The Moviegoer: Sinister Images

Each week in The Moviegoer, Nick Olson examines new and upcoming films.

Ellison Oswalt (Ethan Hawke) both has trouble seeing and is increasingly troubled by what he does see. In Scott Derrickson’s latest horror film, Sinister, we continually see shots of Ellison fumbling, readjusting, and donning his black-rimmed glasses. More often, we get close-up shots of Ellison looking intently through those glasses as the reflection of sinister images rolls across the lenses, and we see him growing more disturbed by them. He’s found some film footage so evil that it’s consuming his day-to-day life, constraining his foresight in a way that ominous visions often do.

Early on, we’re treated to a shot of just how blurry Ellison’s vision is without his glasses. There’s a sense in which his insight — his wisdom — is being hampered by the image he wants to create for himself: Famous True Crime Novelist. If there’s a recurring image in the film that effectively presents the problem this creates, it’s the outside of Ellison’s office with the door closed, where he is shut away from his family in the darkness and out of their sight, pursuing a dream in such a way that puts them in danger.

Or perhaps the film’s defining image is the unnerving Super 8 footage that it opens with: a family of four hanging beneath a tree branch with bags over their heads and nooses around their necks. An unseen evil cuts a balancing limb which causes the family to strangle to death in their own back yard. Oh, and it’s reported that one child survived, and is missing.

Ellison has moved his family to the victims’ house several months after their deaths, though his wife Tracy (Juliet Rylance) and children are initially unaware of the house’s haunting significance. Hopeful that the murders will form the basis of a best-selling true crime novel, Ellison is desperate for a career revival to the point of selfish recklessness. Ellison assembles his dark office like a crime investigator’s; it’s his job to piece together the evidence for his novel, to look closer at the details of the murders, even, ironically, as attentiveness to his family blurs.

When moving boxes into the attic, he stumbles upon quite the find: a box containing a projector and several reels of Super 8 footage that are labeled like homemade memories. However, what Ellison soon discovers is that each reel is of a different family being murdered in a uniquely grisly way. It’s when he spots the faint appearance of a demonic-looking face in one of those reels that strange things begin happening to Ellison, his family, and their house.  Let’s just say that “Family Hanging Out ’11″ is one of the labels.

Sinister is effective horror, because Derrickson’s approach thrives on atmospherics, cut-away restraint, and a dramatic subtext that works as a complement rather than a detriment to the film’s worthy scares. He doesn’t eschew genre conventions, but he’s not cheaply reliant on them either. The house makes all of the noises one would expect, but it’s smart moves like Derrickson’s use of the sound of film reel that I won’t soon forget. It’s a nice formal touch as it audibly highlights the powerful way that images can become ingrained in us. Visually, the film has a darker shade to it that is characteristically noir — even the daytime sequences are tinted. There’s a crime-solving-mystery stylistic urgency about Sinister that feels akin to David Fincher’s work (Se7en, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo). This tone feels most penetrating when accompanied by this sufficiently creepy song choice.

The horrific and this stylistic urgency come together most strikingly with the Super 8 footage, which is one of my favorite uses of “found footage” to date. There’s something unnerving about the form itself of 8mm footage. To these eyes, there’s an essential crudity inherent to the form. The murderous crimes which unfold have an elemental quality about them–they are unconcealed . . . blunt. And this makes Derrickson’s restraint all the more important and necessary as an artifice. At particular moments–just when the footage is too much to bear–he backs away, but does so in such a way that doesn’t necessarily make us more comfortable. Instead of relying on 8mm brutality, Derrickson more often focuses on how the footage is affecting Ellison: the images infecting the soul behind his eyes, the increased drinking, and the fact that he is not safe away from the screen, either. As we intake the footage with Ellison, our shared position  is an unstable one, because of the haunted state of the house. This lends a spatial paranoia to the act of watching the footage that is not dependent on the images themselves.

