Nothing shreds the soul like a marriage possessed by unseen demons.

 

Two films stand as towering monuments to the terror lurking within wedlock: Andrzej Żuławski’s Possession (1981) and Ari Aster’s Hereditary (2018). Both transform the intimate agonies of failing relationships into visceral horror spectacles, where supernatural forces amplify the rot at the heart of domestic life. This comparison unearths the shared dread they evoke, from hallucinatory body horror to the inexorable pull of familial curses.

 

  • Both movies weaponise possession as a metaphor for marital collapse, turning lovers into antagonists through grotesque transformations.
  • Lead actresses deliver tour-de-force performances that blur sanity and monstrosity, anchoring the emotional devastation.
  • These works redefine psychological horror by rooting supernatural scares in authentic relational fractures, influencing a new wave of family-centred terrors.

 

Berlin’s Fractured Union: The Madness of Mark and Anna

In Possession, Żuławski crafts a fever dream of divorce amid the divided soul of Cold War West Berlin. Sam Neill portrays Mark, a spy returning home to find his wife Anna (Isabelle Adjani) unraveling. She confesses an affair but refuses specifics, spiraling into paranoia and violence. Mark hires a detective, uncovers her subterranean lair, and witnesses horrors that defy rationality. Anna births a tentacled abomination from her anguish, a pulsating mass of flesh that embodies her revulsion towards Mark. The film crescendos in mutual destruction, with doppelgangers emerging as corrupted reflections of their bond. Żuławski shot on location in the city’s drab apartments and U-Bahn tunnels, capturing the claustrophobia of a marriage trapped between walls—both literal and ideological.

The narrative pulses with raw autobiography; Żuławski penned the script during his own bitter separation from actress Malgorzata Braunek. This personal venom infuses every frame, making Anna’s descent feel like a primal scream against patriarchal constraints. Her infamous subway miscarriage scene—slamming against tiles in a torrent of fluids—symbolises the expulsion of a tainted union. Mark’s obsession mirrors real spousal surveillance, escalating to grotesque experiments. The creature, a practical effects marvel by Carlo Rambaldi’s team, writhes with phallic aggression, representing the invasive other that supplants their intimacy. Berlin’s checkpoints parallel their emotional Iron Curtain, where escape proves illusory.

Żuławski’s direction favours long, unbroken takes that mimic hysterical fits, forcing viewers to endure the couple’s warfare. Sound design amplifies isolation: echoing drips in Anna’s hideout, guttural moans from the beast. The film’s ban in the UK for its intensity underscores its power to unsettle, positioning marriage not as sanctuary but slaughterhouse.

Inheritance of Agony: The Grahams’ Doomed Kinship

Ari Aster’s Hereditary transplants marital strife into a lineage cursed by matriarchal secrets. Toni Collette dominates as Annie Graham, a miniaturist grieving her manipulative mother Ellen’s death. Her husband Steve (Gabriel Byrne) fades into quiet denial, while son Peter (Alex Wolff) and eerie daughter Charlie (Milly Shapiro) fracture under inherited trauma. Decapitation, spontaneous combustion, and decapitated heads herald Paimon’s demonic takeover, a king summoned by Ellen’s cult. Aster intercuts domestic rituals—dinners turning profane—with glimpses of occult lore, revealing Annie’s marriage as collateral in a predestined ritual.

The plot methodically dismantles the family unit, starting with Charlie’s asthma-stricken tragedy and escalating to Annie’s sleepwalking possession. Steve’s incineration marks the husband’s erasure, leaving Annie to confront her bloodline’s horrors. Miniatures, Annie’s artistic obsession, mirror the family’s entrapment in miniature fates, crafted with meticulous set design by Grace Yun. Paimon’s sigils hide in plain sight, etched into heirlooms and shadows, foreshadowing the Graham home as infernal temple.

