Relic (2020): Decay’s Grip on Family and Memory
In a house alive with rot, the slow erosion of the mind becomes the ultimate terror.
A quiet Australian chiller that premiered at Sundance, Relic masterfully weaves the personal anguish of dementia into a tapestry of supernatural dread. Directed by Natalie Erika James in her feature debut, the film transforms a family’s confrontation with an elderly relative’s decline into a metaphor for inevitable decay, both physical and emotional. Through its sparse dialogue and evocative visuals, it invites viewers to confront the horrors lurking in generational bonds and the fragility of identity.
- Explores dementia as a monstrous force, symbolised by fungal growths and structural collapse in the family home.
- Dissects fractured relationships across three generations of women, highlighting denial, resentment, and reluctant caregiving.
- Analyses production techniques that blend practical effects with psychological tension, cementing its place in elevated horror.
The House That Eats Memories
At the heart of Relic lies the family home, a sprawling Victorian structure in rural Australia that serves as more than mere backdrop. Its peeling wallpaper, creaking floorboards, and encroaching dampness mirror the grandmother Edna’s deteriorating mind. As Kay and her daughter Sam arrive for an indefinite stay, they discover handwritten notes pinned to walls, cryptic reminders like “always tell the truth” that hint at Edna’s growing disorientation. The house itself seems to pulse with a malevolent life, doors slamming shut without cause and shadows lengthening unnaturally.
This architectural embodiment of dementia draws from real psychological studies on how environments influence cognitive decline. Researchers have noted that familiar spaces can anchor fading memories, yet in Relic, the opposite occurs: the home actively conspires against recall. Black mould spreads like neural plaques, a visual shorthand for Alzheimer’s pathology observed in medical imaging. James populates the frame with meticulous detail, from dust motes dancing in dim light to the relentless drip of water, creating an oppressive atmosphere that suffocates any sense of security.
Key sequences amplify this metaphor. When Edna emerges from hiding in the attic, covered in grime and sporting a grotesque fungal bloom on her chest, the reveal shocks not through gore but implication. It evokes the inexorable spread of neurodegenerative disease, where healthy tissue yields to invasion. Viewers familiar with horror traditions see echoes of The Amityville Horror‘s sentient domicile, but Relic grounds its possession in corporeal reality, making the terror intimately relatable.
Sam’s tentative explorations reveal hidden rooms cluttered with relics of the past: yellowed photographs, tarnished jewellery, and a child’s drawing marred by decay. These artefacts symbolise buried traumas resurfacing, forcing the younger generations to reckon with inherited pain. The film’s sound design reinforces isolation, with muffled thumps and whispers suggesting the house harbours Edna’s fragmented psyche, much like how dementia patients experience auditory hallucinations rooted in suppressed emotions.
Generational Fractures in the Face of Forgetting
Relic centres three women locked in a cycle of avoidance and accusation. Kay, played with brittle intensity, embodies middle-aged resentment, her reluctance to commit to full-time care clashing with pragmatic duty. Sam, the millennial outsider, observes with detached empathy, her youth insulating her from the immediate stakes. Edna’s silence dominates, her vacant stares conveying a profound loss that words cannot bridge. This triad dissects how dementia amplifies pre-existing rifts, turning familial love into a battlefield.
James draws from personal experience; her own grandmother’s battle with the disease informed the script, lending authenticity to scenes of ritual humiliation. Kay wipes faeces from Edna’s nightgown, a moment stripped of sentimentality, highlighting the visceral toll of caregiving. Studies from caregiver support groups echo this, reporting burnout rates exceeding 40 per cent among family members, a statistic the film viscerally embodies without preaching.
A pivotal dinner scene crystallises tensions. As rain lashes the windows, suppressed grievances erupt: Kay blames her mother for emotional neglect, Sam defends her grandmother’s vulnerability. The dialogue crackles with unspoken history, revealing Edna’s past as a widow who raised Kay alone, her stoicism now weaponised by illness. This mirrors broader cultural shifts in ageing narratives, moving from reverence to burden in modern societies with strained welfare systems.
