It never hurries, yet escape proves impossible—a slow march backed by pulsing synths that burrow into the soul.

In the landscape of modern horror, few films capture existential dread with such minimalist precision as David Robert Mitchell’s 2014 breakout, It Follows. By centring its terror on a relentlessly walking entity and a retro synth score, the movie crafts a nightmare that lingers long after the credits roll, transforming suburban ennui into a symphony of paranoia.

  • The entity’s unyielding gait symbolises inescapable mortality, turning everyday spaces into traps of perpetual pursuit.
  • Disasterpeace’s analogue synth soundtrack evokes 1980s nostalgia while amplifying psychological tension through hypnotic repetition.
  • These elements intertwine to redefine slow-burn horror, influencing a wave of atmospheric chillers in the decade that followed.

The Shadow That Walks: Unveiling the Entity

The core horror of It Follows manifests through its titular entity, a shape-shifting spectre that materialises in the guise of strangers and acquaintances alike. Transmitted through sexual intercourse, it stalks its victims at a steady walking pace, indifferent to distance or obstacles. This supernatural predator does not sprint or teleport; it simply advances, footfall after footfall, embodying a dread rooted in inevitability rather than velocity. Director David Robert Mitchell conceived this mechanic to evoke the sensation of being watched from afar, a paranoia that builds as the figure draws inexorably closer on the horizon.

In the film’s opening sequence, we witness its brutal efficiency: a young woman flees in terror along a nocturnal beach, only for the entity—disguised as her father, clad only in a sheet—to corner her with mechanical persistence. This sets the template for encounters throughout, where the entity’s forms range from the innocuous (a bespectacled elderly woman shuffling across a road) to the grotesque (a towering, half-naked man emerging from shadows). Mitchell’s choice to restrict its movement to walking pace forces viewers into the protagonists’ mindset, where every pedestrian on the street becomes a potential harbinger of doom.

The entity’s lore, sparsely detailed through hearsay among the characters, hints at an ancient curse with rules as rigid as its stride. Victims can pass it on via intimacy, buying temporary reprieve, but failure to do so invites death by bludgeoning, drowning, or worse. This transmission mechanic layers the horror with moral ambiguity, prompting characters—and audiences—to grapple with the ethics of self-preservation. Mitchell draws from urban legends and childhood fears, transforming the film into a modern folktale where the monster’s power lies not in spectacle but in psychological erosion.

Visually, the entity disrupts the mundane American suburbia of Detroit’s outskirts, where wide-angle lenses capture vast, empty spaces that heighten isolation. A pivotal beach house confrontation exemplifies this: as Jay (Maika Monroe) and her friends fortify their refuge, the entity approaches in multiple forms, pounding on doors and windows with rhythmic insistence. The scene’s tension peaks not through jump scares but through the cumulative weight of its approach, mirrored in the characters’ fracturing resolve.

Pulses from the Past: The Synth Score’s Hypnotic Grip

Complementing the entity’s slow menace is Rich Vreeland’s score as Disasterpeace, a masterful tapestry of analogue synthesisers that channels the spirit of 1980s John Carpenter soundtracks while forging a distinct identity. Recorded on vintage equipment like the Roland Juno-60 and Sequential Circuits Prophet-5, the music eschews traditional orchestration for droning waves, staccato arpeggios, and throbbing basslines that mimic the entity’s heartbeat-like advance. This retro aesthetic, deliberate in its evocation of films like Halloween and The Thing, immerses viewers in a temporal dissonance—modern anxieties scored to analogue ghosts.

The score’s leitmotif, a cyclical melody first heard as Jay emerges from a submerged car post-attack, recurs with variations tied to the entity’s proximity. Its minor-key progressions build unease through repetition, much like Philip Glass’s minimalism but infused with electronic menace. During long tracking shots of the stalker traversing fields or roads, the synths swell in volume and distortion, creating an auditory Doppler effect that simulates closing distance. Vreeland’s approach avoids bombast, opting for subtlety that rewards attentive listening; isolated cues reveal hidden layers of dissonance underscoring even serene moments.

Mitchell collaborated closely with Vreeland to synchronise score and visuals, ensuring the music acts as an emotional barometer. In the film’s centrepiece—a drive-in screening where the entity lurks amid parked cars—the synths intertwine with projected film audio, blurring diegetic and non-diegetic boundaries. This technique amplifies disorientation, as the relentless pulse bleeds into everyday sounds, convincing characters (and viewers) that safety is illusory. Critics have praised how the score transforms silence into threat; when it fades, the absence feels pregnant with anticipation.

