'Bring Her Back' Delivers an Unflinching Look at the All-Consuming Nature of Grief [Review]

Back in 2022, brothers Danny and Michael Philippou smashed onto the scene with their highly unique take on possession horror, Talk to Me. Popular Youtubers at the time, the frightening film instantly established the pair as a duo to be reckoned with. This month, they return with Bring Her Back, another exploration of grief and trauma that deals with the supernatural. But if you thought Talk to Me packed an emotional punch, just wait until you see Bring Her Back. The directors themselves have described the former as their “party” film, dubbing the latter more of a “slow burn”, an intense experience that I’d argue reaches even deeper levels of pain and sadness than their first feature…and that’s saying something.

After losing their father, Andy (Billy Barratt) and his younger sister, Piper (Sora Wong) enter the foster care system. They are soon taken in by Laura (Sally Hawkins), an eccentric counselor who also lost someone close to her, her daughter. To the surprise of the kids, Laura has another child at home named Oliver (Jonah Wren Phillips). Mute and a bit weird, there’s something off about the boy that Andy can’t quite put his finger on. It doesn’t matter though, because in three months, Andy will be old enough to become Piper’s legal guardian and they can move out on their own. Their new foster mother has other plans, though, driven by a grief that has transformed her into her most monstrous self.

​Two films in, and the Philippou brothers have begun to build a brand for themselves as filmmakers unafraid to dive into the deep well of grief through horror. That isn’t anything new, but what sets these two and their work apart from others is their honest approach. Bad things happen to good people (and vice versa). The world will kick you when you’re down, whether you deserve it or not. Horror doesn’t care about what’s taboo…it happens to kids, too. The Philippou’s tend not to indulge in tropes or force outcomes for a happy ending. They paint an unflinching picture of grief, what it does to us, the terror it enacts. Life isn’t fair, and Bring Her Back never shies away from that difficult truth.

Of course, authentic writing from Danny Philippou and co-writer Bill Hinzman only goes so far without a cast that can translate it to the screen. Luckily for the directors, their young performers and Sally Hawkins are up to the task. Struggling with visions of his father, Barratt exudes through Andy an engaging desperation to prove that he can take care of his little sister. Sora Wong—in her debut performance, no less—brings a yearning to be accepted, as a near-blind girl who can only make out shapes. They have been through a lot together, expressed through a sweet sibling chemistry that cements a reliance between each other. Laura, the type of woman who wears glittery nail polish and a purple sweater to a funeral, intends to break that trust. She is the most fascinating type of antagonist, a person who perhaps used to be good, but has been twisted into something else over the loss of her daughter. The camera refuses to look away as she does things like convince Andy that he’s wetting the bed to deepen his psychological torment, gradually escalating into more brutal tactics. The horror of Bring Her Back lies less with the supernatural and more with the all-too-real human monster that grief can turn us into.

If you’ve seen Talk to Me, then you’re aware just how willing the Philippou brothers are to cross a line or three. Once again, the filmmakers ask, what line? This is a film that deals with child abuse. With an anger towards death. With the all-consuming nature of grief, expressed through Oliver and the boy’s insatiable hunger that leads to some rather unsavory eating habits. As they did with Talk to Me, the filmmakers manage to take a concept that feels familiar and introduce fresh elements that make what’s old feel new and exciting and deeply unsettling. There are moments in the film that I know will be seared into my mind forever, occurrences so gruesome you may experience phantom pains while watching. Bring Her Back is a film that hurts.

Yet for all the horror, the hurt, the bloodshed, I cannot stress enough just how sad Bring Her Back is. It’s a film that asks you to sympathize with all forms of grief—even the monsters it creates—making for a watch that tears at the heart strings. It doesn’t pluck those things. It rips and it bites and it chews on them. Think of grief like an open wound that the filmmakers stick a knife into and twist around. It sounds unpleasant, and it is, but it’s also a profound experience that approaches tragedy in a more affecting, honest way than most of the horror films that have released in the last decade attempting to do the same.

Despite their thematic similarities, do not go into the Philippou’s latest expecting Talk to Me. The filmmakers are right when they describe the latter as having more of a party energy compared to the former’s much grimmer take on a similar subject. This isn’t for the faint of heart, and it certainly isn’t for anyone expecting a “fun” horror film. Bring Her Back isn’t just the feel bad film of the year. It’s the feel bad film of this decade. When it comes to telling authentic, grief-ridden horror stories, the Philippou brothers are one (two?) of a kind.

Bring Her Back arrives in theaters May 30th from A24. 

By Matt Konopka