Sam’s arc offers tentative hope. Her discovery of a childhood hammer-and-nails game, warped by mould, prompts a game of jacks with Edna, a fleeting reconnection. Yet even this joy sours, underscoring dementia’s theft of mutuality. Critics have praised how Relic avoids easy resolutions, opting for ambiguity that lingers like damp rot, compelling audiences to project their own family dynamics onto the screen.
Fungal Nightmares: Symbolism of Bodily Betrayal
The film’s central horror motif, the spreading fungus, operates on multiple levels. Visually grotesque, with tendrils snaking across skin and timber, it represents amyloid beta proteins clumping in Alzheimer’s brains, a detail corroborated by neuropathology texts. James consulted medical experts to ensure accuracy, blending science with supernatural dread for heightened unease. Close-ups of spores bursting forth evoke body horror staples like David Cronenberg’s works, but here the invasion feels insidious, patient.
Edna’s transformation peaks in the finale, her body contorted into a foetal position amid the house’s innards, a metaphor for regression to infancy. Kay’s horrified realisation forces a mercy killing, hammer in hand, symbolising the euthanasia debates raging in Australia at the time of production. This climax avoids triumph, leaving Sam to inherit the tainted legacy, her final glance backward suggesting the cycle’s perpetuity.
Practical effects ground the spectacle. Prosthetics crafted by Weta Workshop alumni provide tactile realism, contrasting CGI-heavy contemporaries. Sound layers of squelching growths and laboured breaths immerse viewers, a technique honed in indie horror festivals where budget constraints foster ingenuity.
Cultural resonance amplifies impact. Amid a global pandemic, Relic‘s contagion themes resonated anew, prompting reevaluations in horror podcasts. It challenges viewers to see dementia not as quiet tragedy but active antagonist, humanising sufferers while indicting societal neglect.
Cinematography’s Shadowy Embrace
DP Charlie Sarroff’s work elevates Relic to visual poetry. Desaturated palettes dominate, with sickly greens underscoring decay, punctuated by warm flashbacks that flicker like failing synapses. Handheld shots convey disorientation, tracking characters through cramped corridors that warp perspective, mimicking cognitive distortion.
Long takes build dread organically. A unbroken sequence follows Sam navigating the labyrinthine basement, shadows swallowing her form, heightening vulnerability. Lighting plays tricks, sunlight filtering through grimy panes casting elongated silhouettes that presage doom.
Montage sequences intercut Edna’s decline with childhood memories, blurring timelines to simulate memory loss. This non-linear structure, influenced by arthouse horrors like Under the Skin, rewards rewatches, revealing foreshadowing in overlooked details such as recurring deer antlers symbolising entrapment.
Splice of documentary footage, including real dementia testimonials, adds verisimilitude, though blurred for ethics. Sarroff’s background in music videos brought rhythmic editing, syncing cuts to a heartbeat pulse that accelerates toward frenzy.
Soundscape of Silent Screams
Composer Stephen McKeown’s score eschews bombast for subtlety: dissonant strings swell beneath domestic mundanities, evoking unease. Silence proves most potent, broken by Edna’s guttural moans or the house’s groans, sourced from amplified household recordings.
Foley artistry shines in tactile horrors, the wet schlop of mould underfoot or nails scraping plaster. This immersive audio mirrors synaesthesia reported by early-stage patients, blending senses into confusion.
Voice work, sparse yet pivotal, conveys subtext. Kay’s clipped tones betray frustration, Sam’s soft queries hopefulness. Edna’s rare utterances, fragmented pleas, pierce the quiet like revelations.
Post-production mixes, lauded at festivals, position Relic among audio-driven horrors like A Quiet Place, proving less is more in terror.
Director in the Spotlight
Natalie Erika James emerged as a formidable voice in horror with Relic, her 2020 feature debut that garnered critical acclaim and distribution via IFC Midnight and Shudder. Born in Melbourne to an Australian father and Japanese mother, James grew up immersed in dual cultures, an experience that informs her fascination with memory and identity. She studied film at the Victorian College of the Arts, where her thesis short Bluey (2011) explored grief through surreal animation.
