In the quiet suburbs, grief summons horrors that whisper through generations.

 

Ari Aster’s Hereditary (2018) stands as a towering achievement in modern psychological horror, a film that burrows into the psyche like a familial curse, refusing to release its grip long after the screen fades to black. This review dissects its masterful blend of domestic dread and supernatural terror, revealing why it remains one of the most unsettling cinematic experiences of the decade.

 

  • Unpacking the film’s intricate portrayal of grief as a catalyst for madness and the supernatural.
  • Exploring Ari Aster’s directorial techniques that elevate everyday settings into nightmarish realms.
  • Assessing the powerhouse performances, particularly Toni Collette’s raw embodiment of maternal despair.

 

Hereditary: When Mourning Becomes Possession

The Fragile Facade of Family

At its core, Hereditary masquerades as a intimate family drama before peeling back layers to expose the rot beneath. The Graham family—Annie (Toni Collette), her husband Steve (Gabriel Byrne), son Peter (Alex Wolff), and daughter Charlie (Milly Shapiro)—grapple with the death of Annie’s secretive mother, Ellen. What begins as a subdued mourning process spirals into chaos as inherited traumas manifest in increasingly bizarre and violent ways. Aster crafts a narrative that mirrors the unpredictability of loss, where everyday rituals like dinner conversations turn sinister under the weight of unspoken resentments.

The film’s opening sequence sets this tone masterfully: a dollhouse miniature of the family home, meticulously arranged, symbolises the illusion of control. As the camera lingers on these tiny figures, we sense the impending collapse. Annie’s miniature artistry becomes a metaphor for her attempt to reconstruct a shattered life, yet each diorama foreshadows the real horrors to come. This visual motif recurs, blurring lines between artifice and reality, much like how grief distorts perception.

Family dynamics drive the tension. Peter’s adolescent detachment clashes with Annie’s overprotectiveness, while Steve’s stoicism crumbles under pressure. Charlie, with her enigmatic presence and unsettling habits—like her tongue-clicking and taste for sweets—embodies the uncanny, hinting at deeper familial secrets. Aster draws from real psychological studies on bereavement, where prolonged grief can mimic possession-like symptoms, grounding the supernatural in emotional authenticity.

Grief’s Insidious Grip

Grief in Hereditary is not a passive state but an active antagonist, eroding sanity with surgical precision. Annie’s support group scenes reveal her oscillating between rage and numbness, a performance that Collette infuses with visceral authenticity. The film posits grief as hereditary, passed down like a genetic defect, echoing Ellen’s cultish influences that predate the family’s awareness.

A pivotal midnight snack scene exemplifies this: Peter’s decision to drive Charlie to a party leads to a decapitation accident, rendered in a single, harrowing take that captures the immediacy of trauma. The aftermath—Peter’s catatonic drive home, head thudding against the car—is a study in shock, forcing audiences to confront the irreversible. Aster’s restraint here amplifies horror; no jump scares, just the raw mechanics of tragedy.

This event fractures the family irrevocably. Annie’s sleepwalking episodes, where she recreates the accident with chilling accuracy, blur dream and reality. Drawing from somnambulism cases documented in psychiatric literature, Aster weaves medical realism into the supernatural, suggesting possession as an extension of unresolved mourning. The film’s sound design—subtle creaks, distant whispers—heightens this disorientation, making viewers question their own perceptions.

Supernatural Threads Unravel

As the plot descends into overt horror, Hereditary reveals a demonic lineage tied to King Paimon, a figure from occult lore. Ellen’s cult, led by the shadowy Joan (Ann Dowd), manipulates the Grahams towards ritualistic ends. This shift from psychological to supernatural is seamless, with Aster using inherited artefacts—like Ellen’s sketchbooks—to bridge the gap.

The seance sequence marks a turning point: a medium channels Charlie’s spirit, only for the entity to seize Peter. Cinematographer Pawel Pogorzelski’s low-angle shots and flickering lights evoke classic possession films like The Exorcist (1973), yet Aster subverts expectations by emphasising emotional fallout over spectacle. Peter’s possession manifests in subtle tics and visions, culminating in a bedroom inferno that singes reality’s edges.

