Bring Her Back
Sally Hawkins as Laura in Bring Her Back
If Talk To Me felt like a punch to the gut, Bring Her Back is the slow, soul-curdling scream that follows.
Danny and Michael Philippou have returned with something darker, nastier, and far more psychologically punishing. Bring Her Back is framed around a grieving brother and sister, Andy and Piper, navigating both the trauma of their past and the horrors of their new home. As the film unfurls, so does the ritualistic, cult-like horror, slow and sickening in its inevitability.
A Foster Home from Hell: Sally Hawkins’ Unhinged Brilliance
Sally Hawkins, known for her tender roles, obliterates expectations as Laura, a foster mother whose kindness curdles into something deeply sinister. Every smile feels like a threat, every gesture laced with manipulation. Hawkins’ performance is a masterclass in slow-burning dread, making Laura one of the most unsettling horror antagonists in recent memory.
The film’s exploration of neglect and gaslighting is relentless, twisting familial bonds into something monstrous. Andy (Billy Barratt) and Piper (Sora Wong) are trapped in a waking nightmare, their grief weaponised against them. The Philippous don’t just scare you, they make you feel the suffocating weight of trauma, crafting horror that’s as psychological as it is physical.
Grief, Gore, and Gruesome Rituals
Bring Her Back doesn’t shy away from brutality. The gore is stomach-churning, made even more impactful by jaw-dropping practical effects.
But the horror isn’t just in the bloodshed. The film’s supernatural elements are drip-fed with precision, weaving a cult-like mysticism that escalates into a devastating crescendo. There’s an aching, constant pulse of grief in this film that refuses to let up. The trauma isn't just a plot device, it's baked into every interaction, every strained conversation, every flicker of hope that’s quietly snuffed out.
This is where the film shines: this isn’t just shock value, it’s horror with purpose, dissecting grief in ways that feel emotionally punishing, leaving you drowning in sorrow and grief.
Sally Hawkins as Laura & Jonah Wren Phillips as Oliver in Bring Her Back
A Lingering Shadow: The Aftermath of Trauma
Walking out of Bring Her Back, you won’t just feel rattled, you’ll feel hollowed out. The Philippous have crafted a story that claws at the deepest wounds of loss, forcing audiences to sit with the aftermath. Unlike cheap jump scares, this film burrows under your skin, making its terror personal.
There’s a creeping dread to the way the film reveals its mythos. Unlike Talk To Me, where the supernatural element was front and centre early on, Bring Her Back is more patient, almost cruelly so. Hints of cult rituals and ancient rites are drip-fed through glimpses of grainy VHS footage. It’s beautifully constructed. By the time you realise what’s happening, it’s too late.
And that’s exactly what the Philippous do best: they trap you in a world where logic dissolves, grief distorts reality, and the boundaries between the physical and spiritual collapse entirely.
The world-building leaves room for sequels or prequels, but even as a standalone, Bring Her Back is a staggering achievement. It doesn’t just follow Talk To Me, it surpasses it. This isn’t just horror, it’s a visceral, grief-stricken nightmare that lingers long after the credits roll. With Sally Hawkins delivering a performance so chilling it’ll haunt your dreams, and practical effects so grotesque you’ll squirm in your seat, Bring Her Back cements the Philippous as masters of emotional devastation wrapped in blood-soaked terror.
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