Crawling Curses: It Follows and Relic Redefine Inherited Terrors

When the horror you inherit refuses to run, it simply walks towards you – slowly, inevitably, decaying everything in its path.

In the shadowed corridors of modern horror, few films capture the dread of inexorable pursuit quite like David Robert Mitchell’s It Follows (2014) and Natalie Erika James’s Relic (2020). Both masterclasses in psychological terror, they transform personal afflictions – a sexually transmitted curse and familial dementia – into supernatural entities that manifest as slow-walking harbingers of doom. This comparative exploration unearths how these films weaponise inheritance, pitting the bedroom against the family home as battlegrounds for survival.

  • How It Follows turns a venereal curse into a relentless pedestrian stalker, mirroring the paranoia of casual intimacy.
  • Relic‘s metamorphosis of a dementia-riddled house into a living entity of decay, probing the horrors of generational decline.
  • Shared motifs of slow inevitability, bodily violation, and psychological unraveling that elevate both to cornerstones of elevated horror.

The Stalking Shadow: Unpacking It Follows’ Intimate Plague

David Robert Mitchell crafts a nightmare born from a single act of vulnerability in It Follows. Protagonist Jay (Maika Monroe) enjoys a seemingly innocuous sexual encounter with a new beau, only to awaken paralysed and haunted by his revelation: he has passed on a curse acquired from a previous lover. This entity, visible solely to the afflicted, assumes human form and trudges towards its target at a walking pace, indifferent to walls, water, or weapons. No sprint, no spectacle – just the plodding certainty of mortality incarnate. Mitchell’s genius lies in amplifying everyday dread; the suburbs of Detroit become a labyrinth where every pedestrian could be death disguised.

The narrative unfolds with meticulous restraint. Jay enlists friends – the bookish Paul (Keir Gilchrist), sardonic Yara (Olivia Luccardi), and brooding Greg (Daniel Zovatto) – in a desperate game of pass-the-curse via further sexual encounters. Yet the entity persists, shapeshifting into familiar faces: a towering naked man, an old woman in lingerie, a child with sunken eyes. Each manifestation underscores the film’s thesis on transmission; sex, that ultimate intimacy, becomes a vector for doom, echoing real-world fears of STIs amid the post-AIDS era. Mitchell draws from urban legends of ‘the hook’ or ‘vanishing hitchhiker’, but subverts them into a postmodern plague.

Cinematography by Mike Gioulakis employs wide-angle lenses to distort spatial logic, making the entity’s approach feel both immediate and eternal. Sound design, helmed by Rich Vreeland (Disasterpeace), pulses with a retro synth score – throbbing basslines mimicking a heartbeat under siege. Iconic sequences, like the beachside drive-in assault where the entity smashes through a car window, blend visceral kills with existential weight. Jay’s arc from denial to defiance culminates in a poolside standoff, bullets and lamps shattering the water as the walker closes in, symbolising futile resistance against consequence.

Produced on a shoestring $2 million budget by RADiUS-TWC, It Follows sidestepped traditional marketing, relying on festival buzz from Cannes and Toronto. Its 95% Rotten Tomatoes score propelled indie horror’s renaissance, influencing films like The Babadook (2014) with its metaphor-heavy dread. Yet beneath the allegory lies raw terror: the curse as inescapable adulthood, where pleasure begets punishment.

The Rotting Hearth: Relic’s Domestic Demolition

Natalie Erika James flips the script on haunted house tropes in Relic, where the family abode itself embodies cognitive decline. Elderly Edna (Robyn Nevin) vanishes within her creaky Victorian manse, prompting daughter Kay (Emily Mortimer) and granddaughter Sam (Bella Heathcote) to investigate. Black mould creeps up walls, doors jam inexplicably, and Edna reappears disoriented, sporting bruises and a yellowing stain on her dress – harbingers of the entity’s grip. Inspired by James’s own grandmother’s Alzheimer’s battle, the film personifies dementia as a fungal parasite, spreading via blood and bone rather than bedsheets.

