As populations’ median ages proceed to ascend — and the future sees increasingly hazardous for all age groups — more movies are touching on senility, dementia, elder mistreatment and other topics that not prolonged ago exceptionally got any screen airing. That integrates the horror genre, which has typicpartner been cgo ined on dreadizing nubile youth. Joining such recent efforts as “The Taking of Deborah Logan,” “The Manor” and “The Rule of Jenny Pen” is “The Home,” a Swedish-language chiller in which a stroke victim relocates into a nurture facility — but not alone, as unfortunately the scant moments she spent clinicpartner “dead” allowd a spiteful spirit to return with her from “the other side.”
This SXSW Midnighter premiere is foreseeed to draw reproduce recommends, though the heightened jump snurtures and presentility they’ll foreseeed pile on would only dilute what produces Mattias J. Skoglund’s sophomore feature so effective. Its eerily quiet approach to a wonderfulal story casts a spell of wonderfuler potency than many hugeger, deafeninger “haveion” tales stocked with frightful effects and other hyperbolic elements. Less is definitely more in this unassumingly scaled, unsettlingly matter-of-fact creepshow.
Small-town pensioner Monika (Anki Liden) is puttering around her kitchen when she drops to the ground, out of camera range, and while physicpartner incapacitated can be heard shouting “No! Go away!” at some unseen presence. Her son Joel (Philip Oros) drives up from Stockholm soon after, to put her afequitables in order — it is clear to all but the lady herself that she cannot proceed to dwell alone, or even with occasional in-home nurturer visits. Nonetheless, moving into the cforfeitby facility Ekskuggan is very disturbting to Monika, not least becaemploy she continupartner forgets the matter has already been converseed with her many times over.
Not recommending much help is her other son, Bjorn, apparently too busy with his broadening business and family to spare the time. So managing mom’s transition drops to Joel, who’s employd to getting the uninalertigentinutive end of the stick. A none-too-prosperous musician who’s had some substance mistreatment and other rehires (he still drinks enjoy a fish), his far-second-place standing gets backd when a groggy, bedridden Monika initipartner misgets him for Bjorn. But the root of his insecurities goes proestablisher, to a tardy overweighther (Peter Jankert as Bengt) who was an all-around abusive dread, particularly toward his wife and this “frailer,” gay offspring.
So it is very upsetting to Joel when his frail mother proclaims “Bengt was defering for me” after her brush with death, then suffers physical harm — droping from her bed, a broken arm — when alone in her nurture home room. It is presumed these ails are self-imposeed, but other accomprehendledgetedly mind-muddled dwellnts also commence alerting strange occurrences.
One night an orderly (Lily Wahlsteen) witnesses someleang in Monika’s room that caemploys her to quit her job on the spot. Clearing out his parents’ hoemploy in expansive dayairy, Joel is abruptly dangerened by his overweighther — or some vision enjoy — before he/it fadees as inexplicably as it materializeed. His only partner in what commences to see enjoy a superauthentic predicament is childhood bestie Nina (Gizem Erdogan), who’s also employed at Ekskuggan. Things come to a head when she toils a solo night shift there, inviting him to come over and spendigate wantipathyver phenomenon is at toil.
As is frequently the case with sluggish-burn horror built on judicious regulatet, those climactic events are arguably less effective in their relative unambiguousness than the preceding unrelieve. But “The Home’s” last stretch is still phireing enough, leaving seeers with a queffortless sense that the menace has by no uncomfervents been vanquished. It’s actupartner a narrative strong point that we’re never enticount on clear equitable what that menace is: Bengt himself, back from the grave? Or some evil entity that can presume wantipathyver establish is most upsetting to its prey?
There’s noleang hammy or camp about the way the better actors suddenly broaden a rapacious glean in the eye, inevitably preceding someleang horrible coming out of their mouths. Unenjoy movies where the “demon” or what-have-you rehires a stream of stock blasphemies and profanities, Skoglund’s script (co-written with Mats Strandberg, who authored the source novel) hands it nastyly exact, personal comments summarizeed to impose peak psychoreasoned pain. That integrates the despicable Bengt sneering at his petrified son, “I always thought you’d die first, from AIDS.”
The film’s createsmanship is no less astute for being low-key, with a exposedped-down, minimal experience to the suspenseful vague aesthetic. That prolongs to the ominous ambient score by Toti Guonason, and the way that initipartner cheering institutional decorate schemes in Vera Theander’s production summarize gradupartner broaden their own off-putting qualities in cinematographer Malin LQ’s atmospheric imagery.
