By Thomas M. Puhr.
Talk to Me’s crisp runtime has its perks (there’s not an ounce of fat on this thing), but it also feels oddly truncated.”
Like the most effective urban legends, Talk to Me (2022) revolves around a deliciously simple conceit – or, in this case, a deliciously simple object: a dead occultist’s embalmed hand. In order to converse with spirits from the other side, follow these three simple steps: light a candle, clutch the outstretched fingers, and recite the titular incantation. Anyone with half a brain (or who has at least seen Candyman) would know to stay far away from this thing – that supernatural doors are a lot harder to close once opened, and that whatever lurks behind them is probably pissed about something. But those caught in the grip of Danny and Michael Philippou’s feature debut are that most unreliable and idiotic of horror movie prey: teenagers.
The duo at the narrative’s center are best friends Jade (Alexandra Jensen) and Mia (Sophie Wilde), the latter of whom is still reeling from her mother’s recent suicide. They first see the hand at a party, and it’s here that the New Zealand filmmakers announce their intention to tinker with what we expect from this type of story. Instead of a horrifying encounter that culminates with the festivities ending and everyone going home properly shaken, the attendees enjoy playing with the cursed object; they laugh, take selfies with it, and even slip a joint through its fingers to use it as a holder. When a victim’s eyes go black and they start speaking like a soul-sucker right out of The Evil Dead, the revelers all take out their phones and start recording: a visual gag that just might be the most accurate portrayal in a contemporary genre film of how actual teens would react to a demonic entity.
Includes one of the harshest set pieces I’ve seen in a while, proving that horror movies can be both amusing and delightfully meanspirited.”
Though often quite funny (As Jade’s exasperated mom, Miranda Otto delivers some punchy one-liners), Talk to Me is not a straight comedy, and the Philippous deftly balance their jokes with genuine scares and unironic emotional beats. A sequence in which Jade’s younger brother, Riley (Joe Bird), takes a crack at the hand is one of the harshest set pieces I’ve seen in a while, proving that horror movies can be both amusing and delightfully meanspirited. As the grieving Mia, Wilde lends some heart to the proceedings; she becomes obsessed with the hand after her mother’s spirit (or is it?) makes an appearance during an incantation and suggests her death wasn’t a suicide after all. Both Riley’s and Mia’s supernatural experiences point to a larger thematic concern with addiction, the film’s central object functioning like a new drug; it’s no coincidence that it gets passed around at parties, and the notion of teens cackling as they record someone sick on the floor is, unfortunately, not just the stuff of ghost stories.
At a post-screening Q&A with the brothers, they mentioned how the original cut was nearly twenty minutes longer, and it shows. Talk to Me’s crisp runtime has its perks (there’s not an ounce of fat on this thing), but it also feels oddly truncated. A love triangle torn from the pages of Pretty Little Liars or Gossip Girl – Jade’s boyfriend, Daniel (Otis Dhanji), used to date Mia and may still have feelings for her – goes nowhere, as if the Philippous got bored with their subplot and just threw it out the window during post-production. Characters who would make for some fantastic victims – like the bullyish Hayley (Zoe Terakes), who’s responsible for introducing the gang to the hand – instead disappear from the narrative entirely. Maybe this absence is another cliché the brothers are trying to subvert – this time, the jerk from school doesn’t get their bloody comeuppance – but some clichés remain in the horror toolbox for a reason: They’re a hell of a lot of fun.
Talk to Me has its fair share of inspired moments – Riley’s possession scene is worth the price of admission alone, and the final shot lands like a well-timed gut punch – but it never quite takes off, its closing act sputtering toward the end credits just when we expect the filmmakers to really let loose. But just like there’s really no such thing as a bad slice of pizza, there’s really no such thing (at least for this releases’ ideal audience) as a bad teen horror film whose primary goal is to dish out some laughs, scares, and – perhaps most importantly – entertainment (it’s easy to imagine a group of high schoolers checking this one out on a Friday night and having an absolute blast, especially in a packed theater). I suspect the Philippous have a great film gestating somewhere inside them, and Talk to Me is an impressive start.
Thomas Puhr lives in Chicago, where he teaches English and language arts. A regular contributor to Bright Lights Film Journal, he has published “‘Mysterious Appearances’ in Jonathan Glazer’s Identity Trilogy: Sexy Beast, Birth and Under the Skin” in issue 15.2 of Film International. His book Fate in Film: A Deterministic Approach to Cinema is available from Wallflower Press.