Reviews
‘The Twin’ Review – Maternal Nightmare Gets Too Caught Up in Its Destination
Bloody Disgusting’s The Twin review is spoiler-free.
Gaslighting and paranoid isolation frequently come into play in horror movies centered around motherhood. Everything about The Twin‘s premise teases more of the same. Director and co-writer Taneli Mustonen (Lake Bodom) aims to subvert that formula by infusing it with folk horror and a few narrative sharp turns. But it’s so fixated on the destination that the journey getting there is a struggle.
After an idyllic drive through the countryside ends in tragedy, Rachel (Teresa Palmer) and Anthony (Steven Cree) bury their son Nathan in New York and then relocate with their surviving son Elliot (Tristan Ruggeri) to the quiet Scandinavian countryside to heal. It doesn’t take long for Elliot to begin behaving peculiarly or for Rachel to notice the locals’ ominous, ever-watchful presence. The more mistrust grows as the locals seem to close in, the more desperate Rachel becomes to unravel the truth about the sinister forces that targeted Elliot.
Mustonen, who co-wrote with Aleksi Hyvärinen, plays things close to the vest throughout. Setting the story almost entirely post-grief removes any chance of getting to know this family’s dynamic before the loss, of who they were before the crash. That’s intentional, of course, but it does make it challenging to find a foothold when Rachel begins her emotional arc already in an exaggerated state that never wavers beyond a straight line of constant duress. Whereas Rachel is the volatile, overbearing doting mother, her husband Anthony is distant and aloof, often retreating to his office for drinks while listening to Rachel’s battles with Elliot lashing out. There’s a flatness to both central characters.
Then there are the red herrings and strange visual clues. The early transition scene that sees Rachel and Anthony burying their son is set against a cityscape featuring the World Trade Center. There seems to be no actual significance to placing the narrative in this period other than to use the Twin Towers as a not-so-subtle hint in a horror movie titled The Twin. The Twin is full of enigmatic clues that don’t click into place until much later, and even then land with a thud.
!['The Twin' Trailer - Teresa Palmer Gives Birth to Evil [Video]](https://i0.wp.com/bloody-disgusting.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/02/Screen-Shot-2022-02-17-at-10.16.50-AM.png?ssl=1)
How Mustonen layers in the folk horror raises visual interest, complete with Pagan rituals and Baphomet induced nightmares, but it’s all kept at a deliberate distance. Everything gets framed from Rachel’s perspective to maintain the mystery, drawing it out as long as possible. The third act finally brings the big picture into clear view, but the logical leaps and shortcuts it took to get there mean minimal impact. Worse, it underscores how much of what came before was unimportant filler and questions character choices and motivations.
The setting and Daniel Lindholm‘s cinematography at least capture the natural beauty of the Finnish countryside, but it’s not enough to sell the intended atmosphere. Mustonen’s attempts to subvert familiar tropes and clichés are over reliant on an ending that doesn’t entirely feel earned, wholly undermining its characters. Supporting player Barbara Marten injects a needed spark of life as ally and neighbor Helen, but even she, too, gets undercut for the sake of the payoff. In the end, The Twin is all fakeouts, devoid of scares.
The Twin premieres on Shudder, in theaters, on VOD and digital on May 6, 2022.
Movies
‘Recluse’ Review – Harrowing Haunted House Horror With Lots Of Skeletons In Its Closet [Tribeca 2026]
A haunted house story is tense, terrifying storytelling when it’s properly executed. There’s been a growing tendency in horror to blend together harrowing haunted house stories with traumatic homecomings. A family member’s illness or death triggers a return to something dark that was intentionally left behind. Recluse hits all the tropes that one expects to find in this type of horror film, yet it manages to push this story in a daring, disturbing new direction that uses sound as a superpower.
It’s a unique lens to experience a familiar story about family secrets, generational trauma, unresolved grief, and the importance of not just legacy, but preservation. It’s a hell of a directorial debut from Henry Chaisson that’s guaranteed to get under the audience’s skin as they’re dragged through this painful, toxic tale.
Recluse is a gothic haunted house story where an isolated audio engineer, Joan (Sasha Frolova), returns to her family’s estate to check in on her father after he suffers a terrible accident. Joan suddenly discovers something much more sinister that paints her family’s tragedies in a very different light. Chaisson’s debut functions as a fascinating companion piece to this year’s undertone, which does a lot of the same things.
