Movie 38: We Are Still Here.

Starring: Barbara Crampton, Andrew Sensenig, Lisa Marie, Larry Fessenden, Monte Markham, Susan Gibney.

Director: Ted Geoghegan.

A better title might be "I am still here."  After a few days of not posting(mostly due to the release of Avengers:Age Of Ultron and the return of the regular TV season), I have returned to resume my god-appointed mission to see as many horror films in a year as I can, blogging all the way along at the cost of my soul and sanity.  I can't think of a movie with a more fitting title for my returning from hiatus.

I saw We Are Still Here a few months ago and rather enjoyed it, so we'll see how it holds up to a return visit.  I feel pretty confident it will hold up well.  It was filled with Lovecraftian (and a LOT of Stephen King) influence and ended up being an awful lot of fun.  Sort of a pastiche of a couple different themes and genres.  

Grief is a powerful emotion.  It's been used fairly frequently within the genre (The Changeling, The Babdook, most ghost stories, really...) as a framework to give protagonists more fragility and a sense of loss.  They say there is no grief greater than a Parent losing a child, and I have little doubt that's true and I'm not here to discuss which kind of grief is stronger than another, and We Are Still Here offers that up palpably.  The general premise: A pair of aging retirees move into a new house to help move on from the death of their college-aged son and find moving on is easier said than done.  

The film utilizes barren, wintry Maine (at the very least, it's definitely New England, but it looks a LOT like my home state's countryside in the winter)-long, rolling fields of white, snowy land with only a single bare tree to mark distance and old, spacious colonial homes-to encapsulate that feeling of alone-ness and desolation that comes with the loss of someone we love.  Barbara Crampton and Andrew Sensenig give great performances as two people who literally have nothing better to do than grieve.  We see them try to fill their time with chores, trips into town, and various drinks (a lot of drinks).  

It's not a joyless, mirthless film, however.  Like the wintry landscape, there is always the promise that things will eventually get better: spring does come eventually, and so will these two find some sort of solace.  As Anne begins to suspect her Son is hanging around as a Ghost, her Husband Paul has good-humored disbelief.  They can still smile at each other.  They can still laugh.  It's a nice thing to see: most movies show complete misery and little else.

Of course, eventually somebody has to come along and tell them the dark history of their house: in this case, the Undertaker who owned it had been accused of selling corpses to "The Orientals" (who, of course, were making them into chop-suey because, sure, buying human corpses is the cheapest source of random meat out there) and was run out...the couple are obviously squicked out, but not as much as we are by Monty Markham who clearly is up to no good and ends the encounter by reminding them, once the couple have stated the house the "Sacchetti" house, "It's still Dagmar's House."  Of course, Markham's insane seeming Wife hands them the requisite note to "get out" and it's ignored.

The movie finds its key plot when The Sacchetti's call up the Parents of their son's former roommate, the Lewis's, who are actually a lot of fun.  There's a nice contrast between the couples: The Sacchetti's are very conservative, and quiet, and The Lewis's are hippy spiritualists.  When May and Jacob arrive, Paul says "She's driving?!" and Anne says "It's Progressive, be good!"  

It's interesting: there's not a lot to really showcase it, but I just realized this movie might actually be taking place in the late Seventies or early Eighties.  Actually, now that I've made that connection I realize how obvious it actually is and I was just missing it due to my own assumptions it was modern.  The furniture and drapes, the clothing, the vehicles...it's easy to miss because, well, we're such a retro culture now.

The biggest hint of menace comes from the townsfolk who act notably suspicious when they see the two couples show up at the local bar.  Then, May and Jacob's son shows up with his pretty Girlfriend while the 'rents are out and things get nuts.  Poor kids don't last long.  Not to any fault of their own, though: The Girlfriend actually kind of makes all the right moves, she just didn't know her ghostly assailants (who look pretty good, by the way: big growling smoldering burn victim things) could leave the house.

Very Lovecraft/King in it's influences: A vague, monstrous darkness that wakes up every thirty years and, according to town king shit or whatever Monty Markham is(apparently his community allows him to just shoot people?  Even considering their dark secrets that seems like more than they should be tolerating.), will basically eat everyone in town if they don't receive a sacrifice of a family.  Seems to me that said darkness probably would still eat the town...since that's apparently what happened thirty years ago in the forties.  Well, the darkness didn't have a family to eat but...I mean, how much research has really been done into this? I mean, this would literally be the second time the darkness has awoke, right?  I dunno.  But it works as a premise.

There's a nice, non-hysterical seance sequence that works very naturally.  It hits the right dramatic notes without going over-the-top, well, not until it needs to anyway.  Jacob's harmless, somewhat-clueless attempts to contact the other side go mostly with a silly good-nature until his "It's not Bobby!" warning and pleas to be tied up.  It's a nice moment, as is the now-possessed Jacob swallowing his own gag.  The ensuing possession stuff is a bit cliched but well done: well shot, well paced and well acted.  Things don't really slow down at all once this occurs. 

I'm not sure I understand the logic of the angry mob entering the house and/or killing the denizens.  Wouldn't a smarter plan be a siege?  Keep them inside?  But if they did that the cool monsters wouldn't get a chance to eat the locals, which is pretty rad.

Actually, the last act is wonderfully chaotic and absurd.  The film-makers clearly realized that the quiet slow-build would be somewhat meaningless without a bang, so they went for it with complete reckless abandon and totally made it work.  Tons of gore and screaming and madness.

There's still a disconnect with the town leader and how the ghosts work.  Markham says he's grateful for the ghosts staying...but he's forced to help...and he orders the ghosts to kill...but there's no mention of what the town gets out of it.  Do they prosper?  Or just survive?  It doesn't quite work.  Makes for a satisfying death when the ghosts murder the shithee, though.  He does offer the point that the new couple are somehow special to the ghosts...maybe because of their grief, their sympathy, their love?  It's a little on-the-nose but it works well enough for me.

"Hey, Bobby."  It's a wonderful last line.  

Final Thoughts: There might be some disconnects in the plot and backstory, but in the end it doesn't really matter.  It's a well-mounted, well-performed little horror flick that, while touching upon a few issues of social and personal matters, mostly is fully aware of what it wants: crazy ass shit, cool monsters, sympathetic characters and bloody carnage.  It works.  Not every moment is gold, but enough of it is.

Final Rating: 3 and Half Stars.