'The Harbinger' review: A diabolical pandemic dilemma

The isolation and helplessness that some people felt during the early days of the COVID lockdown is put to good use in 'The Harbinger'. Andy Mitton's second solo feature (after two co-directed with Jesse Holland) is a chilling tale in which vulnerable individuals find themselves plagued by a malevolent spirit that creeps into their dreams, dislodging them from basic reality. .

More bizarre than terrifying, with strong performances and an atmosphere beyond some hazy aspects of the plot, this Fantasia premiere should appeal to more discerning genre fans in XYZ Films' release in limited theaters and on VOD on September 1st. mistaken for another American supernatural drama starring Irene Bedard that goes by the same title, which debuted at Dances With Films in June and opens September 2.)

Ominous and recurring screams from the New York apartment of Mavis (Ellen Davis) have prompted complaints from neighbors, especially a neighboring "Karen" and a belligerent anti-mask ( Stephanie Roth Haberle). When his friendlier building superintendent (Cody Braverman) lets himself in to investigate, he finds the tenant in a state of whimpering hysteria and self-harm — but asleep. After successfully waking her up, he urges Mavis to get help.

With blood relatives apparently not an option, she calls old friend Monique (Gabby Beans), who is surprised but happy to hear from her. There is a prior debt of gratitude that Mo reluctantly heads to town in response, despite the disapproval of brother (Myles Walker) and father (Myles Walker) with whom she has carefully maintained a lockdown 'bubble' without virus in their upstate. house.

Upon arriving in the metropolis, rendered ghostly silent as an epicenter of contagion, she finds Mavis somewhat disheveled but fairly normal-looking, perked up by this reunion. When brought to explain, she admits to having "bad dreams", she says that awakenings and even inflicting pain cannot disturb, a phenomenon that keeps getting worse. It seems like a pretty simple case of cumulative stress. However, when Mo offers to sleep next to her that first night, reassured by the physical presence of another person… she immediately has a very realistic nightmare.

That's enough to prompt a video chat with a would-be demonologist (Laura Heisler) who doesn't appear to be a lunatic or a charlatan. She immediately recognizes the depicted entity (which Mo glimpsed in the film's creepiest visual) as a cruel con artist who plays with a victim's mind until it's "hollowed out", so much so that their very existence eventually fades from other people's memories as well. (Mavis has a picture of an apparent former boyfriend she doesn't remember, who may have been her own domestic partner in that same apartment.) Her prognosis for those already grieving is not encouraging. /p>

With both women now in the same predicament, "The Harbinger" becomes a maze in which dreams deceptively resemble reality, and true reality is increasingly difficult to grasp. The concept may be reminiscent of "A Nightmare on Elm Street", but the execution is closer to something like Mike Flanagan's "Oculus", less reliant on fantastical and gory effects than on slippery, dislocating narrative logic.

Mitton's script could be more complex and punchy in this respect - even if "forgetting" is an important plot element, there's no reason why the main characters' stories can't be further clarified, or that certain transitions seem just as confusing to us as to them. Also, the idea of ​​entire lives being "erased" remains something of an abstraction here. Anthony Hopkins' gradual loss of self to senility in "The Father" made a real-world equivalent scarier than this demonic force. (The director's first feature with Holland, 2010's "Yellowbrickroad," also relied on a threat of disappearance that just wasn't terribly scary.)

Nevertheless, "The Harbinger" only disappoints in that it's good enough to make you wish it was better - that it left an indelible impression rather than a little vague. Atmospherically it does a lot with little, never feeling claustrophobically confined by the very ordinary, if not drab, lockdown interiors. They're occasionally interrupted by snowy exteriors that are no longer welcoming in Ludovica Isidori's adept cinematography. (To better deceive, even those fearsome dreams are confined to those same humble settings.)

Unlike many movies incorporating COVID-enforced conditions, this one transcends the obvious gimmicks to make the pandemic a key, organic element of the plot, with the central ghoul having thrived under such conditions dating back to the era of the medieval plagues. You...