|
Immigration has always been a rich, dramatic subject for cinema, especially with continual debates about borders and undocumented immigrants, mixed with reactionary paranoia of population displacement and "white genocide." African diaspora cinema, in particular, has seen the release of several critically acclaimed and fascinating films along these lines, from classics such as Ousmane Sembene's Black Girl (1966) and Djibril Diop Mambety's Touki-Bouki (1973) to contemporary films like Mati Diop's Atalntics (2019) to Ekwa Msangi Farewell Amor (2020). One film, in particular, stands out from the rest for its impressive style and utilization of horror to comment on the immigration experience. That film, the exquisite Remi Weekes' debut feature His House, stands as one of the best films, horror or otherwise, from 2020.  The story of His House concerns a young immigrant couple trying to live within the UK after evading war in South Sudan. They have sacrificed much to get there, only to be met by indifferent and cold bureaucracy from primarily white overseers. They are moved into a large but intrinsically damaged home and told to behave themselves as much as possible to become citizens eventually. Bol (Sope Dirisu) begins to try and make a home for his wife and himself by repairing the house, only to discover something supernatural possibly living with them. Rial (Wunmi Mosaku), Bol's wife, believes they have been haunted by a witch who demands flesh as repayment for theft. Tensions rise as their experiences with these spirits, and increasing scrutiny from the immigration office threaten their marriage, citizenship, and lives. To reveal more is to spoil genuine shocking occurrences and events worth the price of admission alone, and I will not spoil them here. Remi Weekes displays an incredible sense of theme, style, and narrative in his directorial debut. The level of expressiveness within specific fantastical sequences is unparalleled in recent memory, particularly in depicting such haunting and evocative imagery within the confines of a limited budget. Of particular note are numerous nightmare sequences where we find Bol stranded amongst the flotsam and jetsam of an endless ocean, with only corpses of his fellow immigrants keeping him company. In this way, the film makes the case where Bol suffers from intense survivor's guilt mixed in with incredible PTSD, which further characterizes his motivation throughout the film.  His House depicts the immigration process alongside the African diaspora through the aesthetic lens of horror. It showcases the banal inhumanity of the immigration process and the less than adequate circumstances which await immigrants. Pollution surrounds the house before we even enter. The door breaks down, trash and abandoned food from prior tenets is abundant, it has faulty wiring, bugs are innumerable, and beneath the wallpaper are holes indicating rot. They know that the housing is subpar and deserve better than this, but they are told it is a good deal because their house "is bigger than mine" by their officer played by Matt Smith. All these exchanges and the many UK set scenes are shown through a pale, bleak color palette emphasizing the cold culture the couple has been placed in. Jo Willems' cinematography further adds contrast to the colder colors of the UK are the golden colors of South Sudan which we see in occasional flashbacks, which are likewise contrasted with highly stylized nightmare sequences. Expressive colors, primarily reds and blues, are used within these fantastical sequences to evoke the characters' inner state. Shot compositions are used particularly well throughout the film to show the character’s emotions throughout many sequences. The protagonists are framed within the same shot indicating their solidarity. However, when they are in disagreement, shots become tighter during key sequences, the couple separated through Julia Bloch's editing. In one particularly inspired sequence, we see shot compositions and editing where they begin together but by the end are separated, neither occupying shots with the other only connected by edits indicating their sudden distance from each other.  Further complimenting the beautiful aesthetics of the film are the lead performances. Sope Dirisu and Wunmi Mosaku give outstanding performances that showcase incredible depth and understanding for their characters. Whereas Dirisu performs flashy, dramatic acting through his encounters with the film's supernatural horror, Mosaku showcases many small intimate moments that indicate an immense depth of her skill as an actress. Their chemistry is strong, making us believe that they are a deeply devoted couple and that they have shared in immense, innumerable traumas that have strengthened their bond. For all of the film's complexities and formalism, their performances make the film work.  One of the film's key features is its depiction of how isolated the couple is from the rest of the community, even along racial lines. In a fit of confusion, Rial sees three black youths playing among themselves and asks them for directions. Rather than aiding her, they mock her otherness, making fun of her accent and telling her to "go back to Africa." When Bol goes to a store, a security guard follows him just out of sight. He never notices the guard following him, but we see him through strong cinematography blocking. The authority figures of the community scrutinize their every move and distrust them for the simple act of being other. These instances showcase unambiguously that the UK, much like America, is intensely distrustful of its immigrant populations. Another key theme at work within this text is assimilation vs. acceptance. Bol wants assimilation, to become British, to forgo his culture to attain this goal. In contrast, Rial wishes to maintain connection to her culture and acceptance of said culture from her new community. These divergent goals create the earliest dramatic tension of the film as we understand each character's logic and reasoning. Bol believes assimilation will cause them the least amount of trouble, whereas Rial believes assimilation will not do enough, as they will still be othered by their neighbors and peers. This debate between these two end goals is explored thoroughly throughout the film while portraying neither side as perfect.  Remi Weekes has made a worthy addition to the canon of African diaspora cinema. His House is a thoughtfully told, superbly crafted horror film that mixes supernatural and banal horrors with great accomplishment. It is an emotionally fulfilling story that, for every scare it gives, also fills you with joy and sorrow as Bol and Rial fight for every victory, literal and figurative, throughout the story. Follow HorrOrigins on Social Media
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Site powered by Weebly. Managed by SiteGround