These two films make for a fascinating case of parallel thinking that tackles comparable subject matter through a similar lens, albeit in a bigger, less claustrophobic story in Recluse’s case. In fact, it’s the perfect horror film for anyone who was let down by undertone and didn’t feel like it brought enough to the table. It’s a considerably more conventional horror film, but this isn’t meant to denigrate its high quality. Recluse may hit some familiar notes, but it’s a scary, well-crafted haunted house horror story that goes for the jugular.
A gripping mystery that involves the tragic, unresolved circumstances that surround Joan’s mother teases a chilling connection to the recent horrors that have afflicted her father. Joan desperately tries to put these pieces together and give her family some sense of grander peace before she’s pulled under and becomes another victim of this festering curse that’s systematically worked its way through the Wyatt family. By doing so, Recluse digs into some deeper commentary on collective trauma, a very literal look at the “sins of the father” adage, and how one selfish decision can ripple through generations and fracture off into different dilemmas. By the end, Recluse has brilliantly flipped the powerful concept of legacy on its head by illustrating the horrors and sense of entitlement that can be born out of this idea.
A legacy is just another name for a curse under the right context.
”Listen” is a simple but powerful command from Joan’s father that she briefly obsesses over. In a way, it becomes Recluse’s grander mission statement, whether it’s in response to Joan listening to the people in her life, the signals that her body and mind are telling her, or the world’s greater whims. It’s important to reconnect with these grounding pillars, especially when it feels like control is slipping away.
Recluse excels with how audio and soundscapes can create entire universes that are full of rich details that transport individuals to these environments. There’s also a level of objectivity when it comes to audio recordings and the evergreen permanence that they’re able to provide. Joan’s career as an audio engineer makes sense for someone who wants to cling to hard evidence and proof of existence. It provides great insight into Joan without ever getting lost in contrived exposition.
Joan’s entire life is built around audio engineering, and so it makes sense that Recluse features excellent sound design that really goes above and beyond with its production elements. All of the sound design is expertly handled and turns the film into something special. These auditory elements intuitively keep the audience on edge so that they’re more susceptible to the actual scares that eventually strike. The smallest sound effect gets turned into a crushing, cacophonous assault. It’s a really effective way to build terror. Writer/Director Chaisson also handles the film’s music, which achieves a sublime, unnerving dissonance that further heightens the free-floating anxiety.
The story at the center of Recluse is slightly generic in some respects, but the film’s visual language and tone make it feel distinctly memorable. It also doesn’t hurt that the home that Joan returns to is basically an eerie art studio that’s full of contorted paintings. Recluse never struggles to generate mounting dread and terror that pump through every scene. Powerful, thoughtful cinematography consistently reinforces the film’s themes. Joan is constantly reflected in different surfaces or viewed through mirrors. She’s also often confined to tight, constricting framing that all speaks to her refracted identity during this moment of loss and her attempts to regain agency and control by making sense of something that’s seemingly unexplainable.
Recluse is full of truly disturbing visuals that make it seem like Joan is lost in a dream that turns out to be an extended nightmare. It’s a surreal journey reminiscent of invasive psychological horror like Silent Hill, with a touch of Sinister and Hereditary thrown in for good measure. There are so many individual frames that could endlessly fuel urban legends and creepypastas.
It does a great job with how it presents Joan’s fragile state of mind, where chilling flashes of the past sneak up on her and unresolved trauma manifests into unsettling imagery. There are endless shots that are obscured in darkness, or shadow is creeping in from the corners of frames like a suffocating force of nature. It’s very rare that a scene is fully lit. It leads to a very lonely, isolating atmosphere that’s easy to get lost in.
Chaisson’s debut stands out from the many other high-minded haunted house horror films without succumbing to the same pretensions that often drag down these stories. It’s a grief-stricken character study that’s full of upsetting visuals that scratch at something visceral and raw. The horror elements connect, and the answers to its grander mystery provide an appropriate and believable sense of closure. Those who are looking for an atmospheric horror film that isn’t afraid to be different while still channeling something real will appreciate Recluse.
Recluse made its world premiere at Tribeca; release info TBD.
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