Reviews

Hatching finds the extreme, bloody horror we all knew was behind influencer culture

This review hatching The film was originally released with a film premiere at the 2022 Sundance International Film Festival. Updated and re-released for theatrical and streaming release of this film.

Finnish cinema opening film hatching can cause terrorism Fans for an intense flashback to one of Charlie Brooker’s best episodes black mirror. episode season 3 diving An aesthetic of perfection in pinks and pastels permeates the minds of viewers as the characters navigate a world built around a burgeoning Instagram-style online life. This creates a fear of these types of influencer artifacts, and a distrust of the secret work and selfish motives involved in their creation. hatching It starts in a similar place as the perfect happy family of four live their lives around carefully crafted and strategically crafted social media posts. But the movie will be much darker than that black mirrorIt moves much faster and has a much more brutal ending.

hatching Another nefarious satire on the online culture of this era. The 1980s were full of horror films built around normal Norman Rockwell pictures of suburban life and dark belly that sometimes make you believe it. But that kind of horror has mostly turned into a movie like this: cam, Main actorAnd HatredIt warns of what lies beneath the surface of social media identities and what happens when people use the internet to seek approval at any cost. hatching We paraphrase this familiar warning into a metaphor that is so simplistic and obvious that it can almost seem ridiculous. However, the extreme of what director Hanna Bergholm brings to the screen largely offsets the feeling that the message is too simplistic.

Photo: IFC Midnight

12-year-old Tinja (Siiri Solalinna) appears to have grown up as an accomplice to her mother’s video blog, Lovely Everyday Life. Tinja, her younger brother Matias (Oiva Ollila), and their parents (known only as mother (Sophia Heikkilä) and father (Jani Volanen)) manage their lives for an online audience. The mother frequently posts videos of her perfect family and home, and she has mobilized the whole family to maintain the exact fantasies she wants to project.

Ilja Rautsi’s scenario sums up this idea to the most basic of things, and makes no mention of who her mother’s audience is or what her mother wants from them. She was able to perform in front of large, lucrative audiences. Or maybe she’s trying to build her followers in an area of ​​influence that she barely notices. She may be obsessed with her own fantasies of her ideal life and try to project those fantasies onto others. Bergholm doesn’t put her blog on the screen, she leaves her readership and reaction to the imagination of her audience. Abstraction is part of the horror and part of the insight of the film. Followers rule her mother’s life and rule her Tinja through her. But to Tinja, they are faceless and formless, so they are invisible to the audience.

Tinja loves her mother and will do anything to please her. But soon after her mother’s ruthlessness was evident in her eyes due to her disturbing events, Tinja took her eggs from the forest to her house and hid them in her room. As her mother’s behavior becomes more and more controlled and repressive, the eggs grow to enormous sizes and hatch a monster clearly intended to reflect anything Tinja would not approve of her mother. The slender and graceful places are bumpy and deformed. Obedient and docile, unpredictable and angry. In neat and pretty places, it is dull and permeable, etc.

Tinja (Siiri Solalinna) shudders in horror at the off-screen presence in Hatching.

Photo: IFC Midnight

The metaphor becomes clearer as Tinja tries to hide a creature nicknamed “Alli” after a creepy Finnish lullaby. Alli represents the ugly part of Tinja that she fears and hides, but is still consciously nurturing. It grows and becomes more and more terrible. She sees it flowing into a terrible place, but she continues to protect it. She fears it will break her own control, expose her own deception, and provoke her mother’s wrath. But at the same time, it satisfies their darkest impulses and responds to their jealousy and resentment.

The clarity of this symbolism is so clear and nose-heavy, especially when Alli leads Tinja into a clearly coded problem of a teenage girl. (Alli chewed and vomited food, causing Tinja to act like bulimia, binge eating and vomiting. Alli left blood on Tinja’s bedsheets and made it appear that Tinja had started menstruating, which greatly embarrass her father. ) And these themes The story repeats a few times as Tinja and Alli meet, reconcile, and meet again.

The risk gets higher each time, but it sometimes slows down as the story of Tinja’s plight and her mother’s escalating behavior circulates. hatching It follows the familiar path of horror stories where people face their dark duality and see what they could or want to be. This makes a lot of action feel like it’s scheduled, and despite its efficient 86-minute length, the film feels a bit overwhelming at times.