Ellison comes to find out that, according to ancient Christian tradition, the demon he’s spotted in the footage is said to live in the images, which function as a portal between the two realms. What’s interesting is that what runs parallel to Ellison seeing the image of “Bughuul” is the sense in which he is wrapped up in pursuing a self-image he wants to attain at all costs. The parallel works, because, in both of these ways, images are profoundly powerful in the damage they can inflict. We’re told that Bughuul is a demon that “consumes” children, and it’s complemented by the sense in which images can have an especially impressive impact on the child’s psyche. And, at the same time, Ellison is pursuing a self-image in such an inordinately selfish manner that he’s eating away at the stability of his marriage, and ultimately his children. The defining self-image that Ellison is pursuing is essentially Bughuulian in its import.

Perhaps most admirable about Derrickson’s film is that he pays careful attention to evil in both the demonic and the human. There are real evil forces exterior to human agency, and also evil that has infected human beings. Neither of these are ignored, and the relationship between the two is highlighted. The idolatrous, ultimately, is that which replaces God as our ultimate self-image; because these images cannot satisfy, those around us become part of our insatiable consumption. This is the specter of sinister self-images; not only are they hauntingly dissatisfying, but their consequences–and the forces behind them–often only come into view when it is too late.

About Nick Olson

Nick Olson (Associate Editor) loves the Triune God, his family, the arts, and culture. In 2010, he graduated with his MA in English from Liberty University. He now resides in central PA with his wife, Eliza, and their young son. When he’s not reading, watching films, grading papers, or enjoying his backyard, he’s plotting in hopes to pursue a PhD in American Literature with socio-philosophical emphases. He takes a James Hunter-approach to culture: affirmation and antithesis, but always in love. He watches the Pittsburgh Steelers and the NBA, and thinks that Colbert is often right, but always funny. Nick strives to live day-to-day in the eschatological Light that is the hope of the resurrected Christ. He’s written for Filmwell, Books & Culture, Christianity Today, Think Christian, Curator, and Literature & Belief.
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  • http://blog.christianitytoday.com/women/2009/03/karen_swallow_prior.html KSP

    Nick, your excellent post brings to mind a couple of other interesting connections, one within the film and one without. First, the scene in which Ellison replays the video recording of himself being interviewed on television following the success of his last book: that’s the very image he wants to reclaim and make permanent for himself in the same way that those children [SPOILER ALERT] end up permanent residents in the films. Second, your point about the uniqueness of each family murder reminds me of that great line from Anna Karenina: “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”

    Thanks for a great review that makes me love this film even more than I already did.

  • Nick Olson

    Ohhh–I love the connection you make to the TV interview. I wish I’d thought of that strong supporting point. ;) Thanks for commenting, Karen!

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  • Jeremy

    Just watched this last night, and I wasn’t very impressed. The two movies that immediately came to mind for comparison was THE SHINNING and SE7EN. I don’t think anyone would say this was as effective as these, but it seems to be attempting to have the same type of impact. I wished it would have mined Ellison’s personal demons, and their affect on the family, more. What I really liked about THE SHINNING is the ambiguity. It is never really clear what the possession is, other than some relation to alcoholism (I guess it is much more explicit in the novel). To me, it seemed like the father’s obsession and detachment was just a plot contrivance. To be sure, Ethan Hawk brought much more to the role than you normally see in this type of movie. Even so, his struggle never really connected for me. It maybe because there was an actual demon. This was a big cop-out for me. It seemed too on the nose.
    The psychological aspect is where this differs greatly with SE7EN. For that film, the characters’ psychological condition is integral to the story. The final scene has everything to do with the meticulous character development that had happened previously in the film (again, the two films are in different leagues). As I said already, the character development in SINISTER seemed shallow and obvious, and ultimately, just another conventional plot point.
    I guess I found the film completely ordinary. The direction and acting was certainly better than most other films of its ilk, and there are plenty of them. I just simply don’t care for those type of films. I also don’t care for films that depend so much on plot twists. Not that it matters, but I correctly guessed the “murderer” about 30 minutes before the end. What makes SE7EN so effective is that you are so interested in the character’s and their decisions that you are not sitting there trying to figure out what he next plot twist will be.


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