Film Review: Bring Her Back (2025) - Australia
Reviewed by Andrew Chan (Film Critic Circle of Australia)
I rated it 8/10
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Australian directors Danny and Michael Philippou’s "Talk to Me" wasn't just a hit; it was a cultural injection, a possessed fist to the gut that announced new, electrifying voices in horror. Their follow-up, “Bring Her Back”, is a different kind of haunting. Forget the viral, adrenaline-fueled party trick. This is a film that trades velocity for viscosity, replacing shock with a slow, suffocating seep of despair. It’s a sophomore effort not of repetition, but of remarkable, unsettling maturation – a descent into a domestic abyss where grief isn’t just felt; it becomes the architecture of a nightmare.
The story unfolds with a deceptive, quiet dread. Andy (Billy Barratt, solid and grounded) and his blind younger sister, Piper (the astonishingly good Sora Wong), are placed in the secluded care of Laura (Sally Hawkins), a foster mother radiating a brittle, fragile warmth. Ostensibly, it's a refuge for the siblings’ own trauma. Quickly, the air curdles. Laura’s kindness reveals itself as the desperate camouflage of obsession. Her drowned daughter isn't just mourned; she is the target of a grotesque, occult resurrection ritual. The film’s most chilling presence isn't spectral, but corporeal: the mute, unnerving "angel" named Oliver, confined to the attic. He’s less a character than a warning etched in flesh, a terrifying testament to the monstrous cost of violating the boundary between life and death.
Sally Hawkins delivers a performance that is nothing short of shattering. Her Laura is a masterpiece of tragic monstrosity. This isn't a cackling villain, but a woman whose soul has been scooped out by loss, leaving only a raw, desperate cavity. Hawkins makes every flutter of hope, every tremor of delusion, every ruthless step towards her horrific goal feel agonizingly plausible, even inevitable. We understand her abyss, even as we recoil from the things she does to fill it. Alongside her, Sora Wong is a revelation as Piper. Blindness in horror is often a cheap shortcut to vulnerability, but Wong invests Piper with fierce intelligence and palpable, authentic fear. Her performance is intensely physical – every hesitant step, every tilt of the head attuned to unseen threats – making her peril feel earned, never exploitative. She is our conduit into the film’s suffocating soundscape.
Ah, the atmosphere! The Philippou brothers, shedding some (but not all) of their "RackaRacka" freneticism, demonstrate a newfound mastery of slow-burn dread. They transform Laura’s isolated house into a character itself – a decaying womb of sorrow and madness. They exploit its geography with cruel precision, turning hallways into gauntlets and rooms into traps. Piper’s blindness becomes a brilliant narrative device; the film forces us to experience the terror primarily through sound. Every floorboard creak is a potential footstep, every muffled sob from the attic a chilling confirmation of the unnatural. The sound design isn't just effective; it's crucial, immersive to the point of claustrophobia. We feel as trapped as Piper, straining to interpret the unseen horrors unfolding around us.
When the horror does become manifest, the Philippous haven't lost their taste for the visceral. The practical effects, particularly the grotesque makeup on the ritual’s "results," are stomach-churningly effective. Yet, crucially, the gore serves the story of grief’s corruption, not the other way around. It’s disturbing, yes, but it avoids the numbing excess of torture porn, landing its blows with grim purpose.
”Bring Her Back" is a masterclass in atmospheric horror. It doesn’t startle you; it settles in you. It doesn’t rely on jump scares; it cultivates a deep, rotting unease that lingers long after the screen fades. Beautifully shot and anchored by a performance from Sally Hawkins that should be etched onto awards-season ballots, it’s a bleak, profoundly sad exploration of how grief, left unchecked, can metastasize into a parasite that consumes not just the mourner, but everything within its reach. The Philippous haven’t just avoided the sophomore slump; they’ve crafted a film that confirms their arrival as major talents, unafraid to plunge into the darkest corners of the human heart. This isn't just horror; it's a devastating review of the soul in mourning. (Neo 2025)