But Alli is a seductive being that gives the film a heretical and trembling center. Bergholm told Polygon that he literally searched for the world’s best film animation experts and then contacted him about working on the film. This bold decision paid off. Animatronics director Gustav Hoegen led Lucasfilm’s real life effects team and was directly involved with the film. Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, solo, Last Jedi, villain circleAnd The Force Awakens. Her SFX makeup boss, Conor O’Sullivan, shares ancestry with half of the Oscar-nominated effects duo that gave Heath Ledger a bizarre look as the Joker. dark knight. She and her team make Alli terribly instinctive with a familiar weight and conviction for pragmatic effects rather than CG effects. And Solalinna’s acting with a puppet is captivating and horrendous. Together they move through the film’s weaknesses and lead to a memorable ending.

Two blonde figures fight to hatch on a pastel pink carpet.

Photo: IFC Midnight

In the film’s press release, Bergholm said she wanted to do it hatching “Especially for audiences who have traditionally been terrified of watching horror movies, but want to see a strong story about women’s emotions.” This explanation is understandable. hatching It feels more like a dark fairy tale rather than your usual slasher, and the message is particularly grounded in the trials and tribulations of girlhood, the expectations women face, and how directly the two are related.

But Bergholm’s synopsis still shows just how terrifying and sometimes utterly bloody. hatching am. Shy audiences, who generally loathe horror, will not find much comfort or solace in this film. But for longtime horror fans, this feels like new. A simple story told in the harshest and most surprising way is given a nightmare face.

hatching Theatrical release April 29, digital and VOD release May 17.


More information

Hatching finds the extreme, bloody horror we all knew was behind influencer culture

This review of Hatching was originally published in conjunction with the film’s premiere at the 2022 Sundance International Film Festival. It has been updated and republished for the film’s theatrical and streaming release.
The opening act of the Finnish film Hatching may give horror fans some intense flashbacks to one of the best episodes of Charlie Brooker’s Black Mirror. The season 3 episode Nosedive sears an aesthetic of pink-and-pastel perfection into viewers’ brains, as its characters navigate a world built around Instagram-style aspirational online living. Then it builds up a sense of dread around that kind of influencer artificiality, and a distrust of the disguised labor and selfish motives involved in creating it. Hatching starts in a similar place, with a blissfully perfect family of four curating their lives around carefully composed, strategically framed social-media posts. But the film gets much darker than Black Mirror, it moves much faster, and it reaches much bloodier ends.
Hatching is yet another vicious satire of online culture in an age that’s increasingly finding traction with them. The 1980s were full of horror movies built around the wholesome Norman Rockwell image of suburban life, and the seamy underbelly it sometimes disguises. But that brand of horror has mostly morphed into movies like Cam, Spree, and The Hater, warning about what’s under the surface of a social-media identity, and what happens when people use the internet to chase approval at any cost. Hatching couches that familiar warning in a metaphor so simple and obvious that it almost seems ridiculous. But the extremity of what director Hanna Bergholm puts onscreen strongly counterbalances any sense that the message is too facile.

Photo: IFC Midnight
Twelve-year-old Tinja (Siiri Solalinna) seems to have been raised as an accessory to her mother’s video blog, Lovely Everyday Life. Tinja, her younger brother Matias (Oiva Ollila), and their parents — credited solely as Mother (Sophia Heikkilä) and Father (Jani Volanen) — curate their entire lives for an online audience. The mother frequently posts videos about her perfect family and their perfect home, and she’s enlisted the whole family in upholding the exact illusion she wants to project.
Ilja Rautsi’s script strips that idea down to its bare essentials by never addressing who the mother’s audience is, or what she wants from them. She might be performing for a vast, profitable audience. Or maybe she’s trying to build a following in an influencer sphere that barely notices her. Possibly she’s just obsessing over her own fantasy of an ideal life, and trying to project that fantasy to others. Bergholm keeps the blog off the screen, and its readership and their response are left to the audience’s imagination. The abstraction is part of the film’s horror, and part of its insight: The followers rule the mother’s life, and through her, they rule Tinja. But they’re a faceless, shapeless entity to Tinja, so they’re invisible to the audience as well.
Tinja worships her mother and would do anything to please her. But shortly after an unsettling event lets her see her mother’s ruthlessness, Tinja brings an egg home from the forest and hides it in her room. As her mother’s behavior becomes increasingly controlling and oppressive, the egg grows to enormous size, then hatches a monstrosity that’s clearly meant to reflect everything Tinja could be that her mother would disapprove of. Where she’s slim and graceful, it’s lumpy and misshapen. Where she’s obedient and tractable, it’s erratic and raging. Where she’s primped and pretty, it’s slimy and oozing, and so forth.

