Reviews
“AHS: Delicate” Review – Episode 3 Recycles Old Themes and Shows Signs of Storytelling Fatigue
American Horror Story: Delicate has been off to a strong start with its unique season. After an encouraging pair of introductory episodes, “When the Bough Breaks” proves to be the season’s slowest, most atmospheric, and least substantial entry. American Horror Story at least understands that Jennifer Lynch is the right person to get behind the camera for an episode that’s sparse in dialogue, but dense in cryptic sequences where characters explore caverns and haunted spaces that shouldn’t exist. If nothing else, this energy really keeps the audience on their toes over what’s actually happening and what might just be some figment of Anna’s feverish fugue state. The viewer is just as foggy and disassociated as Anna. Just like how Anna’s face blemish/likely-spider-nest continues to grow, American Horror Story: Delicate further develops its story. Anna’s worsening facial imperfection reflects the slow burn surface level nature of “When the Bough Breaks.” It’s just a bad reaction, fighting to break out from makeup, as it festers over time.
Anna has spent much of American Horror Story: Delicate in doubt and “When the Bough Breaks” is when she finally reclaims her narrative. She’s told early on in this episode that “nobody is comfortable with anything…we’re all just learning on the job.” This turns into a mantra that carries through the episode as Anna searches for an ally. Anna just wants confirmation that she’s not imagining all of this or alone on this journey, which she eventually gets by the episode’s end. The biggest fault of “When the Bough Breaks” is that it positions Dex as Anna’s biggest suspect, which feels like a long overdue and insultingly obvious complication for Anna to reach. In this respect, AHS: Delicate feels like it’s just doing its due diligence as it checks each hypothetical suspect off of Anna’s hit list (enter Pose’s MJ Rodriguez as the “house manager,” who contributes nothing other than functioning as another possible acolyte). Most of Anna’s woes and this episode’s obstacles stem from suspicions over Dex, even if these presumptions are misguided.
Anna’s fears and accompanying memory loss collide with troubling dreams and hallucinations. Anna’s subconscious and reality get bombarded as she experiences plenty of on-the-nose baby-based nightmares and even more cliché haunting set pieces where witchy figures creepily chant infantile nursery rhymes. It’s all very obvious and only further underlines the first two episodes’ points–which were already well made–instead of presenting its own ideas. American Horror Story has a history for some stunning practical and prosthetic effects work, but “When the Bough Breaks” includes some of the worst CG that’s even been featured in the series. It doesn’t help an episode that’s already largely style over substance.
Anna’s paranoia is at an all-time high in “When the Bough Breaks,” but she’s also more resolved than ever to get back in the saddle and make sure that she does have this baby. If not for herself, then to spite whatever darker forces are working against her here. Speaking of darker forces, AHS: Delicate plays it fast and loose in this department in a way that requires a lot of suspension of disbelief. I praised the previous entry for its heightened camp, some of which was guilty of the same oversights. However, “When the Bough Breaks” isn’t as nearly as successful. There are random elements like how Siobhan’s caller tone is “Rockabye Baby” that are just creepy touches with baby veneers that are present, but without any real explanation. They’re unearned eerieness.
The same is true when it comes to the arbitrary doll effigy that Anna finds on the beach. Why is it there? These aren’t questions that American Horror Story: Delicate sincerely wants its audience to ask, but it’s still an empty way to tell this story even if the gimp-core death bunnies are a very American Horror Story-esque sight. They’re clearly designed to be this season’s big Rubber Man sexy/supernatural spectacle.
All of this feeds into a sense of magical realism that increasingly takes over the episode. It’s most prominent with the Alice in Wonderland-like tiny door shenanigans. This is perhaps the episode’s most effective material and there’s a real sense of awe and wonder to Anna’s strange journey. That being said, it’s still no Channel Zero: Dream Door and far from the best execution of this door-that’s-there-but-shouldn’t-be concept. There’s also a lot of success in Anna’s covert communication through calendar notes. It’s such an effective, unique device that does a lot with a little. Similarly, on several occasions Lynch captures the scene’s tension in the most effective ways possible, like through a car’s sideview mirror. Despite these fun flourishes, there’s not enough to latch onto in “When the Bough Breaks” that hasn’t already been covered.
Magical realism and palpable paranoia aside, the big twist that “When the Bough Breaks” builds towards–while effective–is a foregone conclusion for most horror fans. Anna feels a kick and her non-baby is somehow still on the way. Not only that, but there are even bigger revelations in store regarding Anna’s offspring that the audience should already expect to hear. This wouldn’t be a deal breaker in a standard season of American Horror Story, but with only two more entries in AHS: Delicate’s “Part One,” time shouldn’t be wasted on a reductive tone poem that muddles its point. There’s absolutely no reason why the events of this episode couldn’t have been fit into last week’s installment instead of drawing them out in this manner.
News of a baby–human or otherwise–results in blind optimism that drives Anna through the episode’s final act. Any preexisting distrust and doubt that Anna previously had gets eradicated by prenatal bliss and excitement. It’s a promising direction for the next two episodes even if “Part One’s” conclusion seems destined to feature Anna’s reunion with her stolen child. We’ll see where these familiar ideas go since there’s still the possibility that it births something unique and brilliant out of these overdone ideas. It’s not unlike how Anna’s bloody and bemused smile still shines through a mouth full of stained teeth. All that American Horror Story: Delicate can do is wash away the blood, rinse, and repeat.
Reviews
‘The King Tide’: An Island Town Rots with Moral Decay in Canadian Folk Horror Fable [Review]
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.
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.
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.
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.
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