Went Up the Hill: A Ghost Story

When you reach a certain age, nursery rhymes start sounding creepy. Jack and Jill are definitely old enough, so maybe the irony of their names should have been their first warning. He journeyed to New Zealand’s least populous South Island to mourn his long-estranged mother, but maybe she isn’t really gone, at least not completely in Samuel Van Grinsven’s Went Up the Hill, which opens today in theaters.

The late Elizabeth’s grieving wife Jill is surprised to see Jack at her wake, while Jack is surprised that she is surprised, because Jill called him, asking him to come—or so he thought. Nevertheless, Jill immediately agrees he should be there and runs interference with Elizabeth’s inhospitable sister Helen. Jack never really knew the mother who gave him for adoption at a very young age. Yet, he and Jill quickly bond in their radically different forms of grief.

Jack yearns for answers from his mother, which Jill helps facilitate when Elizabeth’s spirit (call it whatever you prefer) takes possession of her body. The supernatural communication works both ways, allowing Jill to talk to Elizabeth when she possesses her son, in turn. The process just requires both son and wife to be asleep, allowing Elizabeth to jump from one body to another. Initially, the ghostly encounters are consoling, but viewers soon start to suspect the deceased profoundly mistreated both Jack and Jill.

Went Up the Hill is an unusually elegant and austere ghost story—so much so, some critics argue it isn’t really horror. Yet, Van Grinsven’s film is far scarier than supposed horror movies like Get Out or Bodies Bodies Bodies. Those films have their merits, but they aren’t really scary. In contrast, there are moments in Hill that will chill you to the bone and make your hair stand on end. In terms of tone and potency, it compares favorably (but does not surpass) Assayas’s Personal Shopper.

If it is a horror film (which it is), it is one that incorporates no special visual effects, at least in the way we generally think of them. Instead, the film is entirely dependent on Vicky Krieps and Dacre Montgomery to portray Elizabeth’s darker persona during times of possession. Together they deliver either two or four remarkably powerful performances, depending on how you count them. Up the Hill is largely a quiet but crackling two-hander. Yet, Sarah Peirse (a Peter Jackson regular) has a devastating scene as “Aunt” Helen that will knock the wind out of most viewers.

Van Grinsven and cinematographer Tyson Perkins masterfully control the eerie atmosphere and carefully compose every shot. This is a beautifully creepy film. It is also rather bold, openly suggesting domestic abuse within a same-sex relationship. The resulting film deserves to be spared flak from either side of the culture wars, because its concerns are supernatural and psychological, rather than polemical. Very highly recommended, Went Up the Hill opens today (8/15) in New York, at the IFC Center.