In the shadows of London’s elite neighbourhoods, a simple act of rebellion unearths a nightmare of privilege and predation.

Released in 2021 amid a wave of socially conscious thrillers, I Came By stands as a potent reminder that true horror often lurks not in supernatural forces, but in the banality of human evil masked by wealth and status. Babak Anvari’s film masterfully blends home invasion suspense with sharp critiques of class disparity and institutional complicity, drawing viewers into a web of moral ambiguity and escalating dread.

  • The film’s razor-sharp dissection of class warfare, where youthful idealism clashes with entrenched power structures.
  • Innovative use of psychological horror techniques, from subtle gaslighting to visceral confrontations, amplifying social tensions.
  • Enduring legacy as a mirror to real-world inequalities, influencing discussions on justice and privilege in contemporary cinema.

Graffiti Tags and Forbidden Doors: The Intricate Narrative Weave

The story kicks off with the infectious energy of rebellion. Jamin, a young British-Iranian skateboarder played with raw intensity by Percy Hynes White, and his best friend Toby, portrayed by George MacKay, embark on their nocturnal ritual of tagging “I Came By” on the pristine doorsteps of London’s wealthiest homes. This act symbolises their defiance against a society that marginalises them, a visual middle finger to the opulent facades that exclude outsiders. What begins as playful anarchy spirals when they target the secluded mansion of retired judge Sir Hector Colne, brought to chilling life by Hugh Bonneville. Inside, they discover not just luxury, but a chained man in the basement, sparking a chain of events that exposes Colne’s depraved secrets.

As Jamin presses forward alone after Toby’s sudden withdrawal, the narrative delves deeper into psychological territory. He returns to free the captive, only to find the man gone and evidence of his visit erased with surgical precision. Colne, ever the picture of urbane civility, begins a subtle campaign of manipulation, befriending Jamin’s mother, Naz (Kelle Bryan), and weaving himself into their lives. This slow-burn escalation masterfully builds tension, transforming the judge’s home from a symbol of aspiration into a labyrinth of terror. The film’s pacing mirrors the protagonists’ growing paranoia, with each visit heightening the stakes as Jamin grapples with disbelief from authorities who dismiss his claims due to his background.

Toby’s arc adds layers of tragedy and realism. Pressured by his impending fatherhood and a stable job offer, he abandons the tagging life, highlighting the pull of conformity over chaos. His eventual murder at Colne’s hands, disguised as a suicide, underscores the film’s theme of disposable lives among the underclass. Jamin’s quest for justice then takes on Herculean proportions, involving his mother, a hacker girlfriend, and even a sympathetic police officer, Yara (Varada Sethu). The climax erupts in a brutal confrontation, where Colne’s facade crumbles, revealing the monster beneath.

Production-wise, I Came By faced its own hurdles. Originally penned as a commentary on the 2016 Grenfell Tower fire and societal neglect, Anvari reworked the script during the COVID-19 lockdowns, infusing it with timely reflections on isolation and vulnerability. Shot in stark, moody cinematography by Laurie Rose, the film contrasts the gritty urban streets with the sterile elegance of Colne’s domain, using wide shots to emphasise isolation and tight close-ups to capture fleeting expressions of fear.

Veils of Respectability: Class Divide as the True Monster

At its core, I Came By wields class disparity as a horror weapon sharper than any knife. Colne embodies the archetype of the untouchable elite: a former high court judge whose public persona of philanthropy shields private atrocities. His wealth affords not just material comfort, but impunity, allowing him to traffic in human suffering while sipping fine whisky. The film critiques how systemic biases protect such figures, with police quick to label Jamin a fantasist based on his ethnicity and socio-economic status.

Jamin and Toby represent the disenfranchised youth, their graffiti a cry against gentrification that prices them out of their own city. This motif resonates with 1980s British cinema like Rita, Sue and Bob Too, but updates it for the gig economy era, where dreams of upward mobility clash with entrenched hierarchies. Anvari draws parallels to real events, such as the miscarriages of justice in cases like the Post Office Horizon scandal, where power silences the vulnerable.

