Talk to Me

Talk to Me announces you’re in for an unsettling tale with a shocker of a prologue. Any details would ruin the surprise. After a disturbing intro, it introduces our lead protagonist, memorably played by Sophie Wilde. Mia is a 17-year-old struggling with the death of her mother (Alexandria Steffensen). She believes Rhea’s passing was the result of an accidental overdose. Mia’s relationship with her father, Max (Marcus Johnson), is strained. She now spends most of her time with friend Jade (Alexandra Jensen) and Jade’s younger brother Riley (Joe Bird). Their protective mother, Sue, is imbued with a sassy cynicism by Miranda Otto.

One night, Mia, Jade, and Riley sneak out to a house party hosted by friends Hayley (Zoe Terakes) and Joss (Chris Alosio), where they attempt to contact the deceased. A severed hand, embalmed in ceramic and scrawled with graffiti, is their method of choice. Like a Ouija board, but oh, so much creepier and decidedly more powerful. After lighting a candle, they grasp the hand and announce, “Talk to me.” The words conjure a spirit. The next step is to say, “I’ll let you in.” What follows is one of the more believable (and scarier) supernatural manifestations I’ve seen.

Ever since The Exorcist, demonic possession movies have been a dime a dozen. So many descend into silly chronicles that rely on cliches. Bones cracking as contorted bodies bend backward like a spider is an overused convention. Computer graphics may offer hellish displays but are so common they’re not scary anymore. In this case, a meager $4.5 million budget is an inspiration to be more inventive. Twin brothers Danny and Michael Philippou started a YouTube platform featuring horror comedy videos called RackaRacka in 2013. The successful channel has amassed 6.75 million subscribers. Talk to Me is their debut feature. No stranger to horror pictures (The Witch, It Comes at Night, Hereditary), A24 outbid all other studios at the 2023 Sundance Film Festival to secure the rights.

Practical effects and creative makeup skillfully promote a chilling mood. The Academy rarely acknowledges horror, but this is one picture I hope gets some love — at the very least, a nod for Best Sound. The punctuations brilliantly accentuate the demonic possessions on screen. The Exorcist won the Oscar for Sound in 1974, and the work here by Emma Bortignon and her team is similarly excellent. The aural design is intrinsic to the scares.

The account is compelling because it feels plausible. It’s not hard to accept that a group of — admittedly reckless — kids would get sucked into the momentary thrill of being possessed. What inevitably happens when things get out of control is a refreshingly simple setup. A straightforward narrative climaxes with a perfect ending. The screenplay by Danny Philippou and Bill Hinzman clocks in at an efficient 95 minutes. The story doesn’t need unnecessary exposition. The viewer is thankfully spared some nonsense about the history of the hand through the ages. The object simply exists, and we immediately understand what it does. For its ability to deliver potent shocks, I have to give the filmmakers a hand.

08-08-23