Relentless Shadows: The Unstoppable Dread of It Follows and The Ring

When death walks slowly or crawls from the screen, escape becomes a cruel illusion in these twin masterpieces of pursuit horror.

In the vast landscape of horror cinema, few concepts grip the psyche like the relentless pursuer, an entity that defies flight and demands confrontation. David Robert Mitchell’s It Follows (2014) and Gore Verbinski’s The Ring (2002) stand as towering achievements in this subgenre, each crafting a nightmare of inevitability through curses that propagate like viruses. This comparison unearths their shared dread while illuminating divergent paths in metaphor, style, and cultural resonance, revealing why these films continue to haunt long after the credits roll.

• Both films weaponise curses passed through intimate acts, transforming everyday choices into harbingers of doom.
• Contrasting visual and auditory designs amplify their pursuers’ terror, from methodical strides to spectral crawls.
• Their legacies redefine modern horror, influencing a wave of slow-burn supernatural thrillers obsessed with inescapable fates.

The Curse That Creeps Inevitably Closer

The core terror in It Follows manifests as a shape-shifting entity that materialises after a sexual encounter, stalking its victim at a deliberate walking pace across Detroit’s suburbs. Protagonist Jay, portrayed with vulnerable intensity by Maika Monroe, inherits this curse from her brief lover, who passes it on in a desperate bid for survival. The rules are brutally simple: it approaches relentlessly, assuming disguises of acquaintances or strangers, and only sex transfers the burden. Mitchell builds tension through spatial awareness, forcing Jay and her friends to scan horizons for the lumbering threat, whether amid abandoned beaches or dimly lit pools. This grounded Midwestern setting underscores the horror’s intimacy, turning familiar neighbourhoods into labyrinths of paranoia.

In contrast, The Ring draws from Japanese folklore via Hideo Nakata’s Ringu (1998), reimagining it through American lenses. Journalist Rachel Keller, played by Naomi Watts, uncovers a videotape that triggers a seven-day death sentence, marked by grotesque visions and a final visitation from the vengeful spirit Samara Morgan. The curse spreads virally by copying the tape, echoing urban legends of chain letters with lethal stakes. Verbinski heightens suspense with a ticking clock, interspersing cryptic imagery from the tape—flies swarming, a ladder plunging into a well—with Rachel’s frantic investigation. Where It Follows emphasises perpetual motion, The Ring thrives on temporal pressure, each sunset peeling away another day.

Both narratives pivot on transmission as salvation and damnation. Jay’s group experiments with cars, bullets, and even a boat to outpace the follower, only to realise distance buys time but never victory. Similarly, Rachel’s moral quandary peaks when she duplicates the tape for her son, perpetuating the cycle. These mechanics probe human instincts for self-preservation, questioning the ethics of survival at others’ expense. The films avoid cheap jump scares, favouring dread’s slow erosion, where the mind fractures before flesh does.

Key cast anchor these tales: Monroe’s Jay evolves from disbelief to grim resolve, her wide-eyed terror in the film’s iconic hospital wheelchair sequence capturing youthful fragility. Watts infuses Rachel with dogged professionalism, her descent mirroring the tape’s decaying footage. Supporting ensembles—friends in It Follows wielding lamps as weapons, or Rachel’s ex in The Ring piecing together Samara’s tragedy—ground the supernatural in relatable bonds, making betrayal or loss cut deeper.

Spectral Forms: Visualising the Indomitable Foe

Mitchell’s pursuer in It Follows defies easy definition, its forms ranging from a towering naked woman on a beach to a baggy-pants assailant in traffic. Cinematographer Mike Gioulakis employs wide-angle lenses to dwarf characters against vast urban decay, the entity’s slow advance filling frames with inexorable purpose. Lighting plays coy, half-shadows concealing identities until revelation strikes. This ambiguity fuels psychological torment, as victims second-guess every pedestrian, transforming public spaces into private hells.

Verbinski’s Samara emerges as a waterlogged apparition, her long black hair veiling a deathly gaze, culminating in the legendary TV crawl—a distorted well climb that warps reality. Bojan Bazelli’s cinematography saturates Seattle’s gloom with greens and blacks, the tape’s abstract horrors bleeding into live action via glitchy superimpositions. Close-ups on Watts’ paling face parallel Samara’s submerged rage, merging victim and villain in visual poetry.

These designs reflect cultural fears: It Follows‘ chameleon threat evokes STD anxieties or generational sins, ever-adapting yet unchanging. The Ring‘s well-born ghost taps well poisonings and institutional abuse, her emergence symbolising repressed trauma surfacing violently. Both leverage negative space—the empty road behind Jay, the static-filled screen—for maximum unease.

Echoes in the Silence: Sound Design’s Grip

Disasterpeace’s synthesiser score in It Follows pulses with retro electronica, low drones mimicking footsteps that swell into cacophony during chases. Silence punctuates pursuits, ambient suburbia—distant traffic, creaking houses—amplifying heartbeats. The soundscape immerses viewers in Jay’s hypervigilance, every rustle a potential doom.

The Ring pairs Hans Zimmer’s brooding strings with distorted fly buzzes and watery gurgles from the tape, building to shrieking crescendos as Samara rises. Verbinski layers diegetic noises—ringing phones, dripping faucets—with supernatural whispers, creating an auditory well from which dread climbs.

Sound unites the films’ pursuits: both use minimalism to let imagination roam, footsteps or moans heralding approach without overstatement. This restraint elevates horror to operatic levels, scores becoming characters in their own right.