Photo: IFC Midnight
As Tinja tries to hide the creature, nicknamed “Alli” after a creepy Finnish cradle song, the metaphor gets clearer and clearer: While Alli represents the ugly parts of Tinja that she fears and hides, she still consciously nurtures it, feeding it in secret and letting it grow and become more and more terrible. Even though she can see it’s heading to terrible places, she keeps protecting it. She’s afraid of it breaking her control, exposing her deception, and drawing her mother’s wrath. But at the same time, it fulfills her darkest impulses, acting on her jealousies and resentments.
The patness of that symbolism frequently feels too blatant and on-the-nose, particularly when Alli leads Tinja into problems clearly coded as teen-girl issues. (Alli needs its food chewed and regurgitated, which makes Tinja behave like a bulimic, binging and purging. Alli leaves blood on Tinja’s sheets, making it look as if Tinja has started menstruating, to her father’s acute embarrassment.) And playing out those themes leads the story into to some repetition as Tinja and Alli clash, reconcile, and clash again.
The stakes get higher each time, but the pacing sometimes drags as the story cycles around Tinja’s distress and the mother’s escalating behavior. Hatching follows a familiar path for horror stories where people face their dark doppelgängers, and see what they might have been, or what they’re afraid of becoming. That leads to a lot of the action feeling foreordained, and even at an efficient 86 minutes long, the film sometimes feels a little overstretched.
But Alli is a mesmerizing presence that gives the film a cultish shivery center. Bergholm tells Polygon that she literally Googled the world’s best specialist in movie animatronics, then reached out to him about working on the film. That bold choice paid off: Her animatronics supervisor, Gustav Hoegen, came directly to this film from running practical creature-effects teams for Lucasfilm, on Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Solo, The Last Jedi, Rogue One, and The Force Awakens. Her SFX makeup head, Conor O’Sullivan, comes with a similar pedigree, as half of the Oscar-nominated effects duo who gave Heath Ledger his grotesque leer as the Joker in The Dark Knight. Together, they and their teams make Alli hideously visceral, with the familiar weight and conviction of a practical effect instead of a CG effect. And Solalinna’s performance with the puppet is convincing and distressing. Together, they carry the movie past its weaker points to a memorable ending.

Photo: IFC Midnight
In a press packet for the film, Bergholm says she wanted to make Hatching “especially for audiences who are traditionally afraid to watch horror films, but want to see powerful stories about female emotions.” That description is understandable: Hatching does feel like a dark fairy tale instead of a standard slasher, and its messaging is particularly and specifically built around the trials of girlhood, the expectations women face, and how directly the two relate to each other.
But Bergholm’s summary still undersells how deeply creepy and sometimes outright gory Hatching is. Timid viewers who are normally averse to horror aren’t going to find much comfort or safety in this movie. But for longtime horror buffs, this feels like something fresh: a simple story, told in the rawest and most startling way, and given a face out of nightmares.
Hatching opens in theaters on April 29, with a digital and VOD release set for May 17.

#Hatching #finds #extreme #bloody #horror #knew #influencer #culture

Hatching finds the extreme, bloody horror we all knew was behind influencer culture

This review of Hatching was originally published in conjunction with the film’s premiere at the 2022 Sundance International Film Festival. It has been updated and republished for the film’s theatrical and streaming release.
The opening act of the Finnish film Hatching may give horror fans some intense flashbacks to one of the best episodes of Charlie Brooker’s Black Mirror. The season 3 episode Nosedive sears an aesthetic of pink-and-pastel perfection into viewers’ brains, as its characters navigate a world built around Instagram-style aspirational online living. Then it builds up a sense of dread around that kind of influencer artificiality, and a distrust of the disguised labor and selfish motives involved in creating it. Hatching starts in a similar place, with a blissfully perfect family of four curating their lives around carefully composed, strategically framed social-media posts. But the film gets much darker than Black Mirror, it moves much faster, and it reaches much bloodier ends.
Hatching is yet another vicious satire of online culture in an age that’s increasingly finding traction with them. The 1980s were full of horror movies built around the wholesome Norman Rockwell image of suburban life, and the seamy underbelly it sometimes disguises. But that brand of horror has mostly morphed into movies like Cam, Spree, and The Hater, warning about what’s under the surface of a social-media identity, and what happens when people use the internet to chase approval at any cost. Hatching couches that familiar warning in a metaphor so simple and obvious that it almost seems ridiculous. But the extremity of what director Hanna Bergholm puts onscreen strongly counterbalances any sense that the message is too facile.

