Luz banks on precise storytelling and trusting its audience to deliver an emotional, mysterious tale of body-hopping madness!
“Is this how you want to live your life?”
The relationship between a filmmaker and the audience is a sacred bond and a lot of the viewing experience is affected by how the film treats its audience. It’s very obvious when a film doesn’t have a plan or answers to its questions, but there’s something to be said when a film trusts its audience so much that it can just throw them into the lion’s den and be confident that they’ll figure out how to survive. Luz, the debut film from Tilman Singer, is a tale of demonic possession, but that’s one of the only things that’s clear about this film. The movie is such a delirious, unusual assault of the senses that’s a remarkably fresh take on the possession sub-genre of horror.
Luz begins with an almost innocent nature as Luz (Luana Velis) enters a police station in a daze and requires assistance. Simultaneously, a woman at a nearby bar hits on an accomplished doctor and tells him the story of her lover, who sounds suspiciously similar to Luz. These two parallel stories play out and eventually intersect as the film allows you to slowly connect the dots between these two women. Luz drops hints as to what’s going on, but it’s truly impossible to predict where the film will go next and the angle that it takes. Luz lets minimal details speak for itself and by doing so the experience kind of swallows the viewer whole. The film’s approach forces you to look deeper and go beyond what’s being told to you in order to figure things out for yourself. This may be more work than what some viewers want, but this is what strong, provoking horror does. By the time that you realize that this is a story of obsession and demons, it’s already too late.
In a sense, Luz is a surreal interpretation of the old, “the grass is always greener on the other side” adage. It’s a tale of obsession, which plays out in such a mysterious, non-linear way. The film details the lengths that a demon will go to get its target, but the film has such confidence in its storytelling. Nothing is spoonfed to the audience and no time is wasted on exposition. It’s a lean 70 minutes that accomplishes a ton.
Singer has a strong handle on the themes that he tackles here, but Luz is also a movie that’s just beautiful on an aesthetic level. The movie legitimately feels like a lost ‘70s film, both in its subject matter and presentation style. Grainy 16mm film is used to its full effect here. Luz features a haunting, dreamy score that perfectly compliments the film’s set and art design, which turn simple things like an interrogation room into a foggy, surreal dreamscape with eerie precision. However, the film’s sound design is especially impressive and intricate. Luz is put under regression therapy in an enlightening attempt to re-live and explore the crime from a new vantage point. The stunning sequence combines mime work with a police interrogation and impeccable sound design details to create one of the most creative things that I’ve ever seen on film.
As Luz slowly brings its two star-crossed souls closer together, the film flies between being frightening and emotional with little warning. A lot of this is due to the strong performances in the film, which all know when to be restrained and when to go for it. Dr. Rossini (Jan Bluthardt) excels at an especially difficult task since he has to play several different characters, so to speak.
Luz presents a painful, striking story that goes to hell and back, all so two lost souls are able to reunite and reconnect. The film is incredibly simple in that respect, but it’s also such a different and deep approach for a concept as melodramatic as this. The ideas that the film pushes forward aren’t revolutionary, but Luz’ visuals should stick with you long after and push your brain into overdrive. Luz is not only a success, but also a mature, thoughtful first film—let alone the director’s freaking student thesis project—so it should be exciting to see where Singer’s career in horror takes him.