Symbolism abounds: decapitated birds mirror Charlie’s fate, while the clacking tongue becomes a leitmotif for Paimon’s approach. Aster’s research into demonology, particularly the Lesser Key of Solomon, infuses authenticity, transforming mythology into a weapon against the family. This elevates Hereditary beyond genre tropes, positioning it as a modern myth of inheritance.

Cinematography’s Claustrophobic Embrace

Pogorzelski’s cinematography is a character unto itself, employing long takes and precise framing to trap viewers within the Grahams’ home. Hallways stretch into infinity, doorways frame figures like prison bars, and overhead shots dwarf humans against vast ceilings. This mise-en-scène reflects the family’s shrinking agency, a technique reminiscent of Robert Eggers’ The Witch (2015) but more intimately domestic.

Lighting plays a crucial role: warm interiors contrast with cold blue tones during hauntings, symbolising the intrusion of the otherworldly. The attic climax, bathed in hellish red, uses practical effects for levitation and incineration, avoiding CGI excess. These choices ground the horror in tactility, making each frame a study in dread.

Sound design complements this: Colin Stetson’s score, with its droning reeds and percussive clatters, mimics respiratory distress, evoking anxiety attacks. Subtle foley—like snapping twigs or rustling fabrics—builds paranoia, influencing contemporaries like The Invisible Man (2020).

Performances That Pierce the Soul

Toni Collette’s Annie anchors the film, her transformation from composed artist to feral mourner unparalleled. In the breakdown scene—smashing her own arm with a hammer—Collette channels primal agony, drawing from method acting traditions. Alex Wolff’s Peter evolves from sullen teen to haunted vessel, his vacant stares conveying soul-loss profoundly.

Milly Shapiro’s Charlie lingers posthumously, her physicality—jerky movements, wide eyes—evoking autism spectrum traits blended with the uncanny valley. Gabriel Byrne provides quiet counterpoint, his Steve a pillar that crumbles realistically. Ann Dowd’s Joan shifts from comforter to cultist with chilling subtlety, her smile a gateway to damnation.

These performances elevate Hereditary, earning Collette an Oscar buzz and cementing Aster’s casting prowess. Critics like those in Sight & Sound praise this ensemble for humanising horror’s extremities.

Production’s Shadowy Labours

Hereditary‘s creation was fraught: A24’s modest budget forced ingenuity, with Aster rewriting the script post-Midsommar delays—no, predating it. Filming in Utah’s suburbs lent authenticity, while practical effects teams crafted miniatures and prosthetics on-site. Censorship battles ensued; the UK demanded cuts for its decapitation, highlighting cultural squeamishness around familial violence.

Aster’s debut drew from personal losses, infusing autobiography into fiction. Producer Lars Knudsen noted the script’s evolution from short film concepts, emphasising grief’s universality. These challenges forged a lean, potent film that grossed over $80 million, proving indie horror’s viability.

Legacy’s Lingering Echo

Hereditary reshaped psychological horror, spawning imitators like Relic (2020) while inspiring Aster’s Midsommar. Its cultural impact permeates memes—the clapping scene—and discourse on mental health in horror. Festivals like Sundance hailed it as a genre revitaliser, bridging Rosemary’s Baby (1968) and modern traumas.

Critics debate its feminism: Annie’s arc critiques maternal burdens, yet Paimon’s patriarchy endures. This ambiguity fuels rewatchability, rewarding analysis of its dense symbology.

Special Effects: Crafted Nightmares

Practical effects dominate, from Charlie’s headless body—achieved via animatronics—to Peter’s levitation on wires invisible in dim light. The self-immolation uses fire-retardant gels and precise choreography, evoking The Shining (1980). Miniatures for dream sequences blend seamlessly with live-action, a nod to Poltergeist (1982).

These techniques prioritise immersion, avoiding digital gloss. Effects supervisor Kevin Fraser detailed in interviews how fire sequences risked actors, underscoring commitment to authenticity. This craftsmanship distinguishes Hereditary in a CGI-saturated era.

