Talk to Me (2022)

Danny and Michael Philippou | 1hr 35min

The latest party drug to be passed between teenagers in Talk to Me is not a new strain of MDMA, but a pale, embalmed hand. Those who play with its supernatural powers must first open the gateway to the afterlife, before letting its spirits into their minds and bodies with a simple expression of consent – “I let you in.” What happens after that is wildly unpredictable. Perhaps the ghost that takes possession of their host is playful, amusingly forcing them to sing in Spanish, or they could be more nefarious and compel them to perform deeply humiliating acts. Either way, this relinquishing of power to some external force is ecstatic for those who participate, and incredibly entertaining for those spectators who eagerly record everything on their phones.

Brothers Danny and Michael Philippou are confident in their handling of this drug metaphor, made even more impressive by the fact that Talk to Me marks their feature debut as directors, having previously gotten their start making horror comedy videos on YouTube. Perhaps this is why its screenplay and setting feel so true to Australian rave culture, particularly among younger generations willing to risk their lives for a rush of adrenaline and the approval of their peers.

Though some of these actors may not be fully serviced in some underdeveloped character arcs, they each at least get their moment to shine when spirits begin to use their bodies as puppets, like grown versions of Regan from The Exorcist. The cold light that harshly beams down from phone torches at each possessed teenager even bears some resemblance to the frosty air that infiltrates the bedroom in William Friedkin’s seminal horror film, coolly illuminating these figures of corrupted innocence. Under the influence of whatever spirit has taken their autonomy from them, they lick their lips and take nasty swipes at each other, though it is what comes after that may be most of haunting of all.

Much of the tension here hangs on Sophie Wilde’s leading performance as Mia, a young woman reluctantly coming to terms with the demonic forces that she has unleashed on herself and others, yet who also can’t resist digging herself deeper into a pit of anxious delusion. If the embalmed hand is a drug, then she is responsible for the horrific overdose of her friend’s little brother, and she too finds herself in the grip of its addictive pull. Only by continuing to use it can she fix the problems it caused in the first place – at least, that is what she mistakenly believes, even after she is told that its effects will naturally wear away with time.

Through the camera’s shallow focus and tracking shots too, the Philippou brothers ensure that we are stuck in Mia’s uneasy headspace virtually every step of the way, hanging on the back of her neck as she walks through hospitals and hallways. The most significant instance where they land us with a different character though comes in the opening scene, marking the film’s stylistic highpoint as we find ourselves following Cole – another teenager whose fate is bound to the black magic of the embalmed hand. In one long take, he makes his way through a crowded house party to find his injured brother, who gives us our first glimpse of the horrific darkness in store for Mia and her friends.

With such incredibly subjective camerawork, Talk to Me often feels as if it is transcending the perspective of its human characters to instead peer through the eyes of a disembodied ghost. When spirits enter the bodies of teenagers, the camera violently tosses backwards with their heads, and there is also a formal poetry to the pair of overhead shots tying the end of Mia’s character arc right back to the start. The narrative may lose some steam in the final act when its starts relying on coincidence and leaves subplots hanging, but the Philippou brothers still keep the surprises rolling in right up until the end, paying off on their camera’s ghostly perspective. Willingly letting unpredictable forces take over one’s mind and body is evidently a dangerous game in Talk to Me, only leaving hope for those with enough self-control to tear themselves away from this supernatural intoxication.

Talk to Me is currently playing in theatres.