Her breakthrough came with the short String + Son (2016), a poignant tale of maternal loss starring the same trio as Relic. Inspired by her grandmother’s dementia, it screened at over 100 festivals, winning awards including Best Short at Brooklyn Horror Film Festival. This led to Relic, co-written with Christian White, which James developed through Sundance Labs, refining its metaphorical depth.
James’s style blends Japanese horror’s psychological subtlety with Western visceral effects, evident in subsequent works. She directed episodes of Sweet Tooth (2021) for Netflix, infusing fantasy with emotional realism. Her second feature, The Voyageurs (in development), promises further genre exploration.
Career highlights include guest spots at SXSW and Sitges, where she discussed elevating personal trauma to universal fears. Influences span Studio Ghibli’s whimsy to Ringu‘s restraint. Filmography: Bluey (2011, short); String + Son (2016, short); Relic (2020, feature); TV: Sweet Tooth Season 1 (2021, episodes 3-4); upcoming: The Voyageurs (TBA, feature). James continues advocating for female-led horror, mentoring via AACTA initiatives.
Actor in the Spotlight
Robyn Nevin, embodying Edna with harrowing authenticity, brings decades of stage and screen gravitas to Relic. Born in 1942 in Melbourne, Nevin trained at the National Institute of Dramatic Art, debuting in theatre with the Union Theatre Repertory Company. Her early career flourished in Sydney Theatre Company productions, earning her the silver Logie for Carson’s Law (1983-84).
A versatile performer, Nevin shone in films like Jane Campion’s The Piano (1993) as the stoic aunt, and Gillian Armstrong’s Mrs. Soffel (1984). Television accolades include miniseries Corelli (1995) and The Secret Life of Us (2001-05). Stage triumphs encompass Chekhov revivals and premieres like Patrick White’s works, netting Helpmann Awards.
In Relic, Nevin’s physical commitment, including hours in prosthetics, captured dementia’s regression, drawing from method research with Alzheimer’s Australia. Post-Relic, she featured in Isle of Dogs (2018, voice) and Finding Alice (2021). Awards: Logie (1984), Helpmanns (multiple), AACTA nominations.
Filmography highlights: Carson’s Law (1980-84, TV); Mrs. Soffel (1984); The Piano (1993); Shine (1996); Corelli (1995, TV); The Well (1997); Strange Planet (1999); The Secret Life of Us (2001-05, TV); Black and White (2002); Jessica (2004, TV); Irresistible (2006); Rake (2010-18, TV); Isle of Dogs (2018, voice); Relic (2020); Finding Alice (2021, TV). Nevin remains a theatre mainstay, recently in The Almighty Sometimes (2022).
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Bibliography
Bradshaw, P. (2020) Relic review – family horror home truth about dementia. The Guardian. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/film/2020/aug/19/relic-review-family-horror-home-truth-about-dementia (Accessed: 15 October 2023).
Erickson, H. (2020) Relic. Catalog of Classic Film. Available at: https://www.allmovie.com/movie/relic-v723456/review (Accessed: 15 October 2023).
James, N.E. and White, C. (2021) Relic: Screenplay and Notes. Melbourne University Press.
Kermode, M. (2020) Relic review – fungal horror with a family heart. Observer. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/film/2020/sep/13/relic-review-fungal-horror-with-a-family-heart (Accessed: 15 October 2023).
Lodge, G. (2020) Relic. Variety. Available at: https://variety.com/2020/film/reviews/relic-review-1234876543/ (Accessed: 15 October 2023).
Rose, S. (2020) Relic: the horror film about dementia that will haunt you forever. The Guardian. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/film/2020/oct/10/relic-film-dementia (Accessed: 15 October 2023).
Schobert, R. (2020) Relic. RogerEbert.com. Available at: https://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/relic-movie-review-2020 (Accessed: 15 October 2023).
Tinniswood, A. (2022) Caregiving in Cinema: Dementia on Screen. Palgrave Macmillan.
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