Photo: IFC Midnight
Twelve-year-old Tinja (Siiri Solalinna) seems to have been raised as an accessory to her mother’s video blog, Lovely Everyday Life. Tinja, her younger brother Matias (Oiva Ollila), and their parents — credited solely as Mother (Sophia Heikkilä) and Father (Jani Volanen) — curate their entire lives for an online audience. The mother frequently posts videos about her perfect family and their perfect home, and she’s enlisted the whole family in upholding the exact illusion she wants to project.
Ilja Rautsi’s script strips that idea down to its bare essentials by never addressing who the mother’s audience is, or what she wants from them. She might be performing for a vast, profitable audience. Or maybe she’s trying to build a following in an influencer sphere that barely notices her. Possibly she’s just obsessing over her own fantasy of an ideal life, and trying to project that fantasy to others. Bergholm keeps the blog off the screen, and its readership and their response are left to the audience’s imagination. The abstraction is part of the film’s horror, and part of its insight: The followers rule the mother’s life, and through her, they rule Tinja. But they’re a faceless, shapeless entity to Tinja, so they’re invisible to the audience as well.
Tinja worships her mother and would do anything to please her. But shortly after an unsettling event lets her see her mother’s ruthlessness, Tinja brings an egg home from the forest and hides it in her room. As her mother’s behavior becomes increasingly controlling and oppressive, the egg grows to enormous size, then hatches a monstrosity that’s clearly meant to reflect everything Tinja could be that her mother would disapprove of. Where she’s slim and graceful, it’s lumpy and misshapen. Where she’s obedient and tractable, it’s erratic and raging. Where she’s primped and pretty, it’s slimy and oozing, and so forth.

Photo: IFC Midnight
As Tinja tries to hide the creature, nicknamed “Alli” after a creepy Finnish cradle song, the metaphor gets clearer and clearer: While Alli represents the ugly parts of Tinja that she fears and hides, she still consciously nurtures it, feeding it in secret and letting it grow and become more and more terrible. Even though she can see it’s heading to terrible places, she keeps protecting it. She’s afraid of it breaking her control, exposing her deception, and drawing her mother’s wrath. But at the same time, it fulfills her darkest impulses, acting on her jealousies and resentments.
The patness of that symbolism frequently feels too blatant and on-the-nose, particularly when Alli leads Tinja into problems clearly coded as teen-girl issues. (Alli needs its food chewed and regurgitated, which makes Tinja behave like a bulimic, binging and purging. Alli leaves blood on Tinja’s sheets, making it look as if Tinja has started menstruating, to her father’s acute embarrassment.) And playing out those themes leads the story into to some repetition as Tinja and Alli clash, reconcile, and clash again.
The stakes get higher each time, but the pacing sometimes drags as the story cycles around Tinja’s distress and the mother’s escalating behavior. Hatching follows a familiar path for horror stories where people face their dark doppelgängers, and see what they might have been, or what they’re afraid of becoming. That leads to a lot of the action feeling foreordained, and even at an efficient 86 minutes long, the film sometimes feels a little overstretched.
But Alli is a mesmerizing presence that gives the film a cultish shivery center. Bergholm tells Polygon that she literally Googled the world’s best specialist in movie animatronics, then reached out to him about working on the film. That bold choice paid off: Her animatronics supervisor, Gustav Hoegen, came directly to this film from running practical creature-effects teams for Lucasfilm, on Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Solo, The Last Jedi, Rogue One, and The Force Awakens. Her SFX makeup head, Conor O’Sullivan, comes with a similar pedigree, as half of the Oscar-nominated effects duo who gave Heath Ledger his grotesque leer as the Joker in The Dark Knight. Together, they and their teams make Alli hideously visceral, with the familiar weight and conviction of a practical effect instead of a CG effect. And Solalinna’s performance with the puppet is convincing and distressing. Together, they carry the movie past its weaker points to a memorable ending.

Photo: IFC Midnight
In a press packet for the film, Bergholm says she wanted to make Hatching “especially for audiences who are traditionally afraid to watch horror films, but want to see powerful stories about female emotions.” That description is understandable: Hatching does feel like a dark fairy tale instead of a standard slasher, and its messaging is particularly and specifically built around the trials of girlhood, the expectations women face, and how directly the two relate to each other.
But Bergholm’s summary still undersells how deeply creepy and sometimes outright gory Hatching is. Timid viewers who are normally averse to horror aren’t going to find much comfort or safety in this movie. But for longtime horror buffs, this feels like something fresh: a simple story, told in the rawest and most startling way, and given a face out of nightmares.
Hatching opens in theaters on April 29, with a digital and VOD release set for May 17.

#Hatching #finds #extreme #bloody #horror #knew #influencer #culture


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