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[Review] ‘Remothered: Tormented Fathers’ Fumbles in the Dark Despite its Initial Promise

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Remothered: Tormented Fathers starts off on an existential level. “A name is a trace,” says Madame Svenska, and old woman recounting a tale to one Mr. Manni. “It presents us to the world. But does it tell our story or really describe who we are?” Before cutting to black, Madame Svenska mentions how bizarre her confused memories are to describe — and I couldn’t agree more.

At this point, developer Stormind Games already set the stage for a horror noir. Quick and poetic dialogue, an investigator, a crime, smoking, and bleak, oppressive lighting to present it all. Despite the detail washed out from the darkness emanating from the environments, the game exhibits sweeping cinematography tied to a killer soundtrack composed by Nobuko Toda (Final Fantasy, Metal Gear Solid) and Luca Balboni (Mine, Watch Them Fall). Both music and visuals pair together well from the start, but presentation alone only holds so much water (or blood).

After the intro, you gain control of Dr. Rosemary Reed investigating the case of a missing child from years ago. Your task? Reach the residence of Dr. Richard Felton. Who’s that? Great question, and one I found myself still asking after the credits rolled.

A small, ominous stroll through the outside grounds of the house captures a chilling sense of tension that echoes through the very corridors of the house you’re approaching. Your attempt at entry is denied by Gloria, Richard’s caretaker, but the house says otherwise. Moving forward, the sound of an old, rusty gate creaking open is the most resistance you’ll encounter.

Once you meet Gloria face-to-face at the door, she lets you in long enough to discover there’s something not quite right about…well, all of it. You manage to meet Richard and ask about his missing child, Celeste, before being escorted out of the house. Rosemary later uncovers the keys to the estate hidden by Gloria and sneaks back into the house after the caretaker leaves for the day.

Upon entering the house, you’re left with one objective: investigate Celeste’s disappearance. Memories of You, the song featured here, sets up an eerie dichotomy between sound and visual design. After hearing that music play over and over again on a loop, it created an odd familiarity while exploring the house for the first time, but it never felt welcoming. You are not meant to be here.

The world Felton lives in is dark. Too dark. Whatever disease he contracted disrupted his eyesight, so he lives out his days drenched in darkness. A lot of the environmental detail in the house is drowned out by the lack of light, but there doesn’t seem to be a lot in the house to examine. Most interactive objects you find are objects thrown for distraction, but you can find some melee weapons (knife, hatchet, whatever you can find) to be used for self-defense. If you don’t have one, things can get real gory real quick. Eyes gouged in, nail gun to the face, impalement — even moths get in on the potential murder spree. Well, if you could see them. There’s so much terror hiding in the dark, but the darkness often dampens their impact.

Throwing your distraction object can stagger enemies, giving you plenty of time to find a hiding place. Hiding adds a complementary tension and often requires your input. None of them ask much more than spamming shoulder buttons or moving the analog stick around, but their approachability lets you focus on the environmental and cinematic storytelling.

The house is comprised of four floors with an elevator connecting each one. Of course, the elevator doesn’t work, so you’re resigned to creep up and down the stairs surrounding the elevator and leading into each floor’s main hallway. The middle two floors are the largest but are plagued by locked doors that open via story completion, making the house feel a little more linear than it looks. The top floor is by far the smallest; be careful not to trap yourself up there.

While nowhere is completely safe, the basement is the only place I felt any semblance of “safety.” There are enough hiding places and reasons to go down there throughout the game, so that was where I ran — and I ran there often, but not for fear of death, for lack of care. Even with just one measly sewing needle, Rosemary feels a bit too strong to feel any real fear.

remothered tormented fathers review

You can dodge enemy attacks, given the stamina. You can heal your health at save points (at the cost of a cracking mirror); you can even outrun most enemies you encounter, creating a momentary game of cat-and-mouse before rolling under a couch. With that, Remothered: Tormented Fathers relies on a combination of jump scares and narrative delivery to creep you out, and the introduction of The Red Nun is a haunting first impression I won’t soon forget.

Rosemary wearing high heels while sneaking around is inherently fantastic, if not a bit mood-breaking. Sneaking around comes in handy once you know what you need to do and need to outmaneuver an enemy to do it. Otherwise, it’s a rather slow and cumbersome way to navigate the house once you learn the layout (and the idea that you’re…kind of hard to kill).

But what exactly is it that you’re doing this whole time? You rarely know. In all this darkness, you must tackle a mystery through puzzle-solving while avoiding death. Putting item A in slot B will unlock key item C, which you can use to…you get the idea. You’ll eventually discover a couple documents that help shed a little light on the story, and, possibly, a hint about where to go or what to do to progress.

Solving one in-game puzzle multiplies the amount of information needed to put the story together. The game’s narrative is impossible to condense, and its delivery can be cryptic to the point of confusion. As the first part of a trilogy, Remothered: Tormented Fathers offers an intriguing, obscure tale smothered by its own mystery.

PC Review code provided by the developer.

Remothered: Tormented Fathers is out now on PC, PS4, and X1

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‘The King Tide’: An Island Town Rots with Moral Decay in Canadian Folk Horror Fable [Review]

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Isla (Alix West Lefler) holds up a hand covered in bees

The opening scenes of director Christian Sparkes The King Tide set an ominous tone: a powerful storm takes down the power lines of a small island town as a pregnant woman loses her child while her dementia-suffering mother sits nearby. In the morning, as the town takes stock of the damage and the power is restored, a surprising discovery is found in an overturned boat in the harbour: a baby girl…with the ability to heal.

