'Undertone' Finds The Right Sound
Most horror films provide jump scares or gore. Some try to avoid those common cliches by inserting moody lighting and sounds. Neither works that well on most occasions. Yet once in a while, you get that film that aims for what most “soft” horror films aim for and pulls off the task. Undertone is an incredibly successful exercise in minimalism that delivers on its premise. Its lack of locations, people, and big special effects works amazingly to its advantage, thanks to a tight script. For its incredibly short length, the movie does a marvelous job building to its final suspense, leaving many in the sound department from other movies feeling jealous.
The story takes place in one location. It’s what people call in the industry a “bottle film.” Think of movies like Phone Booth or 12 Angry Men as examples. The tension stems from the fact that you just want to get out of the location where the film is taking place. But you can’t either because of a trial, a hostile sniper, or, in this case, an ailing mother. Evy (Nina Kiri) is caring for her mom (Michèle Duquet), who’s dying of what’s likely cancer. Mama can’t move or speak. All she can do is breathe. Evy admits early on the phone with her friend Justin (Adam DiMarco) that at this point, she’s just waiting for her mother to die already. Not out of cruelty, but compassion. Or is it?
While stuck in her house and constantly surrounded by death, Evy hosts a hit paranormal podcast. At least the movie's description indicates that the show is popular. Nothing in the flick itself indicates how many people listen to the show, aside from a quick cut to the listenership on Evy’s laptop. Probably the last thing Evy should be doing is a show on ghosts within an isolated house with her mother, who surely won’t get possessed at some point. One day, Evy gets a string of mysterious recordings that she plays on the pod with her co-host, Justin, who lives somewhere remote from Evy.
Each recording becomes increasingly alarming. At first, they seem inconsequential, yet the white noise inside each recording reveals something sinister. Old lullabies like London Bridge or Ring around the Rosey contain hidden meanings relating to child abduction and murder. Remember Rock-a-Bye Baby? That song is about an infant that falls to its death. As these secrets are uncovered, the picture becomes increasingly disturbing. The recordings get louder, the victim’s pleas more horrific, yet Evy dismisses the recordings with plausible explanations despite Justin’s begging for her to stop playing them. Evy isn’t necessarily a dumb protagonist for not listening to Justin, just a practical one. Does she really believe in hauntings, or is she a performer like the Ghost Adventures guy is? The movie never makes it clear what her true beliefs are, but we know Evy's fear is real.
The more that Evy can’t rationally explain what she’s listening to, the more spooked she gets. If not for Nina Kiri's solid performance, the movie could have sunk. This film is all hers. We never see anyone's face other than Evy’s vegetable mother, further isolating the audience from any external human connection. Nina must act a lot with her face, yet not overact. It’s a lot of listening and reacting, which Nina does spectacularly. At first, her performance just seems okay, yet as the terror begins to seep in, she executes trauma effortlessly. She doesn’t scream or quiver too much. Kiri acts through subtlety that culminates in a final explosive reaction.
The real star of the show, however, isn’t Nina Kiri but rather the soundscape of the picture. Since this movie is about a podcast, sound is essential. The Foley effects implemented in the film are petrifying. If you’re sensitive to jump scares, then you’ll likely be spending a majority of the film plugging your ears. The soundtrack often ramps up to a climax, making us anticipate the pop-up that rarely comes. There are only two jump scares in the movie. The majority of the film is a buildup of terror.
There’s no music in the movie. Thank God. We need more horror films without loud music breaking the tension. It’s silence, not a bombardment of sounds that breeds terror. What you don’t see is usually more scary than what you do. Kind of like how everyone thinks The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is a bloodbath, yet there’s hardly a drop of DNA in the film. It’s the atmosphere that it builds that puts the gore in our heads. Undertone is a similar instance where its soundtrack and long cuts to black generate more fear than any horror film I’ve seen this year.