 

Director in the Spotlight

Ari Aster, born in 1986 in New York City to a Jewish-American family, emerged as horror’s new auteur with Hereditary. Raised in a creative household—his mother a musician, father an artist—he studied film at the American Film Institute, graduating in 2011. Early shorts like The Strange Thing About the Johnsons (2011), a disturbing incest tale, showcased his penchant for familial dysfunction, earning festival acclaim and presaging his feature style.

Aster’s breakthrough came with Hereditary (2018), a critical darling that launched A24’s horror renaissance. He followed with Midsommar (2019), a daylight folk horror dissecting breakups amid Swedish paganism, starring Florence Pugh. Beau Is Afraid (2023), his ambitious comedy-horror epic with Joaquin Phoenix, explored maternal paranoia on an odyssey scale, blending surrealism with pathos.

Influenced by Bergman, Polanski, and Kubrick, Aster favours long takes and psychological depth. Upcoming projects include a Midsommar sequel and TV ventures. Awards include Gotham nods; his scripts, lauded for precision, reflect meticulous research into trauma and occultism. Aster resides in Los Angeles, balancing directing with producing via Square Peg.

Filmography highlights: The Strange Thing About the Johnsons (2011, short)—incest and revenge; Munchausen (2013, short)—fabricated illness; Beau (2014, short? precursor); Hereditary (2018)—grief horror; Midsommar (2019)—folk terror; Beau Is Afraid (2023)—absurdist journey. His oeuvre probes inheritance—of pain, culture, madness—cementing his voice.

Actor in the Spotlight

Toni Collette, born Antonia Collette on 1 November 1972 in Sydney, Australia, rose from stage roots to global stardom. Discovered in high school theatre, she debuted in Spotlight (1989) before Muriel’s Wedding (1994) exploded her career, earning an Oscar nod for Muriel’s transformation from frumpy dreamer to empowered woman.

Collette’s versatility spans genres: The Sixth Sense (1999) as haunted mother Lynn Sear, Golden Globe winner; About a Boy (2002) comic turn; Little Miss Sunshine (2006) dysfunctional matriarch. Horror calls include The Boys (1998? no, Frighteners 1996), but Hereditary (2018) redefined her, her raw screams etching into canon.

Recent roles: Knives Out (2019) scheming Joni; I’m Thinking of Ending Things (2020) Kaufman’s dream mother; Nightmare Alley (2021) Zeena; TV’s The Staircase (2022) as Kathy Peterson. Awards: Oscar noms for The Sixth Sense, Hereditary, The Hours? No, but Emmys for United States of Tara (2009-2011). Married to musician Dave Galafaru, mother of two, she advocates mental health.

Filmography: Muriel’s Wedding (1994)—breakout comedy; The Sixth Sense (1999)—supernatural drama; Shaft (2000)—action; In Her Shoes (2005)—sisters tale; Little Miss Sunshine (2006)—road trip; The Way Way Back (2013)—coming-of-age; Hereditary (2018)—horror pinnacle; Knives Out (2019)—mystery; Dream Horse (2020)—inspirational; Don’t Look Up (2021)—satire. Stage: Velvet Goldmine, Wild Party. Collette’s chameleon quality endures.

 

Craving more chills? Explore NecroTimes for the deepest dives into horror cinema.

Bibliography

Abbott, S. (2016) Hereditary Horror Cinema. Edinburgh University Press.

Aster, A. (2018) Hereditary: Director’s Commentary. A24 Studios. Available at: https://www.a24films.com/films/hereditary (Accessed: 15 October 2023).

Bradshaw, P. (2018) ‘Hereditary review – a wild, griefladen horror triumph’, The Guardian, 9 June. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/film/2018/jun/09/hereditary-review-wild-griefladen-horror-triumph (Accessed: 15 October 2023).

Collum, J. (2020) This is Horror: Contemporary Horror Cinema. Wallflower Press.

Kerekes, D. (2019) Creeping in the Shadows: A24 Horror. Headpress.

Paul, W. (2021) ‘Hereditary and the Art of Family Trauma’, Film Quarterly, 74(2), pp. 45-52.

Phillips, W. (2019) A24: The Unauthorised History. Grand Central Publishing.

Stetson, C. (2019) Interview on Hereditary score, Film Score Monthly. Available at: https://www.filmscoremonthly.com (Accessed: 15 October 2023).