Aster draws from his own familial anxieties, infusing the script with therapy-speak that exposes relational fault lines. The film’s slow-burn builds dread through mundane grief, exploding into kinetic chaos. Cinematographer Pawel Pogorzelski employs shallow focus to isolate faces amid opulent decay, the Oregon house a mausoleum of unresolved resentments. Hereditary grossed over $80 million on a $10 million budget, proving audiences crave horror that excavates the psyche’s depths.

Metaphors of Monstrosity: Possession as the Ultimate Betrayal

Both films deploy possession not as external invasion but internal eruption from relational toxins. In Possession, Anna’s lover manifests physically—a slimy, multi-limbed horror birthed in agony—externalising her hatred for Mark’s control. This creature devours and regenerates, insatiable as marital discord. Hereditary counters with Paimon’s insidious ingress, hijacking bodies through suggestion and ritual. Annie’s levitations and self-mutilations echo Anna’s spasms, both women vessels for forces born of spousal alienation.

Marriage emerges as the true demon: Mark and Anna’s union sours into sadomasochistic rituals, while Steve and Annie’s polite detachment crumbles under grief’s weight. Supernatural elements amplify emotional truths—infidelity as literal metamorphosis, loss as decapitating curse. These narratives reject redemption, positing love’s failure as apocalyptic.

Class undertones sharpen the blade. Mark’s espionage world contrasts Anna’s bohemian rebellion, mirroring Berlin’s divides. The Grahams’ affluence insulates yet amplifies isolation, their wealth funding occult escapes. Both critique heteronormative bonds, with women bearing the monstrous burden.

Body Horror in the Bedroom: Effects that Scar

Practical effects ground the intangible in grotesque tangibility. Possession‘s beast, sculpted from latex and animatronics, convulses with hydraulic pumps, its tentacles probing Anna’s form in parodies of copulation. Rambaldi’s legacy from Alien ensures visceral authenticity, blood and bile flooding the frame. Żuławski’s unhinged choreography makes every squelch intimate.

Hereditary favours subtlety escalating to extremes: prosthetic heads roll with uncanny realism, courtesy of Spectral Motion. Charlie’s decapitated form, feathers protruding from the neck, blends taxidermy horror with familial craft. Annie’s clanging teeth in possession utilise dental appliances for auditory revulsion. Aster blends CGI sparingly for levitations, preserving tactile terror.

These effects transcend gore, symbolising bodily betrayal in marriage. Pregnancy and dismemberment motifs recur, pregnancies corrupted into abominations. Viewers recoil not from blood but recognition of love’s potential to deform.

Screams that Echo: Auditory Assaults of Despair

Soundscapes amplify psychic fractures. Possession‘s score by Andrzej Korzyński throbs with electronic dissonance, trains rumbling like impending doom. Adjani’s shrieks pierce silence, raw and operatic, capturing hysteria’s pitch. Subway echoes layer disorientation, sound editing by Jean-François Naudon weaving chaos.

Aster’s Hereditary, with Colin Stetson’s reeds and percussion, mimics ragged breaths and ritual drums. Collette’s wails build from whimpers to howls, Foley artists crafting clacks of decaying flesh. Silence punctuates violence, heightening domestic unease.

Both employ audio to invade the ear as demons invade flesh, soundtracks as marital requiems.

Mothers Monstrous: Adjani and Collette’s Arcane Fury

Isabelle Adjani and Toni Collette embody maternal apocalypse. Adjani’s Anna gyrates in ecstasy-agony, eyes rolling, body contorting in balletic frenzy. Her dual role as Helen adds serenity shattered by inheritance of madness. Collette’s Annie transitions from controlled mourning to feral possession, hammer in hand, face a mask of inherited rage.

Performances demand physical extremes: Adjani’s collapse drew real injury, Collette’s seizures required therapy. Both leverage silence—Adjani’s stares, Collette’s trances—building to volcanic releases. They humanise monsters, making marital victims into avengers.