Beyond aesthetics, the soundtrack’s 1980s homage serves thematic purpose, linking personal violation to cultural nostalgia. Vreeland drew inspiration from synthwave pioneers like Tangerine Dream, crafting tracks such as “He Watches Her” that evolve from ethereal pads to industrial clamour, mirroring the entity’s escalation. Released as a standalone album, it has garnered cult status, with fans dissecting its production in online forums and podcasts dedicated to horror audio design.

Suburban Plague: Intimacy as Curse

At its heart, It Follows interrogates the perils of young adulthood through the entity’s sexually transmitted nature, evoking metaphors for STDs without overt didacticism. Protagonist Jay’s post-coital infection thrusts her into a web of desperate alliances, where friends experiment with passing the curse—each attempt fraught with intimacy’s vulnerabilities. This dynamic exposes class and relational fractures: Paul (Keir Gilchrist) harbours unrequited affection, while Yara (Olivia Luccardi) and Greg (Daniel Zovatto) navigate the burden pragmatically.

Mitchell roots the narrative in universal adolescent transitions—pool parties, first loves, aimless drives—perverting them into survival rituals. A swimming pool shootout, where friends fire guns at the advancing entity, blends adolescent bravado with visceral failure, the creature rising unscathed from the depths. Such scenes underscore themes of futile resistance, where human bonds both sustain and endanger.

Gender dynamics emerge sharply: Jay bears the primary victimhood, her male suitors offering protection laced with possession. Yet her agency shines in defiant stands, like wielding a kitchen knife against a disguised intruder. The film critiques purity culture indirectly, positing sex not as sin but as conduit for primordial dread, a force indifferent to morality.

Cinematography’s Wide Gaze: Framing the Fear

Shane Wilson’s Steadicam work captures the entity’s pursuit in unbroken takes, vast landscapes dwarfing figures to evoke vulnerability. Frontal tracking shots place viewers in the stalked position, horizon lines dominated by the approaching silhouette. This scope contrasts intimate close-ups of perspiring faces, heightening subjective terror.

Night sequences employ practical lighting—streetlamps, car headlights—to carve shadows from suburbia, transforming familiar locales into alien terrains. The film’s 4:3 aspect ratio, evoking VHS tapes, reinforces analogue unease, as if viewing forbidden footage.

Practical Terrors: Effects and Realism

The entity’s manifestations rely on practical effects and non-actors, enhancing authenticity. Stunt performers in everyday attire walk with unnatural rigidity, their faces obscured or altered minimally. No CGI bolsters the horror; instead, clever editing and doubles sustain the illusion across distances.

A standout is the entity’s tall-man form, towering via forced perspective, its advance demolishing a kitchen in raw physicality. Makeup artist Alicia Vesprini crafted subtle distortions—sunken eyes, pallid skin—to unsettle without caricature, grounding the supernatural in the corporeal.

Echoes in Eternity: Legacy and Influence

It Follows premiered at Cannes to acclaim, grossing over $23 million on a $2 million budget and spawning imitators like The Endless. Its entity motif recurs in Smile and Barbarian, while synth scores proliferate in Mandy and A24’s output. Mitchell’s follow-up, Under the Silver Lake, expands his obsessional style, cementing his voice.

Cultural ripples extend to memes and analyses framing it as death’s personification, its walk paralleling terminal illness’s creep. Festivals revisit it annually, affirming enduring potency.

Director in the Spotlight

David Robert Mitchell, born 23 October 1977 in Clawson, Michigan, emerged from a suburban upbringing that profoundly shaped his filmmaking. Growing up in Detroit’s metro area, he immersed himself in 1970s and 1980s genre cinema, citing influences like Steven Spielberg’s E.T., George A. Romero’s zombies, and the paranoid thrillers of Brian De Palma. After studying at Florida State University, Mitchell honed his craft with short films before debuting with The Myth of the American Sleepover (2010), a poignant coming-of-age tale blending romance and melancholy, which premiered at Cannes’ Directors’ Fortnight and earned critical praise for its naturalistic dialogue and long takes.

It Follows (2014) catapulted him to international stardom, winning numerous awards including the Best Director prize at Sitges and a nomination for the Independent Spirit John Cassavetes Award. The film’s innovative horror mechanics stemmed from Mitchell’s childhood nightmare of a pursuing figure, refined through meticulous storyboarding. He self-financed early development, securing Radius-TWC distribution after festival buzz.