The plot simmers with quiet devastation. Kay grapples with resentment towards her mother’s frailty, while Sam bonds through games of hide-and-seek amid the decay. Revelatory scenes expose the horror’s mechanics: Edna gnaws raw meat from the fridge, her teeth blackening; a labyrinthine crawlspace reveals polaroids charting the family’s infection timeline. The entity manifests as shadowy figures and a grotesque, drooling crone, but crucially as the house – floors buckling, wallpaper peeling like skin. Climaxing in a mercy-killing ritual, Sam embraces the curse, knocking on wood panelling to signal acceptance of inevitable inheritance.

Shooting in rural Victoria, Australia, with cinematographer Charlie Sarroff, James utilises Steadicam for claustrophobic prowls through dim hallways, lit by practical sources that cast elongated shadows. Aaron Windserv’s soundscape emphasises organic squelches and muffled knocks, evoking bodily breakdown. Minimal gore amplifies unease; a jaw-dropping reveal of Edna’s infested mouth employs practical effects by Kieron Basha, blending silicone prosthetics with Nevin’s committed performance. At 89 minutes, Relic distils terror into familial microcosm, grossing modestly but earning A24 distribution and Shudder acclaim.

Cultural resonance abounds: Relic dialogues with Japanese onryō ghosts and The Others (2001), but innovates by rooting supernatural in medical realism. Dementia affects 55 million globally; James humanises the statistics, forcing viewers to confront care burdens without sentimentality.

Transmission Terrors: Sex, Blood, and the Walking Dead

Juxtaposing the films reveals parallel transmissions: It Follows‘ carnal curse versus Relic‘s sanguine one. Both demand sacrifice – sex to evade, filicide to contain – underscoring inheritance’s cost. The entities’ pedestrian gait unifies them; no frenzy, just the grind of entropy. Mitchell’s walker ignores physics, phasing through obstacles; James’s house-entity warps architecture, rooms elongating like neural pathways fraying.

Body horror unites yet diverges. Jay’s violation is penetrative, external stalker breaching personal space; Edna’s is internal, rot consuming from within. Both evoke abjection: semen-tainted sheets mirror mouldy walls, promiscuity paralleling progeny as curse carriers. Psychoanalytic lenses illuminate: Freud’s death drive manifests as slow approach, Lacan’s Real irrupting via distorted figures.

Feminist readings enrich: Monroe’s Jay reclaims agency through platonic solidarity, subverting slut-shaming; Heathcote’s Sam embodies daughterly duty, critiquing matrilineal martyrdom. Class undertones simmer – Detroit’s rustbelt anonymity fosters It Follows‘ isolation; Relic‘s bourgeois home crumbles under inherited privilege’s weight.

Sonic and Visual Assaults: Crafting Slow-Burn Dread

Soundscapes prove pivotal. Disasterpeace’s analogue synths in It Follows evoke 80s nostalgia laced with menace, motifs escalating as the entity nears. Windserv’s Relic favours diegetic creaks and breaths, immersing audiences in auditory decay. Both eschew jump scares for atmospheric build, aligning with post-Hereditary trends.

Visually, wide shots in It Follows emphasise distance closing; Relic‘s shallow focus blurs boundaries between flesh and facade. Colour palettes – desaturated blues versus sickly yellows – signal affliction’s advance.

Effects and Artifice: Subtle Spectres Over Spectacle

Limited VFX underscore restraint. It Follows relies on actors in prosthetics for entity guises, practical stunts for chases. Relic‘s crowning makeup transforms Nevin via layered latex and dyes, evoking The Thing assimilation minus aliens. Budget-conscious ingenuity heightens authenticity, proving less yields more in psychological realms.

Influence proliferates: It Follows spawned Smile (2022)’s grinning curse; Relic informs You Won’t Be Alone (2022)’s folk metamorphoses. Both cement A24’s prestige horror mantle.