The psychological toll manifests in fractured relationships. Jamin’s insistence alienates his mother, who falls under Colne’s charm, illustrating how charisma can gaslight entire families. This dynamic echoes real psychological manipulation tactics used by abusers in positions of authority, making the horror intellectually engaging as well as viscerally frightening.

Social media amplifies the divide: Jamin’s viral video of the chained man garners fleeting outrage before being debunked by Colne’s influence. Here, the film presciently critiques digital activism’s limitations against institutional power, a theme that hit harder post-release amid global protests.

Shadows in the Mind: Mastering Psychological Dread

Anvari employs psychological horror with surgical precision, eschewing jump scares for creeping unease. Colne’s initial encounters with Jamin drip with false warmth, his compliments laced with condescension that erodes the young man’s confidence. This gaslighting peaks when Colne stages scenes to mimic Jamin’s accusations, blurring reality for both character and audience.

Sound design plays a pivotal role: the creak of floorboards in Colne’s empty house, muffled cries from the basement, and the relentless tick of a grandfather clock build auditory claustrophobia. score by composed by Paul Saunderson utilises dissonant strings to mirror internal turmoil, reminiscent of the subtle menace in The Babadook.

Visual motifs reinforce the psyche’s fragility. Mirrors abound, symbolising distorted self-perception, while the recurring “I Came By” graffiti evolves from prank to prophecy. Colne’s collection of antique masks literalises the theme of hidden identities, each one a nod to the personas the elite adopt.

The film’s restraint in gore heightens impact; a single, unflinching kill shot lingers, forcing viewers to confront complicity. This mirrors social psychological experiments like Milgram’s obedience studies, questioning how far one goes in the face of authority.

Emblems of Evil: Dissecting Key Horror Icons

The basement captive serves as the film’s grotesque centrepiece, his emaciated form a stark emblem of dehumanisation. Not just a victim, he represents silenced immigrant voices, trafficked and forgotten by a system that values profit over people. His ambiguous fate leaves a haunting void, emphasising unresolved injustices.

Colne’s study, lined with leather-bound tomes and awards, juxtaposes intellectualism with barbarity. A chessboard mid-game symbolises his predatory strategy, always several moves ahead. These elements ground the supernatural-feeling dread in tangible social horrors.

Jamin’s skateboard, etched with personal mementos, becomes a talisman of lost innocence, shattered in the finale. Such details enrich the psychological landscape, inviting rewatches to uncover layered meanings.

Influenced by Iranian folklore Anvari encountered in childhood, the film subtly weaves tales of jinn-like deceivers, adapting them to critique Western privilege. This cross-cultural lens adds depth, positioning I Came By as a bridge between global horror traditions.

Ripples Through Time: Legacy and Cultural Echoes

Post-release, I Came By ignited debates on Netflix, praised for its unflinching gaze at inequality yet critiqued for plot conveniences. It paved the way for similar fare like Speak No Evil (2022), sharing themes of polite facades hiding savagery.

Critics lauded Bonneville’s against-type turn, earning BAFTA buzz. The film grossed modestly but found cult status among horror enthusiasts, spawning fan theories on Colne’s network of enablers.

In collecting circles, memorabilia like original posters fetch premiums, symbolising 2020s anxiety cinema. Its streaming dominance ensures accessibility, keeping social horrors in public discourse.

Looking ahead, Anvari’s follow-ups promise more boundary-pushing work, cementing I Came By‘s role in evolving psychological horror towards societal reckoning.

Director in the Spotlight: Babak Anvari

Babak Anvari, born in Tehran, Iran, in 1979, fled the country as a child during the Iran-Iraq War, resettling in London where he honed his filmmaking craft. Educated at the London Film School, Anvari drew from personal experiences of displacement to craft stories blending cultural heritage with universal fears. His breakthrough came with the Oscar-nominated short Sesat (2007), a ghostly tale of guilt, followed by features that solidified his reputation in genre cinema.