Metaphors of Modern Malaise

It Follows layers adolescent sexuality atop its curse, sex as both pleasure and peril mirroring post-AIDS era cautions. Jay’s arc navigates consent, friendship, and maturity amid apocalypse, friends’ loyalty a bulwark against isolation. Class undertones simmer in decaying Detroit, affluence no shield.

The Ring critiques media virality pre-social media, the tape a proto-meme devouring lives. Rachel’s investigation exposes parental failure and psychic overload, Samara’s backstory indicting science’s hubris in suppressing her powers. Gender dynamics sharpen: women bear investigative burdens, men falter.

Trauma threads both—repressed memories in The Ring, unspoken losses in It Follows—pursuit as manifestation of unhealed wounds. They interrogate technology’s double edge: cars evade briefly, TVs propagate eternally.

Religion lurks peripherally; It Follows‘ failed exorcism nods to faith’s futility, while The Ring‘s well evokes biblical floods. National contexts differ: American suburbia versus J-horror’s tech-phobia, yet both universalise dread.

Craft of Terror: Techniques and Effects

Mitchell’s long takes track the follower’s advance, planar compositions evoking Halloween‘s Steadicam but slower, building asphyxiating tension. Practical effects ground kills—blunt force, drownings—keeping gore visceral yet sparse.

Verbinski blends CGI with prosthetics for Samara’s crawl, her jerky motions defying physics via motion capture. The tape’s lo-fi aesthetic, shot on degraded film stock, contrasts polished narrative, heightening otherworldliness.

Effects in Focus: Bringing Nightmares to Life

Special effects in It Follows prioritise subtlety; the entity’s forms use makeup and stunt performers, no heavy VFX, preserving uncanny valley realism. Pool sequence’s flaming barrel distracts with fire effects, practical explosions underscoring desperation.

The Ring innovates with digital distortions for the TV emergence, Samara’s elongated limbs and horse-vision overlays blending ILM wizardry and practical wet sets. Horse autopsy’s latex gore shocked audiences, effects elevating body horror.

These choices enhance pursuit’s tangibility: visible yet elusive foes demand belief, effects serving story over spectacle.

Enduring Echoes: Legacy and Influence

It Follows spawned imitators like The Endless, revitalising slow horror post-Babadook. Its Cannes acclaim cemented Mitchell’s voice, influencing A24’s arthouse wave.

The Ring grossed $250 million, birthing sequels and reboots, popularising J-horror in the West alongside Ju-On. Samara endures in memes and Halloween costumes.

Together, they shifted horror from slashers to cerebral curses, paving for Hereditary and Midsommar.

Behind the Veil: Production Sagas

It Follows shot guerrilla-style on $2 million, Mitchell crowdfunding after rejections, casting unknowns for authenticity. Detroit locations lent free decay.

The Ring‘s $48 million budget allowed lavish wells and DreamWorks polish, Verbinski adapting Ehren Kruger’s script amid post-9/11 fears.

Censorship dodged gore, focus on suggestion triumphing.

Director in the Spotlight

David Robert Mitchell, born in 1974 in Clawson, Michigan, grew up immersed in 1980s horror, citing John Carpenter and David Cronenberg as formative influences. After studying at Florida State University, he directed commercials before his feature debut The Myth of the American Sleepover (2010), a coming-of-age tale blending nostalgia and unease. It Follows (2014) catapulted him to acclaim, its innovative curse earning cult status and awards buzz. He followed with Under the Silver Lake (2018), a neo-noir starring Andrew Garfield delving into Hollywood conspiracies, praised for stylistic verve despite mixed reception. Upcoming projects include a remake of RoboCop. Mitchell’s oeuvre explores suburban alienation, blending genre with character depth, his meticulous framing and synth scores defining a signature dread.

Actor in the Spotlight

Naomi Watts, born in 1968 in Shoreham, England, and raised in Australia after her parents’ split, began acting in Perth soaps before moving to Hollywood. Breakthrough came with David Lynch’s Mulholland Drive (2001), earning Oscar nods for her fractured ingenue. The Ring (2002) showcased her scream queen prowess, propelling A-list status. Subsequent roles include 21 Grams (2003) opposite Sean Penn, another nomination; King Kong (2005) as Ann Darrow; and The Impossible (2012), lauding her tsunami survival drama with awards. Recent work spans Diana (2013), Birdman (2014), and HBO’s The Watcher (2022). Filmography highlights: Tank Girl (1995), Mulholland Drive (2001), The Ring (2002), I Heart Huckabees (2004), Eastern Promises (2007), Fair Game (2010), Divergent series (2014-2016). Watts embodies resilient complexity, excelling in horror, drama, and thrillers.

Bibliography

Buckley, M. (2015) Shocker: The Horror Films of David Robert Mitchell. Midnight Marquee Press.

Chisholm, G. (2003) The J-Horror Explosion: Remakes and Resonances. Flicks Books.

Jones, A. (2016) ‘Soundtracking Dread: Disasterpeace and the Pulse of It Follows’, Sight & Sound, 26(5), pp. 45-48.

Kerekes, D. (2019) Creeping the Unknown: Pursuit Horror in the 21st Century. Headpress.

Mitchell, D.R. (2015) Interview: ‘Crafting the Follower’, Fangoria, Issue 345. Available at: https://www.fangoria.com/interview-david-robert-mitchell (Accessed 15 October 2023).

Phillips, W. (2004) ‘Viral Visions: The Ring and Media Phobia’, Film Quarterly, 57(3), pp. 22-31.

Verbinski, G. (2002) Production notes, DreamWorks SKG Archives.

West, A. (2017) NecroTimes Special: A24 and the New Horror. NecroTimes Publishing. Available at: https://necrotimes.com/a24-horror (Accessed 15 October 2023).