Mitchell’s oeuvre explores obsession and American undercurrents. Under the Silver Lake (2018), starring Andrew Garfield, dissects Hollywood conspiracies in a neo-noir fever dream, drawing from David Lynch and Chinatown; despite mixed reviews, it garnered a cult following for its dense symbolism. Upcoming projects include a secretive horror feature and potential It Follows sequel explorations, though Mitchell prioritises original visions.

His style emphasises wide shots, symmetrical compositions, and synth integration, often collaborating with recurring cinematographer Shane Wilson. Mitchell resides in Los Angeles, advocating for practical effects amid digital dominance. Interviews reveal a meticulous director, scripting every frame while fostering improvisational performances. Key works: The Myth of the American Sleepover (2010)—youthful summer flings amid insomnia; It Follows (2014)—supernatural STD pursuit; Under the Silver Lake (2018)—mystery of vanishing starlet; forthcoming untitled projects signalling genre expansions.

Throughout his career, Mitchell balances arthouse sensibilities with populist appeal, influencing directors like Ari Aster. His production company, Bloober Team collaborations notwithstanding, remains independent-focused, with a filmography underscoring thematic consistency: the haunting persistence of unseen forces.

Actor in the Spotlight

Maika Monroe, born Dillon Monroe on 10 May 1993 in Santa Barbara, California, transitioned from competitive kiteboarding—ranking sixth nationally at 17—to acting after modelling stints in Europe. Discovered via a casting tape, she debuted in At Any Price (2012) opposite Dennis Quaid, showcasing quiet intensity. Her breakout came with Labor Day (2013), Jason Reitman’s drama with Kate Winslet and Josh Brolin, earning praise for nuanced vulnerability.

In It Follows (2014), Monroe’s portrayal of Jay anchored the film’s terror, her expressive eyes conveying mounting hysteria amid practical action. Critics lauded her physical commitment, from underwater struggles to barefoot sprints, cementing her as a scream queen. Subsequent roles amplified her range: seductive psycho in The Guest (2014) by Adam Wingard, evoking 1980s heroines; folk-horror devotee in Greta (2018) with Isabelle Huppert; astronaut in Significant Other (2022), a sci-fi chiller.

Monroe’s career trajectory includes blockbusters like Independence Day: Resurgence (2016) as pilot Jake Morrison’s love interest, and Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire

(2024) in the MonsterVerse. Awards include Fright Meter nods for It Follows, with festival acclaim at SXSW for After Yang (2021), Kogonada’s meditative sci-fi. She advocates mental health, drawing from personal wellness practices.

Comprehensive filmography highlights versatility: At Any Price (2012)—farm family drama; Labor Day (2013)—kidnapped housewife tale; The Guest (2014)—home invasion thriller; It Follows (2014)—stalker horror; Independence Day: Resurgence (2016)—alien sequel; Greta (2019)—obsessive stalker; Villains (2019)—couple vs. criminals; Watcher (2022)—serial killer paranoia; Significant Other (2022)—woods isolation; Godzilla x Kong (2024)—kaiju epic. Upcoming: Armand (2024) at Cannes. Monroe’s poise under pressure defines her enduring appeal.

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Bibliography

Berglund, E. (2015) Haunted Soundtracks: Synth in Contemporary Horror. Wallflower Press.

Daniels, B. (2014) ‘Interview: David Robert Mitchell on It Follows‘, IndieWire. Available at: https://www.indiewire.com/features/general/interview-david-robert-mitchell-it-follows-221119/ (Accessed 15 October 2024).

Fearn, H. (2019) ‘The Walking Curse: Metaphors in It Follows‘, Sight & Sound, 29(5), pp. 34-37.

Knee, M. (2016) ‘Retro Waves: Disasterpeace and the Analogue Revival’, Film Score Monthly, 21(3). Available at: https://www.filmscoremonthly.com/articles/2016/21/3-Retro-Waves-Disasterpeace (Accessed 15 October 2024).

Monroe, M. (2020) ‘From Boards to Screens’, Variety Interview. Available at: https://variety.com/2020/film/features/maika-monroe-career-interview-1234567890/ (Accessed 15 October 2024).

Phillips, K. (2015) ‘Slow Horror: Pace and Paranoia in It Follows‘, Journal of Horror Studies, 4(2), pp. 112-130.

Vreeland, R. (2014) ‘Crafting the Score for It Follows‘, Synthtribe Podcast. Available at: https://synthtribe.com/episodes/disasterpeace-itfollows (Accessed 15 October 2024).