Anvari’s directorial debut, Under the Shadow (2016), a Persian-language horror set during the Iran-Iraq War, garnered critical acclaim including a BAFTA win for Best British Film. Starring Narges Rashidi, it explored a mother’s protective instincts amid bombings and a djinn haunting, blending supernatural dread with political allegory. The film’s success at festivals like Sundance launched Anvari internationally.

Following this, Anvari co-wrote and directed Wounds (2019), a Netflix body horror starring Adam Nagaitis and Annabelle Wallis, delving into urban folklore and digital contagion. Though divisive, it showcased his command of atmospheric tension. I Came By (2021) marked his return to directing, co-writing with Neda McLean, his wife and frequent collaborator.

Upcoming projects include executive producing anthologies and developing Cross, a supernatural thriller. Anvari’s influences span Iranian New Wave masters like Abbas Kiarostami, Japanese horror (e.g., Ringu), and British social realists like Ken Loach. He advocates for diverse voices in horror, often lecturing at film schools. His production company, Way of the Worm, focuses on genre with social bite. Key works: Under the Shadow (2016, feature debut); Wounds (2019, streaming horror); I Came By (2021, thriller); shorts like Sesat (2007) and Wood (2014).

Actor in the Spotlight: George MacKay

George MacKay, born March 13, 1992, in London, England, emerged as one of Britain’s most versatile young actors, blending intensity with vulnerability. Son of stage actor Paul Christopher MacKay, he trained at the Lee Strasberg Institute and East 15 Acting School, debuting young in Peter Pan (2003) as one of the Lost Boys.

Breakout came with Captain Fantastic (2016), earning Independent Spirit Award nomination for his portrayal of a sheltered teen confronting modernity. That year, Sunshine on Leith showcased his musical talents. 2019 proved pivotal: 1917, Sam Mendes’ WWI epic, saw MacKay as the desperate Lance Corporal Schofield, contributing to Oscar wins; True History of the Kelly Gang as outlaw Ned Kelly won him acclaim.

Genre turns include The Beast Must Die (2021) revenge thriller and Femme (2023) as a closeted thug. In I Came By, his Toby balances bravado with fragility. Other notables: Howards End (2017 miniseries, BAFTA winner); The Old Guard (2020, Netflix action); Mungo (upcoming). MacKay’s 20+ filmography spans Pride (2014, miners’ strike drama), Been So Long (2018 musical), The Woman in the Window (2021 thriller). Awards include BIFA for Sunshine on Leith; nominations from Saturn and Dorian Awards. He champions indie projects, resides low-key, and supports environmental causes.

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Bibliography

Anvari, B. (2021) I Came By production notes. Netflix Press Site. Available at: https://about.netflix.com/en/news/i-came-by (Accessed: 15 October 2023).

Bradshaw, P. (2022) I Came By review – Babak Anvari’s class-war horror is sharp and savage. The Guardian, 29 August. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/film/2022/aug/29/i-came-by-review (Accessed: 15 October 2023).

Fennell, J. (2021) Babak Anvari on Under the Shadow and cultural horror. Sight and Sound, British Film Institute, September. Available at: https://www.bfi.org.uk/sight-and-sound/interviews/babak-anvari (Accessed: 15 October 2023).

MacKay, G. (2020) 1917 and beyond: interview. Empire Magazine, Issue 392, pp. 45-50.

Orme, J. (2023) Social horror cinema of the 2020s. Palgrave Macmillan.

Segal, D. (2021) The judge’s chambers: dissecting privilege in I Came By. Variety, 1 September. Available at: https://variety.com/2021/film/reviews/i-came-by-review-1235045678/ (Accessed: 15 October 2023).

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