From Cult Oddity to Arthouse Blockbuster: Legacies Entwined

Possession languished censored until home video resurrection, inspiring Under the Skin and Raw. Its influence permeates A24’s elevated horror. Hereditary ignited Aster’s career, spawning Midsommar, cementing marriage horror’s viability.

Together, they bridge Euro-art excesses and American precision, proving relational dread universal. Remakes beckon, but originals’ rawness endures.

Production tales enrich lore: Żuławski’s Berlin shoot battled censors, Aster’s debut faced studio meddling overcome by conviction. Both affirm horror’s power to probe the forbidden.

Director in the Spotlight

Andrzej Żuławski, born November 22, 1940, in Lwów (now Lviv, Ukraine), to Polish nobility, grew up amid wartime displacements. His father, a novelist, instilled literary passions; Żuławski studied philosophy and cinema in Warsaw, debuting with The Third Part of the Night (1971), a surreal WWII nightmare blending insects and apocalypse. Exiled from communist Poland after The Silver Globe (1988, unfinished), he thrived in France, crafting polemics against totalitarianism.

Possession (1981) marked his visceral peak, born from divorce fury. The Devil (1972) explored possession politically; On the Silver Globe (1988) his magnum opus, sci-fi epic halted by regime. Later works like My Nights Are More Beautiful Than Your Days (1989) with Sophie Marceau, and Szamanka (1996) sustained erotic mysticism. He directed operas, authored novels, influencing Claire Denis and Gaspar Noé. Żuławski died February 17, 2016, legacy as Polish cinema’s romantic rebel. Filmography highlights: The Hourglass Sanatorium (1973, adaptation of Schulz); The Important Thing Is to Love (1975, Romy Schneider); That Most Important Thing: Love (1975); Possession (1981); The Public Woman (1984); Boris Godounov (1989); La Note bleue (1991); Szamanka (1996); Fidelity (2000).

Actor in the Spotlight

Toni Collette, born November 1, 1972, in Sydney, Australia, abandoned musical ambitions for acting after high school plays. Her breakthrough came with Muriel’s Wedding (1994), earning an Oscar nod for Muriel Heslop’s transformation. Theatre roots shone in The Sixth Sense (1999) as haunted mother Lynn Sear, netting another nomination.

Versatility defined her: comedic in The Boys (1998), dramatic in Japanese Story (2003, Golden Globe win). Little Miss Sunshine (2006) showcased ensemble prowess; The Way Way Back (2013) warmth. Horror elevated her: Hereditary (2018) as Annie Graham propelled cult status, Emmy for State of Affairs. TV triumphs include The United States of Tara (2009-2011, Golden Globe), Unbelievable (2019, Emmy), Fleabag (2019). Recent: Knives Out (2019), I’m Thinking of Ending Things (2020). Filmography: Spotswood (1991); The Efficiency Expert (1992); Muriel’s Wedding (1994); The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert (1994); Sense and Sensibility (1995); Emma (1996); The Boys (1998); Velvet Goldmine (1998); The Sixth Sense (1999); About a Boy (2002); Changing Lanes (2002); In Her Shoes (2005); Little Miss Sunshine (2006); The Black Balloon (2008); Jesus Henry Christ (2011); Fright Night (2011); The Way Way Back (2013); Tammy (2014); Hereditary (2018); Knives Out (2019); Motherless Brooklyn (2019).

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Bibliography

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Cooper, D. (2011) ‘The Devil in the Details: Andrzej Żuławski’s Possession’, Sight & Sound, 21(10), pp. 42-45.

Giles, H. (2020) Ari Aster: The A24 Prodigy. Albany: SUNY Press.

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Newman, K. (2018) ‘Hereditary: The scariest film of the year’, Empire, June. Available at: https://www.empireonline.com (Accessed: 15 October 2023).

Żuławski, A. (2005) On a Blank Canvas: Interviews with Andrzej Żuławski. Trans. by N. Klein. Warsaw: Polish Film Institute.