Writers Albert Shin and William Woods, working from a story by Kevin Coughlin and Ryan Grassby, treat the story as something of a morality tale mixed with a fable. Following the cold open, the action jumps ahead 10 years at a point when the unnamed island (the film was shot in Newfoundland, Canada) is thriving. The fishing is bountiful, the islanders are self-sufficient and have cut ties with the mainland, and most everyone is happy.

As characters are prone to saying, it’s all thanks to Isla (Alix West Lefler), the miracle baby who has grown up worshipped by the islanders. While Mayor Bobby Bentham (Clayne Crawford) and his wife Grace (Lara Jean Chorostecki) endeavor to raise Isla like any other little girl, the reality is that the island’s entire ecosystem revolves around her miraculous powers. It is only because of Isla that they survive; every aspect of their lives – from medicine to food – relies on her.

Each day the citizens line up for their allotted time with the young girl – be it to stave off breast cancer, like Charlotte (Kathryn Greenwood), or recover from another night of heavy drinking like former doctor, Beau (Aden Young). There’s even a predetermined schedule for when she will go out on the boats and use her power to lure fish into the nets.

Bobby (Clayne Crawford) watches adopted daughter Isla (Alix West Lefler) write in candlelight

One fateful day, Bobby succumbs to peer pressure and alters Isla’s schedule at the last minute to accompany cod fishermen Marlon (Michael Greyeyes) and Dillon (Ryan McDonald). A childish game with fatal consequences is played, but with Isla indisposed, a young boy, who would have otherwise been fine, dies. And while the rest of the community grieves, it is Isla who is completely shaken and, unexpectedly, loses her powers.

Suddenly the entire balance of the island is thrown off. Folks like Grace’s mother, Faye (Frances Fisher), who relied on Isla to keep her dementia at bay, suddenly reckon with mortality, while the food security of the town is called into question. Faye’s late-night “support group” meetings take on an urgent and secretive tone and the townspeople claim ownership of Isla’s time despite Bobby and Beau’s protests that she needs rest to recover from her trauma.

Like the best thrillers, the politics and personalities within the community come into play as morals are compromised and the good of individuals vs the collective is played out in increasingly desperate situations. The King Tide excels because it is interested in exploring the competing motivations of the townspeople, while also resolutely refusing to paint anyone as inherently good or bad. These are desperate people, determined to remain independent and free from outside interference, while protecting their trapped-in-amber way of life.

Isla (Alix West Lefler) sits with her back to the camera in a doorway

These developments work because there’s a humanity to the characters and The King Tide wisely relies heavily on its deep bench castoff character actors to drive the conflict. Crawford is the de facto protagonist of the ensemble and he’s also the most straightforward character: Bobby is a good man and a loving father, but he’s no white knight. At several points in the film, his willingness to acquiesce to the demands of the community and retain his power causes events to spiral further out of control.

Even more fascinating are Grace and Faye, two commanding women whose capacity for maternal love is matched – or eclipsed – by their own self-interests. A mid-film discovery about Isla’s power reframes Grace’s priorities, ultimately pitting her against her husband. As a result, Grace is incredibly compelling and frustrating (in a good way) and Chorostecki, who has done great genre work on both Hannibal to Chucky, plays the moral ambiguity exactly right. Grace is a fascinating and flawed human character in a film filled with them.

The same goes for Fisher, who deftly balances Faye’s grandmotherly love for Isla with the needs of the community and, by extension, her own health demands. In the hands of a lesser performer, it would be easy to hate Faye for her actions, but Fisher’s performance perfectly captures the fierce determination and fear that drives the island’s matriarch.

Finally, there’s Aden Young, The King Tide’s secret weapon. The ten-year jump reveals that Beau has undergone the most significant transformation: while everyone else has benefitted from Isla’s powers, her presence has eliminated the need for a doctor. With the clinic effectively shuttered, Beau has become an alcoholic; a shell of his former self with no purpose.

Like Bobby, Beau is the easiest character to root for because of his selfless desire to protect Isla, but Young (renowned for his work with Crawford on Rectify) unlocks the character’s tragic pathos and, in the process, becomes the film’s emotional anchor.

Beau (Aden Young - L) stands in a room full of children's toys with Faye (Frances Fisher)

Framing the moral decline of the islanders and anticipating the unexpectedly devastating climax is the natural beauty of Newfoundland. As shot by cinematographer Mike McLaughlin, there’s a steely beauty to the geography, resplendent with rocky cliffs, pounding surf, and gusty bluffs that reinforce the islanders’ isolation.

There’s a fierce pride in their struggle to survive independently, evident in the simple lodgings and the antiquated alarm bell that is rung whenever fishing ships from the mainland stray too close. It’s a chilly, atmospheric calling card for one of the most picturesque provinces in Canada, but it is a perfect complement for the folk horror narrative.

Armed with serene, beautiful cinematography, murky moral developments, and a deep bench of talented character actors, The King Tide is a quiet gem that demands to be seen. It’s one of the year’s best genre films.

The King Tide is in theaters April 26, 2024.

4.5 skulls out of 5

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