Me, and they certainly have the means to do so (my heart breaks that they’re no longer signed on to direct the Street Fighter movie), but that directorial restraint goes a long way to make their films feel serious and impactful. While that’s not to say the Philippou’s don’t get the occasional stylish camera movement or image, their lack of excess in a genre so excess-heavy indicates that their priorities are set on storytelling and character above all else.

If you told thirteen-year-old me that the originators of the “FBI Open Up” meme would eventually make a horror film so maliciously twisted that it would prompt me to burst into tears in a multiplex bathroom, I probably would’ve stayed away from the horror genre forever. It’s rare for a horror film to have that type of effect on me, and it only speaks to RackaRacka’s prowess behind the typewriter and the camera. A thorough step up from their previous work in every conceivable way, Bring Her Back is a relentlessly bleak turbo-bummer that’ll make you want to take a piping-hot shower the second the credits roll. If the Philippou’s manage to outdo themselves again for their next film, then I’m afraid that I’ll need to pop a Xanax before even buying a ticket.

Movie Review: In "Bring Her Back", Danny and Michael Philippou Hit Their Stride By Pushing Audiences Outside Our Comfort Zones