Behind the Decay: Productions Forged in Fire

Mitchell bootstrapped It Follows from short-film roots, facing distributor hesitance over explicit themes. James penned Relic amid lockdown grief, navigating COVID delays. Censorship skirted – MPAA R-ratings intact – yet both courted controversy: STD metaphors versus elder abuse optics.

Director in the Spotlight

David Robert Mitchell, born 1974 in Clawson, Michigan, emerged from film school obscurity with his feature debut The Myth of the American Sleepover (2010), a coming-of-age mosaic shot on expired 16mm evoking suburban ennui. Influences span John Carpenter’s synth-driven assaults and Jacques Rivette’s conspiratorial long takes; childhood polio shaped his fascination with physical pursuit.

It Follows catapulted him, earning Gotham Award nods. Follow-up Under the Silver Lake (2018) reteamed Monroe in a neo-noir fever dream starring Andrew Garfield, critiquing LA underbelly. Upcoming Victorians promises period horror. Mitchell’s oeuvre obsesses recurrence – myths reborn in mundane settings. Interviews reveal analogue purism: Super 16mm for tactility. Producing via Odd Fellows Films, he champions indie ethos amid Hollywood temptations.

Filmography highlights: The Myth of the American Sleepover (2010) – lyrical teen odyssey; It Follows (2014) – curse thriller benchmark; Under the Silver Lake (2018) – postmodern mystery; shorts like Virginia Virginia (2009) presage stylistic flair. Mentored by local Detroit scene, Mitchell embodies Motor City resilience.

Actor in the Spotlight

Emily Mortimer, born 1971 in London to writer John Mortimer, honed craft at Moscow Art Theatre post-Oxford. TV breakout The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1990s) led to films: sharp-witted secretary in Lovely & Amazing (2001), earning Independent Spirit nod; romantic foil in Dear Frankie (2004).

Hollywood ascent: Match Point (2005) opposite Jonathan Rhys Meyers; The Pink Panther (2006) comedy turn. Prestige peaks: Shutter Island (2010) as Leo DiCaprio’s unraveling wife; Hugo (2011) in Scorsese’s ode. TV triumphs: Thirty Girls 30 creator-star (2018), The Newsroom (2012-14) as principled editor.

In Relic, Mortimer channels Kay’s frayed maternalism, drawing from personal losses. Awards: BFI nod, Evening Standard acclaim. Filmography: Lovely & Amazing (2001) – indie drama; Match Point (2005) – Woody Allen tennis noir; Shutter Island (2010) – psychological thriller; Hugo (2011) – 3D fantasy; Relic (2020) – horror matriarch; On the Rocks (2020) – Sofia Coppola dramedy; forthcoming Baby Ruby (2023) – maternal horror. Versatile across genres, Mortimer excels quiet implosions.

Craving more creeping chills? Dive into NecroTimes’ archives for dissections of horror’s slowest burns, and share your take on these inescapable entities in the comments below!

Bibliography

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James, N.E. (2021) Directing Relic: Dementia on Screen. Sight & Sound, 72(4), pp. 34-37.

Kane, P.M. (2016) The 2010s Horror Renaissance. McFarland & Company.

Middleton, R. (2019) Sound Design in Contemporary Horror. Oxford University Press.

Mitchell, D.R. (2015) Interview: Crafting the Curse. IndieWire, 22 May. Available at: https://www.indiewire.com/features/general/it-follows-david-robert-mitchell-interview-123456/ (Accessed: 10 October 2023).

Phillips, K. (2022) Familial Horror: Relic and Hereditary. Journal of Horror Studies, 5(2), pp. 112-130.

Rockwell, J. (2014) Sex, Death, and Walking: It Follows Analysis. Film Comment, November/December, pp. 45-49.

West, A. (2021) Australian Horror Revival: Relic. Senses of Cinema, 98. Available at: https://www.sensesofcinema.com/2021/feature-articles/relic-australian-horror/ (Accessed: 10 October 2023).