No-one seems to be entirely sure whether the actress and film-maker Emily Mortimer is British or American or some combination of the two (I always thought she was one of ours), but what is undeniable is that she had a pretty good career in progress back, as they say, in the day: nice parts in films as diverse as Harry Brown, 51st State, Bright Young Things, and Hugo. That said, she was never what you’d call a properly big star and so I didn’t really notice when she essentially dropped off my radar quite some years back – the last thing I saw her in, I think, was The Sense of an Ending, back in 2017.
It turns out Mortimer has made a sensible career move behind the camera, to some extent, writing and directing for movies and TV, though she still does the occasional movie job. This came to my attention recently when I stumbled upon Natalie Erika James’ Relic, from 2020 – not to be confused with Peter Hyams’ The Relic from 1997. Some confusion may be on the cards as they’re both technically horror films, but while The Relic is fairly dumb, fairly derivative action horror, Relic is much more measured and thoughtful.
Robyn Nevin plays Edna, an elderly widow living alone in (one assumes) southern Australia, off in the countryside somewhere remote. Her daughter Kay (Mortimer) and granddaughter Sam (Bella Heathcote) don’t see her very much; Edna’s slightly strained relationship with Kay is paralleled by Kay’s own struggle to connect with Sam (this sort of familial echoing is a minor theme of the movie). The movie opens with Kay getting a call from the police in Edna’s town, reporting that her mother seems to have disappeared – naturally she goes up there to see what’s happening.
And, from a certain point of view, the answer is ‘not very much’. This isn’t a movie of big set pieces or constant incident, ‘slow burn’ is almost certainly the best way to describe it. There’s a slow incremental drip of disquieting detail as the story progresses – black mould has established itself upstairs in the house, Kay begins to have nightmares about what she finds in a derelict shack on the property, a teenager from a neighbouring house reports he was ordered by his father not to go anywhere near the place any more. A very heavy and brooding atmosphere is gradually established, and this is before Edna makes an equally mysterious reappearance, wondering what all the fuss is about.
There is certainly some evidence that Edna is showing signs of senile dementia, and Kay begins the process of looking for a care facility for her in Melbourne, where she lives; Edna is firmly against this. Further complicating the situation is Sam’s suggestion that she moves in to care for Edna, rather to Kay’s annoyance – Sam seems to be drifting through her life, another source of friction between them. But Edna’s increasingly erratic behaviour makes it seem as though this isn’t a possibility – she has returned with an odd black bruise on her body, and keeps talking about something having broken into the house. It’s just the dementia talking – isn’t it…?
All horror movies are arguably to some extent metaphorical, relying on the existence of primal universal fears for their effectiveness. Some of those fears are more fanciful and abstract than others, of course. Recently we’ve seen a rise in the number of horror movies where the metaphor largely takes the place of the actual plot, with Alex Garland’s Men a notable example; unless you’re interpreting the film wholly symbolically, it doesn’t make a great deal of sense. Relic comes very close to crossing this line before the end, which in its own way is an impressive achievement for a film which starts off seeming a bit like a underplayed post-horror exercise in creeping unease.
Part of what makes Relic a disturbing and often uncomfortable film to watch is that the primal fears it is dealing with are not abstract or outlandish ones – being eaten by cannibals, for instance – but ones which could strike very close to home for many members of the audience. The film is absolutely about the fear of ageing, and the process of watching your own parents deteriorate to the point where they become unrecognisable to you (and you to them). Coupled to this is the brute fact that whatever happens to them may well lie in store for you, too.
The film is very upfront about the fact that, as a supernatural horror movie, it’s about the dark, corrosive presence that has taken up residence in the house (and within Edna herself), appearing in visual terms as the creeping black mould. But it’s also equally clear about the fact that the unwelcome visitor is dementia itself, given physical and spiritual form. For this reason I can readily imagine many gorehounds who’d be perfectly okay with Savini-esque gore and dismemberment finding themselves squirming their way through Relic quite uncomfortably.
The idea is smartly and inventively expressed, with the visual symbolism of the corrupting mould a particularly clever touch – spreading almost imperceptibly, gradually destroying whatever it touches, whether that be furniture, the structure of the house, or Edna’s personality. Naturally, it also lends itself to some rather gruesome moments come the climax of the film. There’s also an imaginative sequence where the interior of the house becomes a baffling, chaotic labyrinth, almost as if Edna’s perceptions have become contagious and are afflicting the others.
It’s a very well put together movie (possibly not quite the low-budget project you might expect – amongst the producers are Jake Gyllenhaal and the Russo brothers, who can presumably raise quite good money if they wish to) with excellent performances from the three leads. And yet I’d really struggle to describe it as a film that I genuinely enjoyed – it’s genuinely quite uncomfortable to watch in a way that more fantastical horrors usually aren’t. Its roots in reality, and its concern with the ageing process and infirmity, strike too close to home for it to be conventionally entertaining. But this is precisely because it is such a powerful, affecting and well-made film.
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